Just as Miranda had predicted, only a few scattered squads of Cerberus troopers had barred their way through the sublevel of the facility, making for a fairly easier pathway to cut through to the more imperative parts of Cronos Station. Having finished off the last of the attacking troopers, Miranda was quick to scale the ladder leading back up to the main parts of the facility, with Thane following closely behind her and Shepard taking up the rear, needing only a short hand up from Thane when she reached the top. Making her way to the orange-locked door at the far end of the room they now found themselves in, Miranda pulled up the override control, starting to type a command into the console, but Shepard found herself distracted by a computer console sitting in a far corner of the room, and turned to inspect it instead, curiously. Its screen was set to standby mode, showing some sort of blue productivity graph, the progress beacon bouncing slowly up and down as the hills of data rose and fell gently across the grid. Tapping a key on the projected keypad, Shepard woke the console up, her brow furrowing faintly in interest as it gave a soft beep before pulling up a locked list of datalogs in a textbox along the right-hand side of the screen.

"That console hasn't been scrubbed," Miranda warned, pausing in her override to glance over her shoulder towards where Shepard was standing. "There may still be sensitive information on there."

"What kind of sensitive information?" Shepard asked, tapping a button on the keypad and pulling up the first file in the list of discreetly numeralled dossiers.

"Having to do with Project Lazarus, if I'm not mistaken," Miranda answered, moving to stand behind her, her free hand clenching and unclenching anxiously at her side as she watched Shepard override the access into the datafile. "Regarding your Cerberus reconstruction."

Her interest now piqued, Shepard finished her override command, taking a step back from the console and watching as the datalog considered her access request. Then, after a moment, the first file in the list of logs expanded onto the screen, showing a grainy security vid of what looked to be a scientist speaking with a projection of the Illusive Man. The setting was unidentifiable, the camera angle showing only the cabinet-lined corner of what appeared to be a sheer white room, but the voices came through sharp and clear despite the mediocre quality of the vid. "It can't be done," the scientist insisted. "It's not a matter of resources—"

"It's always a matter of resources," the Illusive Man argued, cutting him off. "We're not losing Shepard."

The scientist sighed, exasperated, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, as if simply talking to the Illusive Man made him too nervous to even stand still. "Sir, Shepard is clinically braindead," he asserted, starting to wring his hands, anxiously. "After that much trauma, that long with no oxygen… we cannot overcome nature."

"Operative Lawson disagrees," the Illusive Man countered, flicking ashes from the end of his cigarette, and Shepard turned to glance over towards Miranda, who was standing oddly pigeontoed, her clenched fist pressed into the side of her leg, her mouth drawn into a tight, twisted line. "She is now in charge of Project Lazarus." Then, with these fateful words, the vidfile ended, collapsing back into the list of dossier files lining the side of the console screen. Turning her attention to the computer again, Shepard frowned, staring at the list of datafiles, before shaking her head and letting out a deep huff of breath, taken aback by the implication.

"I didn't realize it was that bad," she admitted, her voice betraying a bit of hoarseness despite her best attempts to hold her composure.

"It seems very stark," Thane agreed, offering a solemn nod. "Are you all right, Shepard?"

Shepard hesitated at his question, wondering how to possibly answer, before taking a determined step back from the console, wanting to walk away from the files but not quite having the strength to do so. "I'm still me," she insisted, firmly, though she could not help feeling unsure who she was more trying to convince of this fact. "I doubt I'd have been able to turn against Cerberus otherwise. I don't remember anything… maybe they really just fixed me. Or… maybe…" She trailed off, coming to an uncomfortable standstill, her hands hanging awkwardly at her sides as her gaze drifted down to the floor, uncertain whether her self-congratulatory reasoning was doing more harm or good. "Maybe I'm just a high-tech VI that thinks it's Commander Shepard," she added, barely loud enough for her crewmates to hear her. "But, I dunno… I…"

"You're real," Miranda assured her, determinedly. "A bit off rails, perhaps, at times… but ultimately, real."

Shepard faltered at her reassurance, wanting to believe what she was saying but finding it hard to convince herself to listen. Then, moving back over to the computer again, she pressed the downward arrow on the keypad, selecting the next file in the list and watching as it expanded to take up the entirety of the screen. The setting in this vid was exactly the same as in the last, and for a moment Shepard wondered if she might have accidentally selected the same video twice, until the scientist began to speak, assuring her that some time had passed between the last security vid and this one. "Tissue regeneration is proceeding," the scientist reported, optimistically. "The helmet kept the brain intact, for… whatever good that will do."

"Lawson will find a way," the Illusive Man assured him, tucking his free hand behind his back and offering a promising nod.

"Sir… Shepard is an Alliance soldier," the scientist pointed out, sounding a bit less confident than before. "As far as she knows, we're a terrorist organization."

"I'm not looking for a dance partner," the Illusive Man snapped, pointing his cigarette threateningly at the scientist's face. "We need Shepard, and Shepard needs resources. She'll work with us." And with that, the vidfile ended as abruptly as the last, collapsing back into the list of logs, leaving Shepard feeling confused and unfulfilled.

"He had you boxed in, Shepard," Thane observed, frankly, causing her to glance back towards him, still a bit numb. "There was nothing you could do."

"Every instinct I had told me not to trust Cerberus," Shepard returned, her voice barely above a resentful hiss. "But I needed their help, so I played along."

"You did what you had to, Shepard," Miranda assured her, causing Shepard to look her way, grateful for the vote of confidence. "I was there with you. I saw what you did. Everything you did, you did it for the good of your crew, and the good of the galaxy. Cerberus had nothing to do with it."

Shepard opened her mouth, preparing to say something in return, before quickly closing it again, unable to think of anything to add to the conversation. Turning back to the console again, she selected the last log in the list of files, taking a wary step back as the security vid expanded to take up the entirety of the screen. The scene in this vid was almost the same as in the last two files, with only one significant difference – instead of one scientist talking to the Illusive Man, there were now two. The second scientist in the vid appeared to be female, full-figured, with short, strawberry-blonde hair Shepard strongly suspected was a wig, wearing a pair of pristine white coveralls branded with the Cerberus logo. She had apparently just come back from the laboratory, as she still wore her protective medical gloves, barely visible through the grainy quality of the video footage. "Project Lazarus is reporting neurological activity," the first scientist informed the Illusive Man, sounding genuinely surprised by this information. "But only barely. Either way, they're requesting more funding. They say they likely can't go forward any further with the rebuild unless they get the go-ahead to employ… precarious methods."

"Granted," the Illusive Man answered, immediately. "Give them everything they ask for. No expense is too great. I want Commander Shepard back exactly the way she was before, even if that means using Reapertech to do it."

"But sir," the second scientist spoke up then, taking a worried step forward. "You remember what happened with Paul Grayson when we tried to use Reaper technology—"

"Grayson was a mistake," the Illusive Man cut her off, sharply, flicking ashes from the end of his cigarette. "A failed experiment brought on by negligence and naivety. We attempted to genetically alter a preexisting lifeform, and the body resisted." Taking a drag of his cigarette, he held the smoke, wetting his lips, before finally letting the smoke out again in a long, bored sigh. "His physical enhancements were extremely impressive, while they lasted," he added, matter-of-factly. "If we could do the same for Shepard, imagine how much good it could do us. Not to mention what it could do for her."

"Maybe," the second scientist told him, taking another step forward, sounding exasperated. "If we could avoid having entire neurological pathways rewritten in the process. Grayson's brain was a mess, sir. He was completely under Reaper control by the end. Do you really want that to happen to Shepard?"

"Grayson's failure was due to a lack of resolve," the Illusive Man stated, offering her an offhanded sniff as he tapped his thumb distractedly against the butt of his cigarette. "He wasn't loyal to anything but his next dose of red sand. He had no will to adapt." Taking another drag of his cigarette, he turned his gaze towards the floor instead, inspecting his polished shoes, as if they had suddenly become much more interesting than her concerns. "Shepard is different," he told her, unconcerned, exhaling smoke in a thin, indifferent stream. "We're building her from the ground up. That's the beauty of it. Her body will never even know that it didn't include Reapertech to begin with." Turning his attention back to the first scientist, the Illusive Man pulled his hand in towards his chest, his cigarette bouncing thoughtfully between his fingers as he considered what instructions to give. "Get me our potential recruits file," he told the man, musingly. "Shepard will be up before too long. We still need a crew."

"Our existing forces should be more than sufficient—" the second scientist started to contest, but the Illusive Man quickly cut her off again, holding up a hand, causing her to stop short.

"No," he told her, turning his cybernetic gaze towards her, decisively. "We need sympathetic faces. I need Shepard invested." Then, turning his attention back to the first scientist again, he indicated towards him with his cigarette. "Tap Kelly Chambers, and recruit Donnolley," he instructed, watching as the man nodded along, obedient. "I imagine Miss Daniels will follow. We want some old friends as well. Contact Doctor Chakwas and send me the psych profile on Shepard's pilot, along with a bottle of 47-Thessia Red." And with that, the video cut off, the grainy footage fizzling out to a blank, black screen before collapsing once more into the list of files lined up along the side of the screen. Shepard could only stare in dazed revulsion at the screen as it finished, every outside sound and sensation replaced by the shrill shriek of a tinny whistling sound inside her head, like the sound of a heart monitor flatline pitched up impossibly high. Her every natural instinct was telling her to panic, but her body refused to cooperate, refused to move, or even barely to breathe. Every emotion she could think of was welling up inside her, clashing inside her head, the confused pandemonium of sensations making her feel sick to her stomach.

"Reapertech," she murmured, her lips numb, feeling as if someone else were speaking the word, and she were only watching from a distance. "They used Reapertech… in my rebuild." Turning to look over at Miranda, she stared at her, horrified, barely even seeming to notice her mouth hanging open as she took soft, ragged breaths in, her eyes starting to sting with moisture, though she could not feel herself starting to cry. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her hoarse voice cracking. "Miranda… why…?"

"I didn't know," Miranda told her, her eyes still glued to the console screen, wetting her lips as she shook her head, her own voice starting to tremble. "Shepard. I swear, I didn't know."

"Miranda…" Shepard started to say, but did not even have time to finish before Miranda quickly whirled on her, her eyes flashing.

"I didn't know!" Miranda insisted, louder this time, a note of desperation creeping into her tone. She breathed heavily, her thin fists clenched desperately at her sides, her pristine hair dishevelled as she gritted her teeth, trying hard to hold back a well of angry, guilty tears. "I had no idea, Shepard," she told her, her voice shaking violently, begging to be believed. "I thought the Illusive Man wanted you brought back exactly the way you'd been before. Exactly the same, Shepard. He wouldn't let me implant you with a control chip, I thought… I thought because he wanted you to have your own free will. That was what he told me…" She stopped, her gaze slowly drifting to the floor, a single tear clinging to her dark lower lashes as she thought back, seeming to realize something for the first time. "And I was stupid enough to believe him," she added, quieter, her voice trembling as she unclenched her fists, running her hands back through her hair in sickened disbelief. "He didn't want me not to implant you so you'd be just the way you were before. He didn't want me to implant you because he didn't want the chip messing with your Reapertech implants. It all makes perfect sense now. It…"

Letting out a deep, shuddering breath, Miranda wet her lips, stunned, her hands still frozen on her head, forgotten. "What have I done, Shepard?" she whispered, horrified, looking up at Shepard again as the single tear skated down her pale cheek. "I thought I was helping… I thought…" Letting her hands fall back to her sides, she looked away from Shepard again, her expression numb, speechless, shaking her head. "I thought I was helping," she insisted again, quietly, to herself. "What have I done?"

"Having Reapertech be part of Shepard's rebuild certainly does explain a few things," Thane commented, taking a step forward, hoping to be the voice of optimistic reason. "Her resilience is second to none. She's much stronger than any human I know. It could help explain how she managed to survive the suicide mission through the Omega-4 Relay, when all projected outcomes pointed to inevitable failure."

"It also explains a few other things," Miranda added, quietly, still staring at the floor. By now she had crossed her arms over her ribcage, each hand cupping the opposite elbow as she stared blankly at a spot near their feet, and, after a moment, she looked up again, her expression still troubled, but now oddly stern, as if she had just remembered something important. "You remember how my father's research determined that Reapertech nanites use natural adrenaline or its counterspecies equivalents to incite mutations?" she asked, solemnly. "How the Reapers would use Dragon's Teeth to shock the body into releasing adrenaline, and the Husk-specific nanites would latch onto the body's release of the adrenaline compound to cause the mutation that turns living subjects into Husks?"

Shepard frowned, confused by the seemingly random reminder, her mind still spinning from the shock of before as she tried to figure out what Miranda was talking about. "I don't see how that's relevant," she admitted. "Unless you're trying to say I'm some kind of super-Husk."

At this, Miranda scoffed, waving her hand a few times in front of her to dismiss Shepard's ridiculous guess. "No, Shepard," she told her, her tone curt, as if she were scolding a child having difficulty with a math problem. "You don't understand what I'm trying to tell you." Reaching up towards the console screen, she tapped the list of files sharply, frustrated, before turning her attention back towards Shepard and Thane, her brows furrowed, eyes intent. "We all know Reapertech uses adrenaline to cause sporadic genetic alterations," she told them, speaking frankly, trying to be as clear as possible. "And since Shepard's body has genetically integrated Reapertech nanites, clearly that's exactly what happened. That's what caused her to get pregnant. Shepard got excited during sex, and the Reapertech in her body used the release of adrenaline as a jumping-off point to cause an unnatural mutation." Dropping her hand from the screen again, she crossed her arms, shrugging, curtly. "It's just like what happened with Grayson," she added. "Except instead of using several moderate bursts of adrenaline to cause an ongoing mutation, it used one large burst to cause a standalone mutation. It all makes perfect sense now."

"Maybe to you," Shepard countered, frowning, trying hard to keep a hot red blush from rising to her face and ears at the blunt mention of her sexual enthusiasm. "None of that made any sense to me."

"Shepard, it's so simple," Miranda sighed, dropping her arms to her sides again as she turned to face Shepard, exasperated. "There were no Husk-specific nanites present in your body at the time, but the general principle is still the same. The combination of two unlike genetically-oriented materials – the Husk-specific nanites and the body's deoxyribonucleic acid in Husks, or in your case, a dextro-ameno sperm and a levo-ameno egg – forced together in one organic body by a rapid genetic mutation brought on by the Reapertech's exploitation of the release of natural adrenaline. Except instead of the reaction overriding your nervous system and causing you to break out in pseudosynthetic tumorous melanomic growths, it caused a limited fusing reaction, and you wound up gestating a cross-amino organic lifeform." Tapping her omni-tool sensor against her leg to wake it up, she turned her attention back towards the console again, beginning to type something into the keypad and pulling up a list of logs much longer than the one Shepard had been drawing from before. Then, passing her omni-tool scanner over the keys, she began to copy the files into its memory, watching as the progress bar on the screen flashed and began to fill up with solid colour.

"That's how you ended up pregnant with a human-turian baby," she added, matter-of-factly, her gaze fixed on the computer screen. "Similar to how the Reapers use Reapertech to fuse turian and krogan cross-amino DNA together to form a Brute. Except you're growing your cross-amino lifeform organically, rather than fusing it together surgically and using Reapertech to keep it alive despite the genetic differentiation." Finished copying the files to her omni-tool's memory, she retrieved her hand again, turning away from the computer once more and propping a thoughtful hand on her hip. "It's very much like the difference between Grayson's Reapertech implantation and yours," she explained, her fingers playing distractedly with the butt of the gun tucked into her belt. "Brutes eventually fall apart because their DNA is forced together while they're still alive, after their immune systems have had a chance to develop, but your baby's genetic coding doesn't know it's not supposed to be that way to begin with. It's the same general concept, Shepard. It makes perfect sense."

"Brutes," Shepard repeated, the word numb on her lips as she turned her attention back to the frozen vidscreen, watching the full progress bar flashing, trying hard not to feel sick at the comparison. "Right."

Just then, Shepard's in-ear comm crackled, causing her to break her gaze away from the computer console as the radio frequency tuned in on Hackett's voice over the receiver. "Incursion team, what's your status?" Hackett asked, his voice stern and to the point, pulling her sharply back to earth. Shepard faltered, opening her mouth to speak, suspended in hazy, wordless animation for a moment, before finally closing her mouth again and clearing her throat, steeling herself against her scattered emotions, returning her full attention to the mission at hand. Pressing her fingers to her in-ear comm, she turned away from the console, making her way towards the green-lit door Miranda had overridden earlier.

"We're inside the base," she confirmed. "Heading towards the main control."

"Good work," Hackett commended, shortly. "Do you need support?"

"Negative," Shepard returned, passing through the door into the hallway beyond, barely even checking to make sure her team was following behind. "Keep the heat on Cerberus. We'll find what we need." Then, dropping her hand from her comm again, she severed the radio connection, taking a few more determined, jogging steps forward towards the treacherous path ahead, before she suddenly started to slow, her footsteps becoming uncertain, halting, as if her mind wanted her to push ahead but her feet refused to cooperate. Coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway, she wavered, swaying faintly forward once, as if trying to convince herself to keep moving but her feet had rooted themselves securely in place, refusing to go any further. Finally giving up trying to move onward, she simply stood fixed in place, her feet spread awkwardly wide as she stared vacantly at a spot on the floor, like a mech that had spontaneously powered down mid-command. Her mind was a fuzzy blank, her entire face still numb, wondering if she had actually just had a conversation with Hackett or if the entire thing had been part of some sort of strange, realistic dream sequence. She felt as if she were outside her body, disconnected, like someone on the outside of an icy window looking in.

Holding up her hands, Shepard stared down at them for a long moment, turning them over dazedly, barely recognizing them despite them being the same hands she had known for thirty-odd years. Miranda slowed as she came up behind her, a faint, worried frown crossing her pretty features, before Shepard finally turned back to look at her, her expression blank. "Am I really Commander Shepard?" she asked, her voice hoarse, as if she barely realized she was even speaking. "I was so sure that I was, that everything was the way it had been before… like dying was just some crazy dream, but…" Stopping again, she frowned, her gaze drifting slowly from Miranda's face towards the wall of the hallway, growing distant. "I don't know," she admitted, quietly, shaking her head slowly. "I can't… I can't explain it. I feel like me. Or, I felt like me. I… I was so sure I felt like me, that I was the only one who could be me, who could feel this way, like me, but now…" Turning her attention down towards her hands again, she stared at them, as if observing a strange alien lifeform for the first time. "I'm not so sure anymore," she said, barely loud enough for Miranda to hear. "I'm just… not sure."

"Shepard…" Miranda sighed, passing a tired hand back through her hair. "Shepard, I don't know how else to explain it. I brought you back to be you. You're you. I made absolute sure of that."

"Am I really me, though, Miranda?" Shepard asked, worriedly, turning to face her now, her expression needing. "Or am I just me as you could manage to bring me back? Different, a customized premade vessel, just… with the pretence of being Commander Shepard?" Letting out a frantic huff of breath then, she indicated down towards her body, as if pointing out something frighteningly unfamiliar. "And… am I really pregnant?" she asked, her voice growing more desperate. "Is that real? You said yourself the only reason this zygotic reaction started was because of a mutation brought on by Reapertech. The same mutation that causes people to turn into Husks. What does that mean for me, for my baby, for this entire…? Is this thing growing inside me a baby, a real baby, or is it something else, something…?" She stopped, the horrific, panicked thought causing a firm, dry knot to tie itself in her chest, cutting off her air, making it hard to even breathe, let alone finish speaking. "What am I, Miranda?" she finally asked, her voice quiet, wavering in and out as it shook with honest, unmasked fear. "If I were me, I wouldn't have been able to get pregnant like this. I'm not me. I'm not even sure what I am anymore. I'm… something else. Something that this kind of thing can happen to. And that thought scares me more than I can…"

Trailing off again, Shepard shook her head, more firmly this time, before turning her gaze quickly downward towards her armoured stomach, her hands hovering, anxiously, a few inches away, as if afraid to even touch it anymore. "What if I'm doing the wrong thing?" she asked, barely loud enough for Miranda to hear. "What if I'm not supposed to have this baby? What if I'm making a huge mistake? This baby was never meant to be. It would never have existed without Reapertech. If I were the real Commander Shepard—"

"Stop," Miranda insisted, sharply, holding up a firm hand to cut her off short. "Stop right there. You are Commander Shepard. Reapertech or no Reapertech, you're still the same person you've always been, and as long as you know who you really are, nothing can take that away from you." Letting her hand fall back to her side, she propped it thoughtfully against her hip, her expression firm as Shepard looked up at her again, the fear still evident in her eyes even as she listened, needing the reassurance. "You're not a science experiment, Shepard," Miranda told her, speaking more gently this time. "You're a person. A real, live person. Your feelings, your experiences… they aren't any less valid because they wouldn't have been possible had we not brought you back from the dead. Even if the Illusive Man did use Reapertech, you're you enough to recognize that you don't want that. That Reapertech isn't who you are. And that's proof enough for me." Holding out her hands then, she indicated towards Shepard again, helpfully. "As for your baby, perhaps you're right," she added, openly. "Perhaps it never would have existed without Reapertech. But it exists now, and it's a part of you. Whatever its original creation may have entailed, what happens to it now is in your hands. You were made with Reapertech, but you're still you. What makes your baby any different?"

Shepard faltered, her hands clenching into weak, subconscious fists a few inches from her sides, her mouth drawing into a thin, uncertain line. Then, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, she turned away from Miranda again, drawing her gun from its maglock and holding it at the ready. "Let's just go," she said, quietly. "I don't want to think about it. Let's just get this over with. With any luck we'll never have to see this place ever again."

The door to the central heart of the station lay at the end of a dimly-lit rampway, with only three wan floodlights illuminating the path to ensure wayward visitors did not lose their way in the dark. The floor of the walkway was checkered with weathered metal plates, the sides lined with only a row of short spikes, leaving almost nothing standing between the precarious footpath and the open, bottomless pit below. The ground team's footfalls echoed eerily down the chasm as they made their way towards the top of the ramp, until they finally reached a short, dark hallway, walled in so tightly on either side that two of them could not have fit into it at one time standing shoulder-to-shoulder. The door at the end of the hall had been left suspiciously unlocked, its holo-lock glowing bright green as it waited for their arrival, and, Shepard slowed to a wary stop as she approached it, taking a few steps back for good measure, not wanting to activate the weight sensor just yet.

"This is it," she warned her team, looking back towards them, making sure they were ready to proceed. "Stay sharp, everyone." Then, facing forward again, she stepped cautiously onto the weight sensor, gripping her weapon at the ready as the door to the central chamber slid sharply open, allowing them inside. Waving silently for Miranda and Thane to follow her, Shepard moved inside the room, making a quick visual sweep of the room to make sure they were not walking blindly into an ambush, but then, seeing nothing but empty space, she allowed herself to relax a bit, lowering her weapon to her side. The room they found themselves in was immense, much larger than she had imagined it to be, with pristine plexiglass flooring and ceiling tiles encompassing the entire length of the room, tempered to look like black marbled glass. An enormous panoramic window stretched the length of the far back wall, tinted against the piercing glare of the kaleidoscopic dying star it looked out on to allow them to watch its writhing, fiery surface without having to shade their eyes. A solitary research station sat in the middle of the otherwise empty floor, a single, streamlined swivel-chair rooted in place in front of a massive holographic screen. Coming to stand directly behind the chair, Shepard paused, looking down, and could not help but give a soft huff of recognition at the sight of the broad, black circular vidcomm projection pad beneath her feet.

It was an unpleasant feeling, the sense of morbid familiarity about the whole setup, and Shepard quickly moved on from the pad, not wanting to spend too much time in one place for fear of more memories returning. "We need to locate the Prothean VI," she reminded her team, stashing her gun in her maglock as she settled down into the Illusive Man's chair, starting to pull up the override command. It was not an uncomfortable chair, despite its rigid, minimalist shape, but the thought that she was sitting where the Illusive Man had sat made her antsy, and she could not help glancing over her shoulder as she began to type, making sure he was not there watching her. Finishing her initial override, Shepard sat back in the chair, watching the screen, waiting for it to respond. Then, after a moment of consideration, the console beeped sharply, showing a fast scroll of encrypted coding, before pulling up a second, entirely separate override control, which Miranda quickly set to work on cracking.

"Shepard," the Illusive Man's digitized voice cut sharply through the tense near-silence, causing Shepard to jump nearly out of her skin. "You're in my chair."

Shepard turned sharply at the sound of his voice, whipping around to face the projection standing on the holopad. The Illusive Man watched her from the pad with callous, unamused eyes, his mouth drawn taut, his ever-present cigarette idling between his fingers as he tucked his other hand behind his back, fist clenched. Taking a few determined steps forward, Shepard jabbed an accusatory finger towards the chair, before pointing it in his direction instead. "This chair's about the only damn thing you have left," she told him, her voice a low, hateful growl. "Cerberus is finished."

"On the contrary," the Illusive Man countered, suddenly smug. "We have achieved everything I ever imagined." Pausing, he considered this statement, his cigarette bouncing distractedly between his fingers, before adding, thoughtfully, "Almost everything."

"Yeah?" Shepard insisted, her frown deepening as she gritted her teeth, her hand curling into a fist at her side. "We all saw what you 'accomplished' on Sanctuary. But it's not the same as controlling a Reaper."

"A significant hurdle," the Illusive Man answered, waving an unconcerned, dismissive hand in her direction. "But thanks to the Prothean VI, I have what I need to make it a reality."

"The Catalyst," Shepard inferred, trying hard not to sound rattled at his knowledge.

"Yes," the Illusive Man answered, frankly.

Shepard pursed her lips as she stared at the projection, silently weighing her options, not wanting to let on too much of her ignorance to the Illusive Man but also wanting to know how much he, himself knew of the situation. "What is the Catalyst?" she finally asked, taking another challenging step forward. "And how exactly will it help you control the Reapers?"

At this, the Illusive Man raised his brows, flicking ashes dismissively from the end of his cigarette before indicating towards Shepard with it instead. "You'll have to ask the VI, yourself," he told her, shortly. "I'm done helping you."

Shepard scoffed at this response, propping an unimpressed hand on her hip. "When did you start?" she asked, incredulous.

"You think because I'm willing to use the enemy's tactics, that they're no longer my enemy?" the Illusive Man insisted, now sounding insulted. "Everything, Shepard – everything I've done has uplifted humanity. Not only above other species in our galaxy, but over the Reapers."

"If you're willing to do everything it takes, then hand over the Catalyst," Shepard told him, taking another step forward, frustrated. "With the Crucible, we can end this."

"It's not that simple," the Illusive Man countered, crossing one arm across his ribcage to rest the opposite elbow against it, distractedly flicking a few stray ashes from the end of his cigarette again as he did so.

"It is," Shepard insisted, her voice a sharp hiss, her fists clenching angrily at her sides again. "It is 'that simple'. We're fighting each other while the Reapers occupy Earth. It's time to stop."

The Illusive Man gave an apathetic huff, bringing his cigarette to his lips for a long, thoughtful drag, before blowing out the smoke in a thin, sharp stream, knocking the spent ashes from the end of his cigarette, taking his time. "Your idealism is… admirable, Shepard," he finally told her, picking over his words. "But in the end, our goals are simply too disparate. I believe destroying the Reapers would be the worst mistake we could ever make. And nothing you can say will ever convince me otherwise."

"Even with Cerberus in ruins, you still think you can do this your way," Shepard scoffed, holding out her hands towards him, exasperated.

"I would expect you to say that," the Illusive Man told her, letting out a disappointed sigh. "You never truly believed in us. Cerberus isn't just an organization, or the people behind it – Cerberus is an idea. That idea is not so easily destroyed." Taking another drag of his cigarette, he wet his lips, exhaling the smoke in a thick huff as he tapped the end of his cigarette with his thumb, shaking off a few loose ashes. "Besides," he added, smugly, looking up at her again. "I've already acquired what you're looking for."

"Miranda?" Shepard asked, glancing over her shoulder towards where Miranda still stood at the console, working feverishly on her override code.

"I've almost got it," Miranda assured her, fixated intently on her work.

"Miranda," the Illusive Man chided in return, his tone that of someone speaking to a disobedient child, causing Miranda to visibly flinch at the hated sound of his voice. "I'm surprised at you. Working so hard to take down an organization that did so much for you."

"Don't listen to him," Shepard insisted, watching as Miranda's expression steeled even further, her typing growing faster and more determined as she sought to finish her override code.

"You could have become my Head of Special Projects," the Illusive Man goaded her, not giving up so easily. "Had your own lab, your own team under your tutelage, your command. You could have done some real good in the name of science. But instead you chose to help the Alliance, and now what are you relegated to? A third-rate hacker?" Miranda said nothing in return, but Shepard could see her face beginning to turn bright red, her hands starting to shake with rage as she sought to complete her override. The console gave off a sharp beep as her hand slipped on one of the lines, and Miranda cursed under her breath, flustered, before tracking back to retype the line again, slower this time, so as not to make the same mistake again. Finally, stepping back from the console, Miranda threw her hands out to her sides, watching with a look of almost manic satisfaction as the coding box flashed green before collapsing back into the keypad control.

"Got it!" she exclaimed, out of breath, barely able to contain her excitement. Taking another step back, she turned her head, watching as a small green orb of flashing, rotating code began to take shape, lifting out of the keypad and settling a few feet away from the station chair. It flickered, uncertain, trying to restructure its fractured, stolen coding, before finally expanding and solidifying into the familiar form of Vendetta, looking around to observe its surroundings before focusing in on Miranda.

"Online," Vendetta reported. "Security breach detected."

The Illusive Man frowned, the edge of his nose wrinkling in a frustrated sneer, before indicating towards Vendetta with his cigarette, forcibly indifferent. "Enjoy your little chat," he told Shepard, facetious. "But don't overstay your welcome." Then, turning away from the ground team again, his holographic form flickered out, leaving the three of them alone in the heart of the station once more.

"You are attempting to recover me from indoctrinated forces," Vendetta observed, turning to face Shepard, curious.

"Yes," Shepard confirmed, taking a step forward towards the VI. "I need to know what the Catalyst is."

Vendetta thought a moment, its flickering coding speeding up momentarily as it searched its databanks, flashing bright green a few times before slowing back down again to its normal speed. "Security protocols have been overridden," the VI answered, cooperatively. "I will comply. The Catalyst enhances dark energy transmissions and coordinates the entire Mass Relay Network. In your cycle, it is known as the Citadel."

At this, Shepard faltered, taken aback by this unexpected twist. "…What?" she finally asked, making sure she had not somehow heard him incorrectly.

"The Catalyst is the Citadel," Vendetta repeated, more firmly this time.

Shepard frowned, glancing between Miranda and Thane to see if either of them understood what the VI was talking about any better than she did, before turning back to Vendetta and narrowing her eyes, propping her hands inquisitively on her hips. "So… the Citadel and Crucible together can stop the Reapers," she concluded, speaking slowly, still not entirely sure she was following.

"That is correct," Vendetta confirmed.

"But…" Shepard paused again, her frown deepening as she worried at her lower lip, still a bit confused. "But… the Citadel was built by the Reapers."

"The plans for the Crucible were passed down to us from the previous cycle, and countless cycles before that," Vendetta explained, evenly. "At some point, it is difficult to pinpoint when, the Crucible plans were adapted to incorporate the use of the Catalyst. Presumably, the Crucible was not sufficiently powerful to defeat the Reapers."

"So we used their own technology against them," Miranda concluded, her brow furrowing, intent.

"Precisely," Vendetta agreed, giving a curt nod.

Shepard huffed, still a bit confused, before pressing an exasperated hand to the side of her head. "Why couldn't you tell me this before?" she insisted, trying hard not to get frustrated at the VI.

"It was feared that if the Reapers were aware of the Catalyst's intended use, they would retake control of it," Vendetta explained, calmly. "I am programmed to withhold that information until the Crucible is complete."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Shepard let her hand drop back to her side, before turning away from Vendetta and starting to head for the door of the observation deck. "It's as ready as it's gonna be," she announced, waving a hand for her team to follow her. "Let's get it to the Citadel."

"That may no longer be possible," Vendetta informed her, quickly, causing her to stop short in her tracks, turning to face the VI again.

"Why not?" Shepard insisted, vexed. It felt like every time she thought she had found a solution, something else came up to block her way, and she was quickly getting tired of the futile runaround.

Vendetta flashed bright green in response, its coding speeding up momentarily as it watched her, considering its reply. "The one who broke through my security protocols – the one you call 'the Illusive Man' – has fled to the Citadel and informed the Reapers of our purposes," the VI finally answered, frankly.

Shepard gritted her teeth, her hand clenching into an involuntary fist at the news. "Damn it," she swore, looking away again.

"Then the Citadel is in danger," Thane concluded, frowning worriedly, causing the VI to look his way. "The Reapers will take control of it."

"They already have," Vendetta confirmed, nodding solemnly, before turning its attention back towards Shepard again. "The Citadel has been moved to Reaper-controlled space."

"Moved?" Shepard asked, startled, taking a few steps towards the VI. "To where?"

"To the system you refer to as 'Sol'," Vendetta answered, evenly.

"Earth," Shepard breathed, crossing her arms and looking at the floor again.

"Correct," Vendetta told her, giving another short, confirming nod. "The Reaper forces will now consolidate power around the Catalyst and protect it at all cost. The odds of accessing it are remote."

Shepard paused, staring at the marbled floor, her brow drawing into a thin, thoughtful line. Then, looking up at Vendetta again, she shook her head, letting her arms fall determinedly back to her sides. "Don't count us out yet," she told the VI. "We've come this far. We'll finish this. We'll get the Crucible to Earth." Turning away from Vendetta again, Shepard pointed towards her two party members, indicative. "Miranda, get me Hackett," she instructed. "He needs—" But before she could finish relaying her directions, a sudden burst of biotic energy interrupted her train of thought, scrambling the information on the panoramic datascreen and causing Vendetta to flicker and collapse back into a ball of spinning code. Turning to see what had caused the disturbance, Shepard felt her stomach drop out at the sight, feeling the hair on the back of her neck start to stand on end as she balled her hands into angry fists at her sides.

"You," she hissed, slitting her eyes at the unwelcome arrival and starting to reach for her Marauder.

Leng gave a cold chuckle in return, his hand poised threateningly at shoulder level as he began to slowly circle the party, like a predator closing in on its prey. "He did warn you not to overstay your welcome," he reminded Shepard, derisively. Then, before she had a chance to react, he darted forward, charging his fist, and drove it into the floor of the observatory, sending her flying backwards with the impact of the blast and sending pieces of flooring and pipework rocketing across the room.

Shepard hit the floor hard when she came back down, hearing a sharp crack as she made impact, but she did not even have time to register it before she had to throw up her arms to cover her head again, protecting herself from a rain of broken plexiglass and piping. Breathing heavily, she pushed the debris off of her, scrambling into a sitting position before looking down to see what damage had been done. She was horrified to realize that her abdominal guard had been broken in half across the middle in the blast, the pieces of tempered plexiglass jutting out in odd, razor-sharp angles from her breastplate and hip-guard, each half still held awkwardly in place by the straps around her back. Taking a sharp, mortified gasp of breath, Shepard reached down quickly, trying to force the pieces back together and clutching at her exposed stomach, which was now protected only by her undersuit. Then, looking up at Leng again, she pushed herself away from him across the floor, fumbling blindly for her gun and pointing it at him as she pressed her free hand against her stomach, holding the broken abdominal plate desperately in place.

Leng paused for a moment, staring at her, seeming a bit surprised, himself, before his lips suddenly curled into a thin, wicked smile. "So that's what you did with your rebuild, is it?" he asked, his tone sickeningly smug, beginning to pace in front of her. Giving a curt, mocking laugh, he spun his katana deftly at his side, watching as Shepard's gaze shifted anxiously from his face to his sword and back again. Then, shaking his head, he locked his harsh gaze on her, intent, like a predator closing in on an injured deer. "Foolish," he told her, his voice a dark hiss, the arrogant smile slowly falling from his face. "Selfish. No wonder the Illusive Man had you replaced." There was a strange, warped, animalistic tenor to his voice now, something in the way he spoke that made it clear that, while he had undoubtedly wanted to kill her before, he was now more determined than ever to see it through. The fact that he was so focused, so eager to be the one to say 'I killed Commander Shepard and her unborn child' made Shepard's blood run cold, and, letting go of her abdominal guard, she reached forward, gripping a piece of metal pipe jutting angrily out of the floorboard, and used it to pull herself unsteadily to her feet.

Glaring up at Leng, Shepard raised her hand again, a faint aura of biotic blue power pulsing between her fingertips as she gritted her teeth, determined. "He didn't have me replaced," she told him, clenching her hand into a fist. "I quit!" And with that, she forced her hand forward, letting loose an enormous, shrieking burst of biotic energy. Leng screamed loudly, staggering back in pain at the impact, every piece of tech on his body crackling with biotic force. He stumbled, falling to his knees, wracked with pain, but then, after a moment, he pushed himself back to his feet again with a snarl, refusing to be beaten so easily. Rushing forward towards Shepard, Leng swung his katana downward, aiming to split her head in half, but she reflexively raised her gun to meet his blow, blocking him and causing sparks to fly from the impact. Leng swung his sword at her again, at an angle this time, but again Shepard blocked him, pushing forward with her gun to stagger him off-balance before following up with a swift, hard kick to the stomach, sending him once more to the floor. Firing off a few blind rounds, Shepard ducked for the nearest cover, closer to the door of the observatory, and watched as Leng easily dodged her fire, leaping to his feet and rolling away before heading in the direction of the panoramic window.

"This is better than Thessia," Leng taunted, spinning his katana eagerly, waiting for her next move. "Much more personal this time. I didn't know your secret then. I don't know how I could have been so blind. But now I know, and now you're mine."

"Just because you didn't know it doesn't make it a secret!" Shepard shouted back, standing from her cover to fire off another round, which Leng was just as quick to dodge. Watching him move deftly across the room, Shepard steeled her footing, keeping her gun trained on his movements as she let her other hand hang concealed at her side, allowing her biotic charge to build as she waited for his inevitable approach. "You willingly allowed Cerberus to implant you with Reapertech," she told him, firing another few shots in his direction, keeping his attention on her weapon. "I'm not afraid of you. You have no principles. You're weak!"

"Let's not even talk about who allowed themselves to get implanted with what," Leng called back, coldly, before letting out a dark, mocking laugh at his own cruel joke. Shepard flinched at the insult, blushing hot red, before gripping her weapon even tighter and letting off another few rounds in his direction. Leng dodged the bullets again, ducking behind the Illusive Man's chair as one of the shots grazed the ground a few inches from his foot. "I am stronger for my implants," he called out, still taunting her. "We evolve or we die, Shepard. Those are the only options!"

"There are always more options!" Shepard shouted back, taking a few more shots in his direction, keeping him on his toes. By now her hand was glowing bright white-blue with biotic energy, but she kept it hidden behind her cover, forcing more power into it and clenching her hand into a fist as it began to emit a low, electronic-sounding hum. Taking a few last shots at Leng, Shepard ducked down behind cover again, swearing under her breath as she realized that the heat sink in her Marauder had begun to glow bright orange. "You took the coward's way out!" she called, popping out the spent heat sink with her thumb and starting to dig awkwardly in her pouch for a replacement. "You always were a coward, Leng. You'd rather run than fight like a man!" Pushing the fresh sink into the weapon with a click, she picked up her gun again, hefting herself heavily back to her feet, and turned around to face him again, only to find that Leng had managed to close the distance between them while she had been distracted with the heat sink and now stood directly in front of her, his katana ready at his side. Before she could lift her weapon to fire, he struck her hand with the blunt edge of his sword, knocking her Marauder to the floor and causing it to fire off a few stray bullets, before his other hand darted out quickly towards her, gripping hold of her throat and squeezing down hard, constricting her windpipe, causing her to see stars.

"I always wanted to kill you, Shepard," Leng hissed, bringing his face in close to hers. "But now I get to do better than that. Now I get to kill you both."

"Like hell," Shepard choked, feeling the blood rushing to her face as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Then, before Leng could see what was coming, she lifted her biotically-charged hand, clenching her fist as tightly as she could, and drove it directly into his face. Leng's grip on her throat relented instantly as he was thrown from his feet with the force of the blast, skidding backwards across the tile, leaving a trail of blackened, melted plexiglass in his wake. Released from his inhuman grip, Shepard gasped for breath, coughing and falling to her knees, before looking up in time to see Leng's cybernetic armour upgrades begin to whine like a grenade on the verge of explosion. His armour crackled with blue and white lightning as the biotic energy skipped across the reinforced surface, shocking and burning him, frying his systems, until finally, overstimulated with biotic power, the high-tech upgrades shattered with explosive force, sending pieces of armour flying across the room like a blackened, electric firework. Leng let out a feral cry, gripping his burned and bloody face as he collapsed to the floor of the station, tendrils of smoke drifting off his bare skin as what remained of his charred and ruined armour began to smoulder off his body in ashen tatters. Giving another strangled yell, Leng looked up towards Shepard again, starting to drag himself towards his dropped katana, but then, with one last, futile reach, he buckled, hand still outstretched, before laying face-down on the scorched, ruined floor, silent and motionless at last.

Shepard breathed heavily, watching Leng, hardly daring to believe he was actually defeated. Then, when another long, taut moment passed without him getting up, she gave a hard, victorious huff of breath, pushing herself back up to her knees before allowing Miranda to help her the rest of the way to her feet. Making her way over to where Leng lay sprawled, Shepard kicked his katana away from his hand, watching as it skittered across the floor before looking back down at his motionless body. "And that's what I did with my rebuild," she told him, her voice a low, triumphant growl. Turning away from the inert assassin then, Shepard made her way to the workstation again, sitting back down in the Illusive Man's chair and starting to type a command into the keypad. Pulling up a list of files and the Vendetta VI encryption code, she held her omni-tool scanner up to the console reader, allowing them to register one another, glancing over quickly as Miranda approached before returning her full attention to her work. The workstation reader gave a soft beep as it recognized the omni-tool, and a progress bar quickly popped up on the panoramic screen, starting to fill slowly with solid blue as the files began to transfer over.

Miranda gripped the edge of the Illusive Man's seat, watching intently as the progress bar began to creep closer to full, hardly daring to breathe for fear it might cause the system to crash. With their focus entirely on the screen, both Shepard and Miranda were too distracted to notice that Leng had begun to struggle to his hands and knees behind them, crawling painfully across the marbled floor towards where his katana had been discarded. Grunting in pain, he reached out to pick up his weapon, planting the katana against the floor and using the sword to push himself agonizingly back to his feet. Once on his feet, he panted heavily, his laboured breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as he turned in the direction of the workstation again, dragging his burned, ruined leg behind him and moving at a zombie's pace towards where Shepard still sat with her back to him, unaware. Taking another limping step forward, he raised his katana above his shoulders, preparing to bring the blade down on her head, but before he even had a chance to strike, he found himself suddenly stopped short. Leng gasped, choking, seeming surprised, before slowly looking down towards the source of the disturbance, only to have his dark, ruined eyes grow wide at the sight of a red-hot omni-blade sticking gruesomely out of the front of his chest.

For a moment, he could do nothing but stare, seeming unable to register what had just happened. Then, giving a gagging cough, he lurched up a gush of dark red blood, the liquid spilling over his chin and dripping onto his chest. His hands grew slack around his katana, his fingers loosening on the grip until he could no longer hold it, causing the weapon to clatter uselessly onto the floor behind him. His knees were quick to give way beneath him, and he slumped back uselessly against the omni-blade, causing Thane to take a step back as he withdrew his weapon from the assassin's chest. Letting his blade fade out again, Thane watched as Leng dropped to his knees, and then, with another choking gurgle, collapsed into a motionless pile on the floor. Hearing the sound of the commotion behind her, Shepard turned around in the Illusive Man's chair, looking down at the bloody carnage, seeming surprised by the sight at first. Then, looking up at Thane again, she offered him a dark nod of approval, before turning her attention back down to Leng and shaking her head, giving a soft, satisfied huff of breath at the sight of his ruined, defeated corpse.

"That's for my baby, you son of a bitch," she hissed.

A transmission from Anderson was already waiting for Shepard by the time she returned from Cronos Station, and she quickly made her way down to the vidcomm room, not wanting to keep him waiting too long. Pressing the flashing incoming message button, she took a step back from the vidcomm console, watching as the projection of Anderson flickered, the image fizzling in and out, shifting around, part of him disappearing momentarily only to be quickly filled in again as he moved forward into the centre of the pit. "Shepard, do you read me?" he asked, intent, his voice crackling over the console speaker, the audio hissing with static and white noise.

"Barely," Shepard admitted, making a concerned face as she tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie.

Anderson frowned at her answer, frustrated, before reaching forward to tap the invisible console in front of him, causing the image to sharpen a bit. Then, seeming satisfied with his makeshift fix job, he turned his attention back towards Shepard again, expectantly. "I assume you've heard about the Citadel?" he asked, his voice much clearer over the connection now.

"Just now," Shepard answered, truthfully.

Anderson nodded, understanding. "Do we know what's going on?" he asked. "Why it's here?"

"The Citadel is the Catalyst," Shepard explained, taking a hand from her pocket to hold it out towards him, clarifying. "Thanks to the Illusive Man, the Reapers are now aware that we know."

"And so they moved it here to protect it?" Anderson asked, his lined brow furrowing as he tried to understand what she was telling him.

"As far as I can tell," Shepard returned, frankly, letting out a soft sigh as her hand dropped back to her side again.

"So what does this mean for the Crucible?" Anderson asked, clearly pressed for time. He glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to be interrupted at any moment, before turning his attention back towards Shepard again, intent.

Shepard shook her head, taking an uncertain step back from the vidcomm console. "I'll talk to Hackett," she told him, fairly. "But… it looks like our plan is even more desperate now."

"Agreed," Anderson answered, offering a curt, discouraged nod. "I've got a team in London. The Reapers have been preparing for something here… now we know what for." Taking a step back towards the back of the pit, he glanced over his shoulder again, anxious, clearly hearing something she could not, before turning his attention back to Shepard again. "We'll scout it out," he assured her, shortly. "Try to find out as much as we can."

"Roger that," Shepard confirmed.

Anderson nodded again, seeming distracted, his dark gaze drifting to a corner of the room as he tucked his hands thoughtfully behind his back. Then, suddenly straightening again, he looked back at Shepard, raising his bushy brows and offering her a kindly, amicable smile. "Well, at least we'll be seeing you sooner rather than later," he told her, trying his hardest to sound upbeat.

Shepard hesitated, unsure how to respond to this, before taking a step forward towards the pit and offering him a small, wan smile of her own. "Be careful, Sir," she told him, earnestly.

"You too, Shepard," Anderson returned. "Anderson out."

Despite the shortness and relative direness of the conversation, Shepard could not help but feel a bit better after her discussion with Anderson. It had been so long since she had gotten to talk to him one-on-one without Hackett standing over them and driving the conversation that it almost felt like a welcome distraction from the goings-on of the Normandy. Turning away from the vidcomm pit, Shepard made her way through the war room again, passing around the galaxy map station towards the ship's elevator, heading down to the main crew level. She could feel a knot of apprehension twisting itself in her stomach as she pressed the button going down, and she leaned back against the wall of the elevator, taking a few deep, reassuring breaths, trying to go over in her head exactly what she would say when she arrived. The elevator gave a soft ding as it reached her designated floor, the doors sliding open with a soft hiss, and for a moment she stood still against the back wall, not moving, debating whether she should just skip telling him altogether and pretend their earlier conversation never happened. Her attention moved distractedly across the memorial in front of the elevator as she thought, her gaze coming to rest on the nameplaque pinned to the top, and for a moment, she hesitated, frowning faintly, before letting out a soft sigh and pushing herself away from the back wall of the elevator.

"You'd want me to tell him, wouldn't you, Kaidan," she breathed, her fingers drifting over the name engraved on the nameplate before falling back to her side again. "You always did keep me honest." Turning away from the memorial again, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, taking a deep, readying breath, before starting to make her way towards the ship's gunnery. She paused outside the door of the gunnery, feeling the same sense of sickening dread, before straightening her shoulders and taking another step forward, activating the weight sensitive plate, causing the door to slide open to allow her inside.

Tali looked up in surprise as the door opened, quickly straightening her posture from where she had been leaning against Garrus' calibrations desk and turning to face Shepard, crossing her thin arms self-consciously over her chest. "Shepard," she said, sounding surprised to see her there. "It's… good to see you! We were just… saying goodbye."

"And making friendly wagers," Garrus added, cheekily, seeming much less nervous at having been interrupted.

Turning to face Garrus again, Tali scoffed, good-naturedly. "Optimistic wagers," she corrected. "In your case."

"A turian military operative competing with a quarian… mechanic," Garrus told her, pausing to mull over a polite, concise title for her position on the crew. "And I'm the optimistic one?"

"Do you remember Ilos?" Tali challenged, leaning against the desk again, seeming almost to forget Shepard was there.

Garrus sighed, looking down to the floor, before turning his patient attention back up towards Tali again. "Yes," he said, playfully long-suffering. "It was full of geth, which tilted the odds in your favour."

"Excuses, excuses," Tali teased.

Garrus shrugged. "I doubt you'll be hacking any synthetics this time," he told her, smirking.

"I still have the shotgun," Tali pointed out, offering an impish little shrug in return.

"I'll be sure to let a few Reaper forces get close enough for you to use it," Garrus assured her, giving a soft chuckle of amusement. Then, turning his attention towards Shepard again, he raised his plated brows, offering her a friendly smile. "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Shepard?" he asked. "I remember you said you had something to tell me after you got back from Cronos Station."

"It's…" Shepard hesitated, biting her lip, her gaze flicking anxiously to Tali before moving back to Garrus again. Despite his cheerful tone and obvious good intentions, she was still finding it hard in the moment not to feel betrayed and put on the spot. "It's nothing," she said, shaking her head, trying to keep as straight a face as possible. "It's not important. I'll tell you about it later."

"The mysterious Commander Shepard," Garrus teased, causing Tali to give a small laugh in return. Shepard could feel the tips of her ears burn red at being made fun of, but she quickly swallowed her affront back down again, not wanting to seem like she was overreacting. Instead, she shrugged, raising her brows, and offered them a thin, crooked smile in return.

"That's me," she answered, weakly, forcing a soft, awkward breath of a laugh. "Mysterious."

The door of Shepard's cabin slid open quietly, causing Shepard to look up from where she sat, cross-legged, on the bed, her datapad balanced between her knees, lost in worried thought. Liara peered in at her from the doorway, hesitant, as if waiting for an invitation to come inside, before cautiously moving in past the door and starting to make her way towards the bed where her friend sat. Shepard gave a soft sigh as she approached, turning her attention back to the datapad in her lap, and when Liara sat down on the bed beside her, she realized that what Shepard was looking at was the four-dimensional image of her ultrasound. Shepard frowned at the image in her lap, dragging her finger distractedly across the screen, shifting it around, as if looking for something specific. "Shepard?" Liara asked, gently, causing Shepard to glance up at her again before turning her attention back towards the screen. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

Shepard hesitated, staring down at the ultrasound image in her lap. Then, setting the datapad aside on the bed, she gave a heavy, tired sigh, resting her hands against her knees as she stared down at her stomach in front of her instead. "There were… information stores in Cronos Station," she finally answered, quietly, not wanting to give too much away. "Research logs, talking about… all of Cerberus' genetic experiments. What they did with them. How they weren't all… up to code." Going quiet again, she stared in worried silence at the floor of her room, her brow furrowing deeper as she tried to think how best to explain her distress to Liara. "I'm really scared, Liara," she finally told her, looking up at her friend again, her voice shaking with honesty. "Cerberus used Reapertech in my rebuild. The same tech the Reapers use to make Husks. I'm just… I'm really…" She stopped again, her voice catching in her throat, before leaning down towards her knees, overwhelmed, tucking her hands protectively over her head.

"I'm really scared my baby is going to come out and end up being… one of those… creatures," she whispered, barely daring to even speak the word, for fear it might somehow make it that much more true. "We found out… they said this baby would never have even existed if not for Reapertech. What if this isn't just a freak pregnancy, Liara? What if I'm… a gestation tank, for the next evolution of Reaper soldiers?" Looking up at Liara again, she indicated her stomach, desperate. "What if, by keeping this baby, I'm just adding to their strength, fuelling their adaptation?" she asked, fearfully. "If I have this baby, if I allow her to come into this world… who knows what could happen? Who knows what I could be starting?"

Liara sighed, gently, reaching over a hand to rub Shepard's back reassuringly as she returned her head to her hands, overwhelmed. "You're overthinking this, Shepard," she told her, speaking quietly. "Even if Cerberus did use Reapertech in your rebuild, it's impractical for Reapers to depend on organic procreation methods for their soldiers. Right now, it takes hours, days at most to make a Husk—"

"And they last for maybe a week," Shepard told her, sitting straight again, cutting her off sharply. "Three weeks at the most. A Reaper soldier born into its technological enhancements, though— it could last years." Holding out her hands in front of her, she stammered wordlessly, tripping over her syllables as she shook her head, desperate, unsure how else to express her sheer panic at the idea. "It's not impractical, Liara," she told her, her voice rising steadily in pitch. "It's terrifying. It's terrifying, and it's—it's not impractical, it's practical, and it's… it's horrific—"

"I'm sorry, Shepard," Liara apologized, quietly, cutting her frantic fumbling short. Wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulders, she drew her in closer towards her, leaning her cheek against Shepard's head and letting out a deep, soft sigh. "I didn't mean to sound like I was invalidating you," she told her. "I just hate to see you worry, that's all." The two sat in silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say, the soft sound of the bubbling fish tank filter the only thing breaking the uncomfortable quiet. Then, seeming to get an idea, Liara lifted her head again, reaching back towards where the datapad had been set aside on the bed and pulling the pad back into her lap. "Let's take a look at your Reaper baby," she said, teasing gently, balancing it against her knee so Shepard could see the screen as well. Shepard sniffed, rubbing absentmindedly at her eyes, before resting her head on Liara's shoulder and looking down at the pad in her lap, watching as Liara tapped the screen, pulling up the four-dimensional image of the ultrasound. "Look, look there," Liara told her, expanding the image and pointing to the ghostly baby's still-closed eyes. "There's her cybernetic optical implants… every good Reaper creature has them."

"Of course," Shepard agreed, weakly, playing along as best she could.

"And look," Liara added, dragging the image downward again and pointing to one of the baby's miniscule balled fists. "There's her metal grappling claw. She might have to grow into it a bit, but I think it should work for her just fine until she gets the hang of using it." Shifting the image around some more, Liara next pointed to the baby's tiny feet. "Take a look at those claws," she teased. "You're right, Shepard, this baby is a menace. And is it just me, or does she look a little bit like Saren?"

At this, Shepard laughed out loud, unable to help herself. "I would never have slept with Saren," she told Liara, shaking her head, wiping absentmindedly at her eyes again. "Nihlus, maybe, if he was into it. But never Saren. I promise you that." Taking a deep breath then, she smiled sadly up at Liara, before letting out a long, soft sigh, unable to help but feel a sense of relief pass over her at her friend's reassurance. "Thank you, Liara," she told her, quietly, leaning over to pull her into a warm, grateful hug. Setting the datapad aside again, Liara returned the hug, just as warmly, before nestling her head comfortingly into Shepard's shoulder and letting out a soft sigh of her own.

"Everything is going to be fine, Shepard," Liara assured her, gently. "I promise."