Let me begin by correcting something from last week. I did not give credit to Jawaswag Jenkins for helping me to narrow the song list and for suggesting "Under Control" by Parachute. I always want to give credit where credit is due and I sincerely apologize for forgetting to add that in the author's note last week. Jenkins has been a great help allowing me to bounce ideas off of and suggest alternative paths. So, thank you Jawaswag Jenkins.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and those who are new to Familial Ties. I apologize that it took so long to update, but you know how life gets sometimes. I know the last few chapters have been pretty depressing, but don't worry! I won't spoil anything but this one is not as depressing as the last two. I hope you enjoy, and any questions/comments are welcome! Thank you for reading/following/favoriting and reviewing! Hope you enjoy! P.S. I only had a chance to read through it once... so sorry if there are obvious mistakes.

Chapter 22

"Sir, do you really believe that we need her? It is an awful lot of expense for a questionable result at best."

The man tapped his cigarette above the ashtray and took another pull, "We need Shepard. No one else believes in the Reaper threat and she has the ability to inspire those around her. If our mission is to succeed we need Commander Shepard."

Had… Miranda wanted to correct him. The spectre was dead, they should move on from their original plan and find someone else. "Sir, if I may," she waited for him to nod for her to continue, "What makes you have so much faith in her capabilities?"

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at her, "Just look at her accomplishments: Elysium, becoming a Spectre, tracking down a rogue Spectre, saving the Citadel, and managing to save the Council and defeat the reaper."

"Speaking of her saving the Council, what makes you think we could trust her in going along with our plans?"

He grinned. Miranda was a valuable asset but she questioned a lot of his motives, As well she should. "She managed to give humans good standing with the Council and now a seat with them. Besides," he smirked, "I have a feeling that she may be a little bitter with the Council for ignoring her warnings and sending her on a wild varren chase. There is also the case that she never wanted the life she was dealt," he smirked knowingly.

Miranda stared at him, unsure how he seemed to know so much. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No, Lawson, that is all."

She turned on her heel and headed into the elevator. Her boss certainly was an enigma, but she couldn't argue that he didn't render results. He had done a lot for her and others under his payroll and he was about to do a hell of a lot for Shepard. The door opened and another person came into the small space. "Kai Leng," she greeted half-heartedly. There was something about him that always bothered her.

He nodded and gave a little smirk, "Lawson. Have a nice chat with the boss?"

"Piss off, Leng."

"Ah, so he shut you down. I could have told you that. He is right, you know. Shepard is needed."

Miranda rolled her eyes and turned on him, "And what makes you so knowledgeable? No one here has ever met this woman yet everyone seems to be singing her praises."

Kai Leng leaned closer to the woman, his face mere inches from hers. The corner of his mouth quirked up, "Why else do you think the boss is so convinced that we need her? She has a solid enough history on her own, but how would he have more personal information about her? Ever think of that you bio-engineered bitch?"

She wanted to hit him, no doubt he deserved it for a million other things. "You?" she asked as the door opened to her floor. Everyone had a story and she knew most of them, except his, "When?"

"Another life," he huffed out a laugh. He nodded to the door, "Don't miss your floor."

How much time has it been? Does it really matter? No, not really. Garrus thought as he looked through his scope. At first he thought he had been thinking of the task at hand, but deep down, he knew better; he was thinking of her again. Now isn't the time, he reminded himself.

There was movement and he snapped back to attention. As soon as he fired the shot, all hell would break loose. The door opened. A shadow appeared. Come on… show yourself! As if the gang member had heard him, the man stepped out, flanked by four other members and Garrus put a shot right through his head. More shots rang out as the others were felled and a small vehicle pulled out, attempting to smuggle the cargo. Before it could even travel past the second building, a pillar of fire knocked it into the air causing the transport to explode.

Garrus activated his comm, "Good work, team. Zero casualties and we got those thugs off the street along with their cargo. Rendezvous at base at 2100." He heard confirmations come back and he scoped out his team and waited for them to all leave the scene before he made his way out. His team, it was a strange thought. After leaving Spectre training, he never thought he would be in charge of others. But at least here, in the shit-hole of the galaxy, he could try to make a difference; or at least piss off enough gangs and go out with a bang.

He immediately headed back to base. Unlike most of his crew, he lived here. He didn't have a life outside of this one. Thankfully, he was able to keep a low enough profile to hide suspicion, but he knew that he was only playing with fire. After completing the perimeter check and making his way up to his room, Garrus stretched out on his cot. He pressed a button on his omni-tool and closed his eyes.

The sweet melodic sounds of her voice began to come through and Garrus let out a pained sigh and turned off his translator. He had discovered a few weeks after receiving her message that he knew every fragment of her message by heart, every word, every sigh, every intonation of her voice. It wasn't long after that when he realized that his translator didn't pick up everything; so, he began to turn it off. At first, he had a hard time processing the human language, but now, it was second nature to him. Sometimes, he would test himself and listen to some of his human crew without his translator on and he could understand the gist of their conversation. Not that I will ever need that skill, he thought.

"….Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul, That love never lasts. And we've got to find other ways to make it alone, Or keep a straight face. And I've always lived like this, Keeping a comfortable distance. And up until now, I have sworn to myself, That I'm content with loneliness. Because none of it was ever worth the risk. Well you are the only exception. You are the only exception. You are the only exception. You are the only exception…."

Garrus began to whisper along, trying to make the human words as best he could.

This was how he relaxed. This was how his stress never affected him. This was how he kept his sanity.

She stared at her console. What do I even say? What haven't I said already that might make him answer? Tali glanced at the clock but realized that she didn't even remember when she first sat down. Please, John, why won't you answer me? She had lost track of how many messages she had sent him, of course she could look it up on the console, but then the rejection would only sting that much more. But can I really blame him? I am the one who left. He had already lost so much and I still left. Heaving a sigh, she rested her head in her hand and began to drum her fingers on the desk.

"You know, if you keep that up, you might wear a hole in the metal," a voice from behind her said.

Sitting up straight, she turned to look at her friend, "Keelah, you startled me, Kal'Reegar."

He cautiously came into the room and leaned against the door, "Anything you want to talk about? You have been sitting there for quite a while."

"Oh? Have I?" Tali looked around. "Must have gotten lost in some calculations. I'll be right out."

The quarian male stared at his friend as she turned away from him but he quietly exited without further protest.

Tali typed away on her console. She would continue to contact him as long as she could. Maybe one day he will answer. If I am persistent, he will have to do something.

Liara sat at her desk as she sent another encrypted file to her contact. She had realized a while ago that this was what she was good at, but it still didn't make it any easier to forget the life she used to have. Those were the days… she thought, Despite the constant threat of death, I had never felt more alive. Her new life fit her, she knew that she was good at it, but she couldn't help but wonder what would happen with the Reapers.

I know Shepard wouldn't sit idly by… and neither will I. She will make the biggest difference in this galaxy.

A ping on her console brought her back to work and she opened the comm channel. "Feron, good to hear from you again," she greeted the drell on her screen.

"You as well, Liara. I don't have much time to chat, but I wanted to alert you to the package we discussed. I have the location."

"Moreau, do you have any suggestions for us?" the engineer called over.

Joker rolled his eyes, he couldn't take much more of this, "Yeah, I do. For starters, the entire console is too cluttered, the organization is terrible, the overlay should be redone from scratch, the controls are stiff and she couldn't maneuver around a moon let alone a firefight. Let me know when you manage to fix at least one of those problems." He ignored the gaped mouths as he swayed to his feet to position the crutches under him and exit.

Fucking bullshit. Just fucking bullshit, he grumbled. Of course, he knew it was his own fault. He had been given any choice of ships to pilot and he had turned them down. There was only one ship he wanted to fly and only one person he would fly under, and both of them were gone, Because of me. So, instead, he was left to act as a consultant for new designs of ships, but he had incredibly high standards. Joker had tried to convince them to build a ship modeled after the Normandy, but they had refused, time and time again. "Not cost-effective" they would always respond, Yeah, just as cost-effective as retrieving Shepard. So much for 'no man left behind'.

Opening the door to his apartment, Joker hobbled inside and came to a halt, "Can I help you?" He stared at the woman sitting properly in his chair in the skin-tight white and black suit.

"Jeff Moreau, I have a proposition for you."

Joker looked the woman up and down, "Funny, I thought this sort of thing usually happened on corners or in dark alleys."

The woman narrowed her eyes at him but remained calm. "I am not a prostitute. My name is Miranda Lawson, and I am here to offer you a job. And before you say no, we are prepared to offer you quite a hefty sum compared to what you could make in the Alliance."

"First off, a job for who? Because it looks like you are from Cerberus." When she nodded, Joker couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Yeah, okay," he laughed, "I have heard of some of the things you do. I don't think I want to be associated with those kinds of activities."

"Our focus has shifted and our new path requires us to have you."

"Really? What could be so important that you need me specifically?"

"We need your expertise on a particular ship, the Normandy."

"So you can steal her design out from under the Alliance?" this woman was already getting on his nerves.

"Partly. But we need you for much more than that."

"Well, for starters, there are two reasons why I won't work for you. One, the only ship I am willing to fly is the Normandy, everything else is sub par. And two, there is only one commander I would fly under. So, unless you can reverse time, I suggest you get the hell out."

Miranda took a few steps forward and looked down at him, "We may not be able to reverse time, Mr. Moreau, but we can raise the dead and fulfill both of your requirements."

Joker stopped and looked up at the Cerberus operative with new light. "Want to fill me in a bit more about this job?"

A ping sounded on his console downstairs. John looked at the clock but the numbers never registered in his brain. What's the point? he asked himself. Normally, he would call it the same routine, but he didn't have a routine anymore. Since Jane had passed and everyone had left, he didn't have anything to focus on anymore. He thought about going back to C-Sec, but he couldn't motivate himself. There was no appeal to anything anymore.

Heaving out a sigh, John stood up and made his way to the console. He saw three new messages: one from his mother, one from Joker, and one from Tali. For a moment, he debated on which one to open. Each of them were intriguing in their own right: hearing from his mother was a surprise, she had barely spoken to him since the memorial, he had received a message or two from Joker before, most were just him bitching about the Alliance and apologizing for what had happened, and Tali… well, he had received a lot from her, he read through them all but never responded.

Letting out a sigh, John opened the one from his mother first:

John,

I must say that I was a little disappointed when I heard that you turned down the opportunity to join the Alliance, and to top it off, you have not returned to service with C-Sec. I understand that you are probably hurting. We both are. But Jane would not want us to live in the past. If you are worried about how to honor her, joining the Alliance is the best way….

John stopped reading. Yeah, because she just loved the Alliance so very much. It was so much more than just losing Jane, and yet his mother didn't know him well enough to know that or to even ask. He decided to look at the next message, the one from Joker:

Hey, man. I really hope that you read this. I know you have kind of dropped off in communication with everyone but hear me out. A woman by the name of Miranda is looking for you. She has a pretty lucrative job offer to extend your way. Please, hear her out. You will be surprised just what is possible. – Joker

He sat staring at the message and quickly reread it. This message wasn't like the previous ones he had received from the pilot, short, to the point, and seemingly completely serious. Giving a shrug, John looked at the next message. He wasn't sure if he would want to read through Tali's. Every time he read through one, it cut a new hole into him.

Dear John,

I am worried about you. I have not heard from you and no one else has seemed to either. I just want to know that you are okay. I have tried to keep up with everyone, but we are all drifting apart. Garrus was the first to drop off the grid, I don't want you to follow suit. Please, please, answer me. I am so very sorry. I don't know how else to say it anymore. What can I do to make things better?

Nothing, John thought. He stood up and grabbed his jacket, leaving the rest of the message unread on the console. There wasn't a destination in mind, but he just had to leave, clear his head a little. He couldn't be sure, but he felt as if he had circled the Presidium twice before finding his way into the Wards and down into Chora's Den. Normally, he would feel awkward being in here, but he found himself in the club more and more just to help forget what was going on. He never paid for a dancer, and by this time they had stopped approaching him. Heading for his normal seat, he raised a hand at the bartender and she brought him his drink. He leaned into his hand, drank the alcohol down and stared at the empty glass for a few minutes before ordering another.

Just as his next drink arrived, so did another body who sat next to him. "Evening, John. I heard that I might find you here."

Looking to his right, John said, "And who did you hear that from, Anderson?"

"I have my connections. You know, you are starting to seem like Harkin. You might want to be careful or you'll get a reputation."

John could tell that the man was trying to joke, but it was falling flat. "What do you want, Anderson?"

"Nothing in particular. Just looking for a familiar face. I just don't want you to lose faith in yourself, son."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine." John ignored the presence beside him until he couldn't hold back his question anymore, "My mother sent you, didn't she?"

Anderson chuckled, "I told her you wouldn't fall for it. But I didn't come for her. I came for you ." He tapped on the bar near John, "Think about what not only Jane, but your father as well, would want for you."

"Yeah, yeah… thanks for the pep talk, Councilor." John felt the man get up and leave and turned back to his drink. He downed the rest of the alcohol and by the time his next one came, he felt another presence beside him. Without turning his head, he could only make out the waves of black hair beside him. "You must be new here, I don't pay for dances."

"Good, because I am not for sale."

John slowly looked at her and leaned back a little, taking her in.

"What is with you men and thinking I am a whore?"

It was a little funny, but he wasn't really in the mood, "Your outfit suggests otherwise." John looked down at the small orange logo on her chest, "And, judging by who you work for, I wasn't far from your profession."

"Careful, you might be working for us too."

"Ha!" John laughed and threw back his drink. "I have seen what that company does. So, what the hell could you do or say that could convince me?" She grinned a sweet smile, one John was sure she had practiced in the mirror before.

"Do you know the story of Lazarus?"

He stared at her, thinking for a moment, "Something about resurrection?"

"Yes. And at our company, we have that ability."

"And I am sure that you are using it for the good of all the universe, right? Let me guess, trying to bring back Saren? Or maybe even the reaper?" John shook his head and planted his hands on the bar, ready to leave.

"Close, but no," she smiled like she knew a secret. "We were thinking of your sister."

John stopped just as he had begun to push himself up. Slowly, he sat back down and rubbed his jaw. He forgot that he now had a short beard. "It's not possible."

"It is. And it is happening whether you sign up or not. But, we would like you to be a part of the project… for her sake." Miranda stared the man down, hoping she had said the right thing to convince him. She thought they could complete this project without him, but the Illusive Man insisted.

John rubbed his face and eyes, trying not to believe her but he wanted to, "How can I know I can trust you?"

"I understand that Cerberus doesn't have the best track record, but our intentions are genuine. We believe Commander Shepard about the Reapers and we know she is the only one who could and would be willing to face them head-on. But, for now, you will just have to trust me. And if that doesn't work, maybe knowing that we already have Dr. Chakwas and Jeff Moreau signed on."

Hearing Joker's name caused John to think back to the message he had just received that morning. He had only skimmed it, but obviously the man had been serious. "Your name wouldn't happen to be Miranda, would it?"

"I see that Joker's message got through to you. Even in your drunken stupor."

John stared into the bar, all of his thoughts rushing to the front of his mind, trying to find a way to find out if all of this was legitimate or not. "Can I see her?"

"Eventually, but right now she is… recovering."

He knew that there would probably be strings attached to this opportunity, implied or otherwise. He thought about all the people he would have to cut ties with to protect them from being linked to Cerberus. But, then again, he had already started that without the help of the suspicious company. "When do we leave?"

"What do you think he does in there all the time?" Sidonis asked the rest of the group sitting around the table as he peered into the small office that their leader sat in.

"Probably just going over the next mission," Monteague, a human, replied.

"What does it matter?" a batarian, Ripper, said.

"I want to know," Sidonis snapped. He had met Archangel in Afterlife and they formed the squad together. Sidonis knew that he wasn't in charge and he was alright with that, but he didn't like being kept in the dark.

"He is remembering ones he has lost," Mierin said matter-of-factly. She was the only asari in the group but it never really mattered.

"How do you know? Did you do your little 'mind meld' thing with him?" a female human, Melanis, asked.

"Oh, no. I don't think that turian will let anyone in his mind."

"Then how do you know?" the woman asked again.

Mierin smiled awkwardly, everyone's eyes were on her. Now she wished she hadn't said anything, "I overheard him one night. I heard music playing and I could hear his subharmonics crying for whoever he lost. I can only assume it was whoever was singing but I know I have never heard that voice or those songs before."

Everyone was quiet as they looked between each other, at the table and finally to their leader's door.

Thoughtfully, Butler, another human, asked the group, "How much do we even know of his past?"

"Practically nothing," answered Sidonis. How could he be around his friend and not know something that pained the other turian this much? One thing was for sure, Archangel did a hell of a job covering it up.

"Has anyone ever tried asking him?" Melanis asked.

Everyone looked at each other before breaking into laughter.

Garrus heard the laughing outside his door and managed to work out a grin. It was good to hear his group in good spirits. They were working their way through the ranks of each gang and were making quite a bit of progress, even managing to make some money with their endeavors. Turning back to the message, Garrus ran his thumb over her smiling face. What I wouldn't give to have one more moment with you. His thought caused him to begin scanning through the message, looking for the particular song that described how he was feeling.

He turned off his translator as she began to lead into the song, the melody consuming him, her voice allowing him to imagine her sitting across from him… as long as he kept his eyes closed. His subharmonics began to cry and ache for her as he began to mouth the words as best he could, "Could you beam me up, Give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it, I'd probably just stare, happy just to be there holding your face. Beam me up, Let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter, I think, a minute's enough, Just beam me up."

He bowed his head as he listened to the song, his back to the door, and blocking out everything around him to better imagine her; the silky texture of her gold fringe, her laughter, the blue of her eyes, the softness of her skin under his talons, the feeling of her lips against his mouth.

Sidonis slipped silently into the room and looked at the turian that now went by the name Archangel; he did not look like the same strong, confident, unyielding turian Sidonis knew. He looked like a broken man, who had lost his entire reason for existing. "She has a lovely voice. Any singer I would know?"

Garrus snapped upright and turned to see Sidonis standing in the doorway. The other turian's face was placid but his subharmonics hummed a sympathetic tone. He must have heard mine. Stopping the music, Garrus looked at his friend, "No. Is there something you need, Sidonis?"

"We were wondering if you had planned our next mission."

Thankfully, he had, "Yeah, let's go talk to the team." Garrus pushed past Sidonis, turning on his translator and made his way to the table in the common room.

That is the turian I know, but who is that mystery woman? Sidonis thought when Garrus moved past him. He now looked every bit the part of Archangel. One would never be able to tell that he had lost so deeply.