Rating: M for violence, as well as adult themes.

Pairing: f!Shepard/Thane; f!Shepard/Garrus

Beta: My eternal gratitude to anonymous moose and K; working with you both is truly an abundance of riches. Thank you.

A/N: Follows Abstracted (see my profile, shameless plug), but can be read without. Assumes 'Arrival' and 'Lair of the Shadow Broker' have been completed.

Warnings: -story spoilers- -skip this part if you don't want to know- -very big spoilers- Major character death, torture of minor characters, implied past/off-screen non-con.

Graded Absolutism

Prologue:

In spring, when the winds shift and bring the Soft Rains, Kahje is a place of rumors. Of murmured tales, told to the melody of rain against glass and tin. Of half-truths whispered into another's ear, while beyond the pale dunes, salt spray is teased from endless waves. As surely as the tide advances and retreats, in spring, stories are told of light and despair, of love and sorrow.

The most fanciful of these is of the Nameless, who some say arrive each year with the Rains. All things must go to the sea, yet these specters of the past are said to defy even Kalihira herself. Ghosts or phantoms or faded memories, they return only to stand ever-silent at the shore, watching as the ocean continues its eternal advance.

.

1.

He seldom makes mistakes, is rarely flat-out wrong. But when he is, the resulting outcomes are... undeniably spectacular.

At least this is what the Illusive Man thinks, indulging in a moment of black humor.

He plays the holo-vid again.

In the month following Shepard's defection, how many times has he played the vid? Dozens? More? Playing it forward, backing it up. Freezing specific moments in time.

He mutes the audio and watches the exchange between himself and Shepard again, sees her roll her eyes like a spoiled child as she arms the nuclear device and cuts communications.

The holo skips, cuts from the omni-tool recording to one of the Normandy's exterior cameras. The Collector base explodes again in nova of white-hot light.

He raises a hand, stopping the holo mid-explosion. The end of his cigarette glows red as he draws smoke into his lungs, then taps the cigarette on the ashtray at his elbow. Ash and embers fall, points of light burning out like a fistful of dying stars.

Eyes still on the holo, he activates the interface, opening a line to his assistant.

"Do we have a current status on the team locating Miss Chambers and her sister?"

There's a slight pause; he hears the muted ping of a display being activated.

"Yes sir." Another pause. "They report successful extraction, ETA twenty standard hours."

He nods. The team has exceeded his expectations. He had anticipated more difficulty in reacquiring Chambers, if not her sister. Apparently, not all of his former employees were as capable at vanishing as Miss Lawson.

"I trust you stressed they are to be treated as guests, with the respect due that status," he says.

"Absolutely, sir."

"Good." A ribbon of smoke drifts up, unspooling as it dissipates in front of the frozen image of the base. "And the data we acquired from the salarians?"

"Technicians are still deciphering it sir, but it looks promising."

"Hm." Another slow inhale of smoke. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, of course, sir."

He terminates the connection and resumes the vid. The light of the explosion flares once more and his artificial retinas contract in response.

Shepard was one of his mistakes. A spectacular mistake. One which cost billions of credits. A person could argue Shepard owed Cerberus a significant debt.

He stubs the cigarette out and allows himself another self-indulgent moment.

"Time to pay up, Shepard."