The delegates filed out of the Council Chambers after another grueling session of peace talks. Admiral Shepard rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the headache that threatened to bloom.

Primarch Vakarian approached him in the hall. "Admiral," the turian's mandibles clicked in what Shepard now recognized as a sign of contemplation. "I believe we made some progress today, particularly regarding the joint development initiative in the Skyllian Verge."

The human nodded. "I agree, Primarch. It's a step in the right direction."

"I was hoping we could discuss some of the more technical aspects of the proposal," Castis said.

"Right now?"

"Yes. I would like to send a report on our progress to the Hierarchy. You know how long it takes to get things approved through the chain of command. So I was thinking of getting it over with as soon as possible to have a definite answer for you by the next session," Castis spoke almost apologetically at this point. "I understand your exhaustion."

"You look pretty fresh yourself, Primarch," Shepard made a small laugh. "I know turians keep different hours. What is the Palaven day cycle? Forty hours?"

"Indeed," Castis smiled.

"I guess your day is only starting."

"Believe me when I say the Council has a unique ability to wear down even the most resilient of turians," Castis mused, and Shepard laughed again. "Perhaps we could go to my office in the turian embassy? It would afford us more privacy and access to data terminals. It's two levels down."

The admiral considered his proposal for a moment. While eager to return to his apartment and decompress before the dinner with Kathreen, he recognized the importance of maintaining momentum. "Very well, Primarch. Lead the way."

Garrus walked out of the elevator preoccupied with thoughts of today's session. It wasn't going as well as he expected, but it wasn't a complete disaster either. Whatever his father had discussed with Shepard afterward likely had something to do with him being summoned to the Primarch's office.

As he entered the Turian Embassy space, the familiar scents and sounds washed over him. It was a small piece of home in the vast expanse of the Citadel, yet today, it failed to offer him the comfort it usually did. He made his way straight to the Primarch's chambers. The guards at the doors, already notified of his summons, allowed him entry without hesitation.

"…we'll need to address security concerns if this is to succeed."

Castis Vakarian was sitting in his office in the company of Admiral Shepard, and Garrus was surprised at the sight of them engaged in a conversation over the peace issues outside of the Council's halls.

"Primarch. Admiral," he bowed slightly.

"Major," Shepard acknowledged returning the gesture.

The human looked tired. He rubbed his eyes and turned back to the Primarch as he continued talking. "The Alliance doesn't have outposts in the region for obvious reasons. Just patrols. We'll have to rely on your data for that."

"Yes," Castis nodded pensively, then looked at Garrus. "Major, I need you to review the latest intelligence reports on pirate activity in the Verge." He looked back at the admiral. "Six months?"

"Should be more than enough," Shepard agreed.

"Go back six months," the Primarch instructed. "If memory serves me, we have two outposts in the region."

"That's correct, sir," Garrus replied.

"Pull data on reported colony attacks and grapples with civilian vessels."

Garrus nodded, understanding the importance of the task. Batarian and krogan pirate crews had been terrorizing the Skyllian Verge ever since he could remember. With the First Contact War raging on, they were getting bolder. Most turian ships patrolling that space usually had specific orders from high command, focusing solely on Alliance activity, and were at times forced to turn a blind eye to the illegal operations of the marginalized races. Creating a joint patrol initiative with the humans was actually a good idea—it would send a clear message to the thugs that considered the Verge their territory. It would also give Garrus something to focus on besides a certain human female that refused to leave his thoughts. "Of course, Primarch. I'll get right on it."

Garrus made another respectful nod and left the chambers, making his way towards the embassy's data center just down the hall. However, as he rounded a corner, he came face to face with the last person he wanted to see.

Saren Arterius stood in the hallway, that eerie cybernetic eye of his gleaming in the artificial light. A smirk played across his mandibles as he regarded Garrus. "Well, well. If it isn't the Primarch's faithful son."

Garrus felt his plates tighten. "Spectre Arterius. Imagine my surprise meeting you here of all places."

Saren gave him an assessing look. "Last time I checked this was still the turian embassy."

"Didn't know you considered yourself to be one," Garrus scoffed.

"I sure don't if it means taking orders from a Vakarian." The enmity the Primarch had for the Spectre was clearly mutual. "Tell me, how does it feel to be your father's errand boy?"

"It's called following orders, Arterius. Not that you know anything about it," Garrus retorted. "Probably as little as what it is to be a good turian."

"Aaah," Saren drew, amused. "The good turian routine. Highly overrated, pup." Garrus cringed internally at the pet name. "You should know. It's been a while since you've been one. I'm sure the Hierarchy would agree."

The younger turian flinched at the words. Did Saren know something about his record? Ever since Lindor, his position with the high command was shaky at best. They were concerned with Vakarian's tactics and decisions on the battlefield. The incident on Torfan only made things worse. But Garrus didn't care—everything he did, he did to reduce casualties among both turians and humans. Yet word got out that the major might not be the same formidable officer he once had been, one who believed in victory over the humans at all cost. Second-guessing orders was not something a good turian should do.

"And what about the Spectre routine?" he winced. "It's been a while since you've been one."

Saren barked in a laugh that was cold and mirthless. "Oh, Vakarian. So naive and idealistic. Talking about Spectres like it's something you could ever be."

The barb struck home, and Garrus had to fight to keep his composure. "What do you want, Saren? Surely, you have better things to do than lurk in hallways."

"Perhaps," the barefaced replied. "But I'm really curious about these... talks. Tell me, do you truly believe they will amount to anything?"

Garrus narrowed his eyes, studying the older turian. "That's the goal we're all working towards. Peace benefits everyone."

Saren smirked, his cybernetic arm humming softly as he made a dismissive gesture. "Peace with these humans? They're fledglings playing at galactic politics. Savages who stumbled upon the mass effect technology and now think they can stand toe to toe with species that have been space-faring for millennia."

"Isn't it too narrow-minded for the Council's representative? Humanity has proven itself capable and resilient. They deserve a place at the galactic table."

"Ah yes, I forgot," Saren's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You've developed quite the fascination with humans, haven't you?"

He froze.

Seeing his reaction, Arterius continued, "Tell me, does the Primarch know about your little dalliance in the gardens?"

Garrus felt his blood run cold. Shit. Did Saren know about Katie? Had he been watching them? The implications of that were worrying, at best. "Is there a point to this or are you just playing the observer's game," he said keeping his voice steady.

Saren's mandibles spread in a predatory grin. "Just thought you two looked cute. And the way the human's face changed colors… She is something, isn't she. Pretty little thing. And the admiral's daughter, no less."

Garrus uttered a warning growl, before he could stop it, giving Saren exactly what barefaced wanted—the satisfaction. He fought to regain control. Saren was just baiting him, had nothing solid. All he saw was Major Vakarian talking to Kathreen Shepard in the Presidium garden. It was Garrus's reaction that Arterius needed to fill in the blanks; without it everything else was just speculations.

He calmed himself, refusing to play games.

"Lurking in the gardens and spying on people does not become you, Spectre. And since when are you interested in humans anyway?"

Saren's mandibles twitched in a sneer. "It's more of a curiosity really. They say you can't really appreciate a human until you've experienced one yourself. So tell me, Vakarian, is it true? Are they really that... soft?"

Garrus tensed, sensing the conversation was headed in a dangerous direction. "What are you getting at, Arterius?"

"Oh, come now," the Spectre chuckled darkly. "Surely you've noticed. Their skin tears so easily, bruises at the slightest touch. No plates, no carapace. Just flesh waiting to be punctured."

"They're tougher than you give them credit for."

The cybernetic eye whirred when Saren fixed Garrus with a knowing look. "Perhaps. But you can't deny their fragility. Take that female, for instance. One wrong move and..." He made a crushing motion with his hand. "Well, let's just say it would be a shame if someone got too rough."

Garrus growled. "Is that a threat?"

"What? No," the Spectre said, his tone laced with false innocence. "I've seen the way you look at them. At her. Does it excite you, knowing how pliable she is?"

Garrus's mandibles clenched tight against his face. "You're out of line, Spectre."

"Am I, pup? You seem awfully defensive of these aliens. Tell me, are you one of those who prefer them soft and breakable?"

"Enough!" Garrus was seeing blue, his every instinct screaming at him to attack. But he held himself in check, knowing that's exactly what Saren wanted. "You know nothing about me or what I prefer."

"Oh, I know more than you realize. Just remember, Vakarian. Some things are like humans—too fragile to last." His good eye sparked. "You two are on the Citadel now. Rules are different here."

What did he say? Now? Garrus felt heat rush up his neck. Did Saren know something about before? No, there was no way he could? He hadn't been there.

Spectre's face was a mixture of sly satisfaction. Garrus clenched his fists, resisting the urge to lash out. Stay cool, don't give him what he wants. "What about you, Arterius? Why are you on the Citadel? If you don't believe in these talks, what's your stake in all this?"

For a moment, something flashed in Saren's eyes—a hint of some deeper purpose, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual cold demeanor.

"I'm here at the Council's request, of course," he replied smoothly. "Someone needs to keep an eye on things, make sure everyone is... behaving themselves."

His every word was subject to interpretation. The dual meanings, the coyness. Fucking Arterius. Garrus didn't believe him for a second. There was more to Saren's presence than he was letting on, but what?

"And I suppose that someone is you? The Council's attack varren, always ready to bite on command."

Spectre's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch yourself, Vakarian. You're playing in a league far beyond your comprehension. It would be a shame if your little human infatuation was to become public knowledge."

"Is that another one of your veiled threats?" Garrus growled, broadening his shoulders in a challenge.

Saren remained unmoved. "Merely an observation. But then again, perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. You always did have a weakness for lost causes, didn't you? First your failed attempt at becoming a Spectre, and now this misguided peace initiative."

The words stung, reopening old wounds. Garrus had never quite gotten over the disappointment of his rejected application, and Saren knew exactly where to hit to cause the most pain.

"At least I haven't abandoned my principles," the major shot back. "You may wear the title of a Spectre, but you've forgotten what it truly means to serve and protect."

"Principles? In this galaxy? How quaint. You sound just like your father—always clinging to outdated notions of honor and duty. It's no wonder he blocked your Spectre candidacy. He knew you were too weak to do what was necessary."

Garrus felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

Saren's mandibles spread in a cruel smile. "Oh, he never told you I knew? Your father and I, we have history. The concept of Spectres is lost on the Primarch. He believes it is a mistake to grant anyone supralegal authority and declare them exempt from oversight. When he caught wind of your application, he couldn't bear the thought of his precious son becoming like me. So he pulled some strings to make sure it would never happen—"

"How insightful," Garrus interrupted, not needing a lecture. Not from Arterius. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You don't know how he did it?" Saren's eyes gleamed with anticipation, as he was savoring the moment. "The Primarch is a very influential and respected figure, with a long reach and vast connections… in that tiny world of his they call Palaven. But when it comes to the Citadel space, he is nothing more than just another politician. Blocking your candidacy required more power than he could ever hope to wield. He's always disapproved of my methods, called them 'dishonorable.' But he knew, deep down, that I get results. To be rejected by the Spectre program, you either have to be proven inadequate and incompetent or someone has to speak against your admission. Someone like a Spectre."

The revelation left Garrus reeling. Had his father really sabotaged his dreams of becoming a Spectre with the help of the one person who had no business bearing the title? The thought was almost too preposterous.

"You're lying," he spat, but his voice lacked conviction.

"Am I?" Saren mocked. "Ask him yourself if you don't believe me. But we both know you won't. You'll go on pretending to be the good turian, following orders, never questioning. It's pathetic, really."

Garrus felt his anger rising, threatening to boil over. He took a step towards the Spectre. "You don't know anything about me or my father. You're nothing but a bitter, barefaced—"

He didn't finish. The words died in his throat as a scent, familiar and warm, brushed his senses, catching him off guard and pulling his focus.

Garrus turned his head to the click of her footsteps the moment she appeared from around the corner. Katie looked radiant. Her shiny hair was intricately twisted into some sort of woven pattern that ran down one side, resting neatly against her shoulder. She was dressed in civvies—a simple black top and pants—that fit tight, too tight. Heat spread across the back of his neck. Why was she wearing that? Didn't she know how she looked?

Saren's nostrils flared. "Ah, speaking of our little human..."

She stopped short, her violet eyes widening in surprise as she took in the scene. She clearly hadn't expected to find Garrus here, but it was the presence of his companion that truly caught her off guard, transforming her surprise into something far more guarded.

"K…" Garrus started slightly agitated, but then quickly straightened himself. "Miss Shepard. What brings you to the Embassies?"

She managed a forced smile. "I'm here to meet my father. We are going for dinner on the Presidium."

"How fortuitous to see you again, Miss Shepard," Saren interjected smoothly.

Katie's eyes snapped to the ashy-grey turian. "Spectre Arterius," she acknowledged stiffly.

Garrus glanced between them, his brow plates furrowing. "You two know each other?"

"Oh yes," Saren purred, his gaze never leaving her. "We had quite an illuminating conversation on Arcturus Station. Isn't that right, my dear?"

Her cheeks burned at Saren's words, more from indignation than embarrassment. "It was hardly illuminating. More like an exercise in xenophobic rhetoric."

Saren grinned exposing sharp teeth. "Come now, don't sell yourself short. Your passion for the stars was quite inspiring. Tell me, do you still find them fascinating? Or do you finally see what this galaxy truly is?"

Garrus felt his mandibles click at the realization that she shared something with Arterius.

"I'm sure the admiral is waiting," he said, taking a half-step closer to Katie. "Allow me to escort you."

Saren watched his attempt to end this conversation and lead the female away. He also saw she hesitated. Before Katie even answered, he suggested in a silky voice, "Perhaps I could escort you. It would be my pleasure."

"No!" Garrus bristled feeling the familiar protectiveness surging from deep within. There was something in the way Saren looked at her that set off every warning bell in his mind.

Spectre's mandibles flapped with enjoyment. "My, my. Such vehemence. No need to be so protective, pup," he drawled. "The young lady and I are old friends. Aren't we, Kathreen?"

"We're nothing of the sort," she snapped, violet eyes flashing with defiance. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd address me properly, Spectre."

Instead of being offended, Saren seemed to relish her challenge. His eyes gleamed with renewed intensity. "Such fire," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's truly remarkable how you manage to burn so brightly in a universe determined to snuff you out."

Garrus decided he'd heard enough. He placed a hand on Katie's shoulder, gently but insistently steering her away from Saren. "We should go. The admiral will be wondering where you are."

As they turned to leave, Arterius called after them. "Do give the admiral my regards. And Vakarian... try to remember where your loyalties lie. We wouldn't want any unfortunate misunderstandings to arise from these peace talks. Especially given your... history with certain parties."

Garrus froze, his grip on Katie's shoulder tightening momentarily. She looked up at him confused. "What is he talking about?"

"Nothing," he growled, shooting a venomous glare at Saren. "He's just trying to get under our plates. Come on, let's go."

Once they had put enough distance between themselves and the Spectre and were safely out of earshot, Garrus asked in a low voice, "Are you okay? I know this isn't the best place to talk, but..."

She sighed, smoothing her hair—a gesture he recognized as strikingly similar to how turians flick their fringe when stressed. "I'm fine," she said, but her voice betrayed her.

"Has Arterius... bothered you? Outside of that encounter on Arcturus?"

Katie shook her head. "No, nothing like that. It's just... The way he talks, is like he knows something about you."

Garrus nodded, understanding all too well. A deep concern for his female that had always been there was now sharpened by Saren's words. His? Was she still his? Now that they were alone, should he finally ask? Somehow he couldn't bring himself to do so. It seemed inappropriate.

They continued walking towards the Primarch's office in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they approached the entrance, the C-Sec guard informed him, "Major Vakarian, I'm afraid the Primarch and Admiral Shepard are still in their meeting. They've requested not to be disturbed."

Garrus nodded, somewhat grateful for the unexpected opportunity to spend some time with Katie.

"We can wait out here," he gestured to a small seating area nearby. She followed him to a pair of chairs set slightly apart from the main corridor.

As they sat down, an awkward silence fell between them. There was so much Garrus wanted to say, but he was acutely aware of other people around them, some with sharp hearing more than capable of picking up their conversation. Katie seemed equally conflicted, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap as she avoided meeting his eyes.

"What did Saren mean?" she suddenly asked. "Does he... does he know about Lindor?"

Garrus's mandibles tightened against his face. "It's impossible," he said. "The only ones who knew were you and me. Everyone else..."

"Is dead," she finished for him, a haunted look crossing her face. "But the way he spoke... If he knows..."

Katie rose abruptly, pacing toward the panoramic windows. She stood there, staring out at the sprawling view of the Citadel, her back stiff. This couldn't be happening. The nightmare was supposed to be over. She had crossed millions of light-years, left everything behind, buried it deep. Yet somehow, it had followed her even here, despite all her efforts.

"I can't…" Her hands rested against the cool glass. "I can't take anyone finding out what happened. To me. To us."

Garrus watched her in silence, studying the lines of her human shape. She might have seemed composed, distant even, but faint reflection of her violet in the glass told him everything words never could.

He finally saw it. While he had been dealing with the fallout of his failed mission, his frustrations with the Hierarchy, and the confusing tangle of feelings he had for her, she had been enduring something far worse. All that terror, all that trauma… Lindor hadn't let her go, even if she tried to pretend otherwise.

He moved in closer, perhaps a little too much. "Katie..."

When she turned to look at him, Garrus put his arms on her for support, not caring in that moment who could see. Her distress was devastating. His body rushed to sooth her the way it always did. The way he never understood.

"It will be alright."

His dual-toned voice was so concerned, so affectionate. It grounded her. She closed her eyes shut and steadied herself. Garrus reached out, gently caressing her cheek. The gesture, familiar and comforting, made her lean into his touch despite herself.

"Listen to me," he said, subvocals thrumming with reassurance. "Even if he does know something—which I doubt—he has no proof. It's just speculation and mind games. That's what Arterius does best."

Katie nodded, drawing strength from him. But as she looked at the turian, she saw a flicker of doubt, a shadow of the same fear that gripped her heart. They both knew the stakes if their secret came to light.

Despite the feeling of longing in his chest, Garrus withdrew his hand, and made a step backwards, only now noticing a curious look of one of the embassy guards.

He did it just in time for the doors to the Primarch's chambers to open, and the admiral emerge, followed closely by Castis Vakarian.

"Ah, there you are," Shepard said amicably. "I hope we didn't keep you waiting long."

"Not at all." Katie's earlier vulnerability vanished in an instant, slipping behind the polished mask of composure she wore so well. "Major Vakarian and I were just discussing the peace negotiations."

The Primarch's keen eyes darted between his son and the human pup. "Something we might be interested in?" he mused. "Admiral and I would appreciate any input."

Katie stepped closer to the Admiral. "Nothing of use to you, I'm afraid. The major shared some very interesting insights into turian culture. It's been quite educational."

Shepard nodded, seemingly unaware of the slight tension between the two young people. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Ready to go, my dear?"

"Of course," Katie replied. "Thank you for your time, Major. Primarch."

Her eyes darted to the younger turian for a split second, then she turned away and let Shepard lead her away. Garrus watched them go, barely registering his father's presence until Castis spoke.

"Major, a word."

With a final glance at Katie's retreating form, he followed the Primarch into the chamber. As the door closed behind them, Castis Vakarian walked to his desk, taking a seat and gesturing Garrus to do the same.

"There is something we need to discuss," he said with a weary voice. "But first, let's deal with those reports."

Shit.

Garrus shifted uncomfortably, his mandibles tightening against his face. "I'm afraid I didn't make it to the archive, sir."

"And why is that?" Castis's subvocals buzzed with surprise.

Garrus hesitated, knowing his father wouldn't approve of his reasons. "I escorted Miss Shepard to the Embassies. She seemed... unsettled."

"By what?"

"By Saren," he admitted. "He cornered her in the hallway. I didn't think it wise to leave her alone with him."

Castis leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What would Arterius want with the admiral's daughter?"

"That's just it," Garrus said. "I don't know. This whole thing with Saren... it doesn't sit right with me."

The Primarch nodded slowly. "I share your concerns. Saren's presence here is... unexpected."

"Unexpected?" Garrus scoffed. "It's downright suspicious. Since when has he ever been an advocate for peace between our species?"

Castis sighed heavily. "Since never. But the Council insists on his involvement. My hands are tied."

"The Council," he muttered. "Always playing their own game."

"Watch your tone, Major," his father warned, though his own subvocals betrayed a hint of agreement. "They may have their own agenda, but they've kept the galaxy stable for centuries."

"At what cost?" Garrus challenged. "How many species have suffered because the Council decided to look the other way?"

"It's not that simple, and you know it. Their decisions may seem callous at times, but they're playing a long game. Galactic stability requires... compromises."

"Compromises. Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Enough," Castis snapped, no real heat in his voice. "The Council's methods may be questionable at times, but they've kept their influence because they're shrewd. They know how to navigate the complex web of interspecies politics."

"And where does that leave us? Pawns in their game?"

The older turian shook his head. "Not pawns, Garrus. Players. But we need to be careful. These peace talks are delicate. We can't afford to let our distrust cloud our judgement."

"I understand. But I can't shake the feeling that there's more going on here than we realize."

The Primarch studied his son, noting the tension in his posture.

"Your concerns about the Spectre are noted. But he's not your primary focus. These peace talks are too important. I need you sharp and focused."

His son straightened, pushing aside his personal worries. "Of course, sir. You can count on me."

"Good. Now, there's something else we need to discuss. Admiral Shepard has invited us to dinner at his residence."

Garrus's brow plates rose in surprise. "A dinner invitation? That is... unexpected."

"Indeed," the Primarch agreed. "He claims it's to establish rapport."

"You don't believe him?"

"Not sure yet. Perhaps the humans wish to gather information, to see us in a less formal setting," Castis trilled pensively. "I decided to accept the invitation to see what comes out of it."

The major was silent. Sensing there was more on his mind, the Primarch asked, "What is it?"

Garrus hesitated, unsure how much of his own concerns to reveal. "It's just... this whole situation. The peace talks, Saren's involvement, now this dinner. It feels like everyone has their own agenda, and we are walking into it blindfolded."

"Welcome to the world of high-stakes diplomacy, pup," Castis said, a hint of dark humor in his subvocals. "But remember, we're not without our own resources. The humans may think they're being clever with this invitation, but we can use it to our advantage."

"How so?"

His mandibles spread in a predatory grin. "By playing their game better than they do. We'll use this invitation to gather our own intelligence. To find the cracks in their armor."

Garrus nodded, agreeing with his superior out of reflex, but a part of him recoiled at the idea of exploiting the dinner—and by extension, Katie—for their advantage.

"There's one more thing," Castis said growing serious. "Major Alenko will likely be there."

Garrus felt a surge of old anger at the mention of the name. "I can handle Alenko."

"Make sure you can. We can't afford any confrontations, not when we're so close to a breakthrough in the talks."

Garrus bowed slightly. "I understand, sir."

"Good," Castis said, his voice softening slightly. "I know those memories are painful, Garrus. For all of us. But we can't let the past dictate our future."

"I won't let you down, Primarch."

Castis seemed satisfied with his reply. He leaned forward, posture shifting as he moved on to other matters. "Now, let's discuss the progress of the peace talks. The humans are pushing for more concessions on trade routes through the Attican Traverse. However, safety remains a major concern. You've been dealing with the pirates in that region for years. And knowing you," he smirked, "you still keep tabs on the region. What's your assessment of the situation there now?"

For the next hour, the two delved into the specifics of the Traverse, discussing pirate activity and potential trade route security measures. As the conversation wrapped up, Garrus's mind began to wander. The upcoming dinner weighed heavily on him—a mix of anticipation and unease. It was a chance to see Katie in a more informal setting, perhaps even have a quiet moment with her. But it was also a political minefield, with plenty of room for missteps and tensions. Then there was Alenko, a different worry than his father imagined. The image of the human major looking at her with clear admiration lingered in Garrus's thoughts. Was there something between them? The idea stirred a hint of jealousy, followed quickly by shame. Did he still had any claim over the female or right to feel possessive. Was she his?

"Garrus?" His father's voice snapped him back to the present. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, sir," he replied quickly. "I was just... considering the implications of this dinner invitation."

Castis's mandibles twitched in amusement. "It's important to think ahead. But don't overthink it. Remember your training. Observe, analyze, don't jump to conclusions. The humans may be unpredictable, but they're not unknowable. If they're planning something, we'll figure it out."

Garrus nodded, still filled with doubt, "Have you considered the possibility that it might be just what Shepard says it is? A way to establish rapport?"

The Primarch took a long moment looking at his son. "Briefly," he admitted. "If it is what I think it is, I want us to be prepared. If it is indeed what Shepard claims… well, let's just say it will be something I'm not at all prepared for."

Garrus gave his father a small smile, as he stood up to leave.

"One more thing, Major," the Primarch said as his son reached the door. "Whatever happens at this dinner, whatever you might learn or suspect... remember where your true loyalties lie. The peace talks are bigger than any one of us. Yet even the truce with humans is only as important as the Hierarchy deems it to be. Our duty is to our people, not to the idea of how we believe things need to turn out. We can't afford to let personal feelings cloud our judgment."

Garrus stepped out of the office, his thoughts a chaotic storm. Desire warred with duty, hope with caution. The Primarch's words—eerily similar to Saren's—lingered. It was hope that Castis warded him against. That irrational want to ignore all the challenges, to wish them away, to believe there was a future where peace was possible—not just between two peoples, but between two individuals.

But even as that hope bloomed, doubt crept in. The dinner invitation made him wondering if the Primarch was right about the admiral's hidden intentions. If so, would he be able to do what was necessary and put responsibility before desire?

Garrus paused at a window, looking into the Citadel artificial sky. Somewhere out there lay the answers he sought. The truth about Saren's true agenda, the key to lasting truce between their species, and perhaps, just perhaps, a way to reconcile his duty with his heart.