The Illusive Man stood and stared out at the roiling, swirling surface of a red giant star. His hands were clasped behind his back as he waited for his expected call. There came a soft 'beep' from his chair, and he looked down to check that his jacket was straight and his cuffs in order. The Cerberus leader turned and strode towards the holographic display connected to the Normandy's Quantum Entanglement Communicator. This was going to take some very fancy verbal footwork on his part, and he calmed himself by remembering that he had at least a hundred years of experience on...

"Shepard!" he called out jovially.

The holographic image of the Spectre gave him a single nod in reply.

"I've received Ms. Lawson's report on the Hock mission. I'm glad for your success. How's your injury?"

Shepard gave a one-shoulder shrug and winced a little as the movement pulled at his side. "Side still hurts, but I'm healing fast. Whatever enhancements you guys gave me sure work like gangbusters."

The Illusive Man nodded and kept smiling. "Excellent. And I'm sure Ms. Goto will prove to be a valuable member of your team. Speaking of which...what, exactly, are your plans regarding the other assets you used during the mission?"

"The Organization folks, you mean? I have no plans. They're free to go."

"Hmmm. I see. And what of the graybox? Ms. Lawson's report didn't say what was ultimately done with it."

"Kasumi has the final say on that," said Shepard. He raised one eyebrow. "I hope you won't suggest anything obvious, like handing it over to Cerberus for safekeeping?"

The Illusive Man was, of course, itching to get that graybox into Cerberus hands. But he was not stupid enough to appear eager to do so. Aloud, he said "No, I trust you will keep it protected. It's not in Cerberus interests to have humanity involved in a pointless war."

"Very thoughtful of you. I also hope you don't suggest that I do anything rude with the Organization people...such as killing them."

The Illusive Man shrugged. "I can't say I'm happy about your working with them. You understand that we are in open conflict with the Organization. Still, they did help out with achieving Cerberus goals-"

"My goals, you mean," interrupted Shepard. "My ship, my crew, my mission. You told me that time and again. So frankly, how I achieve that mission is none of your damned business."

"Of course," replied The Illusive Man smoothly. "And as long as they depart right away, I consider the matter settled. Just be aware, having them continually in contact with you could create problems."

"Oh, don't worry. As soon as Dr. Chakwas gives the go-ahead they'll be gone like a shot." Shepard tilted his head. "One last thing. You wouldn't know how Kai Leng wound up crashing the party at Hock's place, would you?"

The Illusive Man didn't let the slightest flicker of unease show on his face. This was the part which would require him to appear the most sincere. "I have not the slightest inkling. Mr. Leng is...er, was a capable operative. Certainly capable enough to track his quarry to Hock's compound by himself. He had been tasked with finding and eliminating certain Organization people who'd interfered in Cerberus operations. It appears he let his zeal override his good judgement. It's a pity, he showed such promise. In a way, I'm grateful to you for killing him. It saves me the trouble to have him found and disposed of."

"So he had no official sanction from you to act as he did?"

"Of course not! You're our most valuable asset, Shepard. Why would I risk your mission to perform some routine assassination?"

"Oh, I don't know. Leng was equipped with an optical cloak like Kasumi's, and that ain't something you buy off of the street. Maybe he was there to kill some people...and also to steal the graybox from us in all the confusion. Lotta interesting info in there, after all. You'd have all sorts of details on Alliance Intelligence. And lots of juicy blackmail material on Admiral Hackett and his allies."

The Illusive Man did his best to appear bored. "I won't deny the graybox would be of interest to Cerberus. But it's not that important. It would have been criminally stupid of me to risk the huge amount of money we've spent on you and the Normandy." He waved a hand dismissively. "Leng is dead, solely due to his own arrogance. Tell the Organization people that I consider the entire matter settled. Cerberus has more important things to do than get into gunfights with gangsters."

Shepard smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. "I'll pass the message along. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we're off to get the next recruit on your list. Warlord Okeer."

"Good. I know he's had contact with the Collectors in the past, and he should be able to give you some insight into their biotech capabilities. Okeer is apparently quite a brilliant geneticist."

"A krogan scientist," mused Shepard, then shook his head. "Now I've heard everything."

After the hologram faded, The Illusive Man let out a breath. That had gone better than expected. He felt again a spurt of anger at Leng. The man had promised him that he'd retrieve the graybox with no one the wiser. And Leng was practically an N7, how in the name of anything holy had he allowed himself to get killed?

Well, in any case he had several other methods to track the Organization operatives after they left the Normandy. And after an appropriate amount of time had passed he'd make sure they felt the wrath of Cerberus. But it would have to be done discreetly. His mind began to work through it as he turned back towards the view of the red giant that dominated the room. Perhaps he could hire some mercenaries, and make it look like a simple robbery gone bad?

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After the proverbial dust had settled, Kasumi's lounge became the locale for an impromptu party. Due to the number of injured, it was a more subdued affair than it might be otherwise. Shepard was still walking with a hitch in his side, and both Garrus and Cammy were hobbling around with canes. Bast was at the bar and apparently determined to not leave it.

John's arm still sat encased in its protective sleeve, and Persephone wasn't allowing him to use the other arm to hold his drink. Instead she sat in his lap and insisted he use his good arm to hold her. The asari daintily held a glass of bourbon to his lips whenever he asked for it.

Kasumi sat on the couch opposite theirs and smiled at the sight of the pair as they cuddled. "You two seem pretty well attached," she said. There was a little bit of melancholy in her voice.

Persephone took her own dainty sip of bourbon from the glass. "I guess we are."

"You guess?" asked John with amusement.

Persephone gave him a mock glare. "Fine. How about this? No matter where you go I'll find you."

"I could take that a few different ways," replied John. "What would you do when you found me?"

"Oh, I'd do such horrible things," replied the asari. She leaned over and whispered into John's ear, and Kasumi was amazed to see the assassin actually blush.

The thief laughed as Persephone stood. "I'm getting a refill. Don't move, or I'll hunt you down." The asari sashayed off as Kasumi leaned forward.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

John shook his head.

"When you first came on the ship, you mentioned something about love making people do things they wouldn't do normally. Did you have someone like that?" Kasumi motioned with her hood towards Persephone. "Someone before her, I mean."

John leaned forward as well. "Yeah, I did. I lost her. It wasn't anybody's fault, she just...got sick."

Kasumi's shadowed eyes were bright and intent. "I imagine it's hard for someone in your line of work to have a normal relationship."

John nodded.

The thief dropped her eyes to the deck. "It's also hard for me. I never expected to meet someone like Keiji. He knew me, he knew what I did for a living. But he just accepted it. I owe him so much."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"This is about the graybox." John didn't phrase it as a question.

Kasumi looked up, her shadowed eyes slightly damp. "I can't imagine erasing it. I know I should, it's far too dangerous otherwise. But it's the only bit of him that I have left."

John looked over at Persephone. The asari walked towards them with a newly-full glass. She saw the two of them with their heads together and detoured away to chat with Shepard. He smiled at how quick Persephone was and turned back to Kasumi.

"A lot has happened to me since Helen died. Not all of it was nice. But the universe has a way of surprising you. Here and now, I have somebody to care for. I'd never thought I'd have that again. But I know that Helen would be glad to see me happy." He looked up, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Just as I know that Keiji would want nothing more than to see you happy."

He leaned back and stood, then walked away without another word.

Kasumi sat and pondered for a bit, then stood as well. She strolled over to Shepard, who was now looking out the lounge's viewport. John and Persephone were off in one corner of the lounge and making out like a couple of teenagers.

"I want to delete it," she said in a low voice.

Shepard nodded. "Are you sure?"

Kasumi looked down and sniffled. "Yes. All I ask is...he must have left a message to me in there. I just want to look for it before...you know."

A taloned hand settled on her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. "Are you okay?"

She looked around and up into Garrus' worried blue eyes. She patted the turian's hand. The small pieces of his natural armor plating felt hard under her fingers as she did so.

"I'm good." Kasumi's eyes got a wicked glint in them. "We monkey-girls are tough. Do you mind if I ask you to join Shepard and I? There's a little message I need to listen to." She looked over and saw Nathan leaning against the wall and chatting with Mackie. "Him too."

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The thief stood in the Normandy's shuttle bay as the images formed in front of her. She knew that the people behind her would see it as just images floating in mid-air. But for her those images held additional sensation. She could smell Keiji, she could almost feel his body heat as he floated in front of her and spoke. His gaunt face was creased in an atypical frown as he stared at her.

"Kasumi. If you're seeing this, it's because I'm dead. The information I found is all here, in my graybox. It's big, Kasumi. If the Council ever got wind of this...the Alliance could be in big trouble."

Keiji's avatar dropped his gaze, as if he was ashamed. "Kasumi, I...I encrypted the information to keep it safe. And I uploaded the encryption key to your graybox, so no one could get the whole package. But if I'm dead, and if anyone knows about this...then I've made you a target, my love. I'm so, so sorry."

Kasumi felt tears start in her eyes again. She kept staring at Keiji's avatar as she spoke. "It's okay, Keiji-kun. I would never betray you. I can stay off of the grid. Nobody ever needs to know what I know."

Keiji's image smiled and gave her a wink. "Oh, I know you, you little minx. You'll want to keep these memories forever. But you don't need some neural implant to know I'll always be with you. Please, Kasumi. Destroy these files. That's the best way to protect you."

Kasumi bit her lip. "I...I can't do that! This is all that's left! This is all I have left of you..."

It was only a trick of the graybox, she knew that, but suddenly Kasumi was overwhelmed by the memory of the last time that she and Keiji made love. The vision of their two supple bodies entwining was foremost in her mind as she reached out to touch the face of the only person she could ever call 'hers'.

"Keiji...I can't do it!"

His own narrow face was composed and held a slight smile. "Goodbye, Kasumi. Know that I've always loved you."

The onslaught of memories faded, and Kasumi gradually realized that she was now kneeling on the hangar deck.

Nathan cleared his throat diplomatically. "Ah, yes. Is there a way we could just destroy the information? It seems more...appropriate to leave the memories themselves intact."

The thief stood. Her legs were jelly, but at least her knees weren't knocking together. "No. Keiji was a master at encrypting files. He laced the information into his memories. You can't get at the one without experiencing the other."

Shepard spoke up. "You've got to let go of him eventually, Kasumi."

She didn't look back at any of them. "I know, it's just...it feels like I'm losing him. All over again." Kasumi thought about John Wick, and the losses he'd experienced. His words to her kept echoing in her head.

The universe has a way of surprising you.

Maybe he was right. Maybe there was somebody else out there she could have a real relationship with. Kasumi nodded and squared her shoulders a bit. "Yes. Yes, we should delete this. It's the best solution all around." Before she could stop and question herself, Kasumi leaned forward into the display to access other portions of Keiji's graybox. The portions related to deletion.

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Shepard looked around the lobby of the Bekenstein Continental with trepidation. "Why are we here again?"

John Wick led the reluctant Spectre through the quiet expanse. "Just a little bit of housekeeping." He smiled at the dark-skinned human behind the counter. "Hi. Name's Wick. I believe we're expected?"

The concierge gave a wide smile. "That you are, sir. Second door on the right."

Wick stalked off with purpose through the hall behind the front desk. Shepard figured he should go ahead and follow him. The dark-suited assassin opened the indicated door without knocking and stepped through. Shepard gave a final scan of the hallway behind them and followed.

Inside was a standard hotel room, with the usual ornate but bland furnishings and the usual uninspired artwork. What wasn't usual was the old woman seated in a chair next to the window. She had an olive-colored complexion and a silvery prosthetic eye. Next to her was a truly huge bastard dressed in a dark suit like John Wick's. The big guy also had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. He smiled at Shepard in an amiable fashion, but the Spectre got ready to boogie out of there.

"John!" said the old woman. She pushed herself upright with a grunt of effort, using a cane she carried in one hand. She gave Wick a one-handed hug, then smiled at Shepard. "And another John as well. It's a pleasure to meet you, dear." In lieu of a hug, she extended her free hand.

Shepard shook her hand carefully. "Yeah, hi. It's a pleasure, Miz...?"

"Mrs., actually," said the woman. "Mrs. Carmichael. I was the Organization's liason during the whole business with Admiral Hackett and this sourpuss." She nodded her head towards Wick, then smiled. "You don't mind if I sit? My joints aren't what they used to be."

The Spectre gave a brittle smile of his own. "Sure, go ahead. Not to pry, but why are you here?"

Mrs. Carmichael sighed as she seated herself. "Well, for starters I have to give this sourpuss his payment, along with the rest of his crew. I know what you're thinking, that could have been done through means that didn't involve me hauling my bony ass around the galaxy."

Shepard laughed. "I wasn't going to be quite that uncouth, but yeah, I'm kinda wondering why you're here."

She looked behind her at the huge man in the corner of the room. "Jackson? If you please."

Jackson opened the flap on the messenger bag and reached into it. Shepard made ready to launch himself to the side if need be. But instead of a weapon, Jackson pulled out a book.

A very big book.

It was bound in leather, and a good three inches thick. Jackson handled the object reverently as he stepped next to Mrs. Carmichael. She looked up at John Wick with a very fixed expression.

"Are you sure you want to do this, John?"

Wick nodded. "I do."

Mrs. Carmichael sighed. "Okay, then." She nodded at Jackson, who reached into his messenger bag once more and produced a pen. He handed the pen to John Wick, who took it with a deep ceremonial bow. The big man then flipped the book open to a particular point indicated by a silk bookmark. The book was a ledger of some sort. Shepard saw many lines of names, separated into pairs. The Spectre leaned forward in interest, and saw that the pages were not paper, but some sort of parchment. Judging by the stains around the edges of the book, this must be an object which was centuries old.

Mrs. Carmichael's voice lost its jovial tone. "Mr. Wick. Do you accept this obligation?"

John Wick nodded. "I do."

"Very well. Sign it."

The assassin leaned forward and scrawled his signature on the next blank line on the opened page.

"And so it is witnessed, and so it is signed," said Mrs. Carmichael. Her voice sounded as if she was reciting a magic incantation. "Now for the pledge of blood."

Jackson held the ledger in one hand, while with his other he reached into his bag and produced a flat sliver object which looked like an ornate makeup compact. Jackson handed it to Wick with a little ceremonial bow.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Pledge of blood? Maybe you guys should clue me in on..."

As he talked, John Wick pressed a button on the 'compact's' edge. It flipped open, revealing a central portion of two white semicircular halves separated by a metal ridge. A thin metal pin poked up from the edge of the object at the same time. Wick slowly drew his thumb along the pin, then pressed it against one half of the compact's interior. He slashed his thumb again, then leaned forward and pressed another bloody thumbprint next to his signature in the ledger.

Jackson nodded reverently and shut the ledger with a snap, He stowed the massive tome back in his messenger bag, then folded his hands and waited patiently.

John Wick snapped the 'compact' shut with a click. The pin he'd used to injure his thumb retracted back into the object's body at the same time. He turned and extended the 'compact' to Shepard.

"For you," he said simply.

Shepard didn't take it. He looked steadily at Mrs. Carmichael. "Maybe you should tell me what this is before I accept it."

"It's an obligation," said Mrs. Carmichael. "John Wick has decided that he owes you a favor. A very large favor." She nodded towards the silver disc in John Wick's hand. "That is a marker. A witness to the fact that he owes you a very great debt. One that can be repaid at any time when you see fit."

Shepard peered at the assassin. He'd never realized how dark the man's eyes were. "Why?" he whispered.

"Persephone," replied Wick. He gave a half-smile. "You took a bullet for her. I don't know if I could have handled losing her on top of everything else."

Shepard took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Fine. Are you a man of honor, Mr. Wick?"

The hard look in John Wick's eyes faltered a bit as he nodded.

"As it turns out, I am too. And so this doesn't matter. Hey, um, Jackson? Get that book out again."

The big man looked a little surprised, but did as instructed. Shepard snatched the marker from Wick's hand and snapped it open. He carefully slashed his thumb and pressed it into the other half of the marker's inside. Then he repeated the slashing and pressed his thumb below John Wick's signature. He signed next to his bloody thumbprint with a scrawl and handed the pen back to Jackson before turning to John Wick.

"Not like this," he said to the surprised assassin. "The marker is now repaid. But if you really feel like you owe me something, then you owe it. That feeling doesn't rely on magic rituals or Masonic crap. I've just freed you of any official obligation. But you know what I'm fighting, right?"

John Wick nodded without speaking.

"Good." Shepard waved a hand at the Continental in general. "Then you know why none of this matters. If I ever ask you to come running, then I expect you to show up with no questions asked. Is that clear?"

John Wick gave a full smile. "Very clear...Commander."