A/N: So this is my first jump back into writing in... quite some time. Think of this mostly as a companion to my upcoming re-telling of Andromeda, all of the little moments that I won't put in to the big documents while trying to plough through the major content. With that said, criticism is always welcome so long as it is constructive.

Disclaimer - Mass Effect: Andromeda is the property of Bioware and its affiliates. I own only my Ryders. Enjoy.

Moment I

Or, Rumination

Ruminate - verb (w/o object): To meditate or muse; ponder

Cryo was quiet. It wasn't quite a hub of activity (since the impact with the Murder Cloud, at least), but there was usually some noise, a bustle and quasi-vivacity about it as soon-to-be colonists were brought out of their frozen dreams. The pace had slowed down since contact with the unknown phenomenon, and then the "incident" on Habitat 7. Word had spread like wildfire. The Pathfinder was dead. All hail the Pathfinder.

No-one dared to disturb his successor.

Scott sat beside Sara's bed with his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. She'd been reposed with her hands clasped together just below her sternum, not a hair otherwise out of place. Had he not been able to discern the gentle rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought her dead. Things might well end that way, regardless. He'd need to remember to thank Doctor T'Perro for ensuring Sara's survival.

His frame expanded with his inhalation and shrank as the breath was expelled. What was he going to tell her? Dad, Hab 7, hell, Heleus in general; all of it FUBAR in ways that they couldn't yet comprehend. And Scott smack in the storm's eye. Infantile as it was, he railed against it all from behind his eyes. If only he had been quicker to realize the danger. If only he and Dad hadn't been standing in the way of the wave that launched them from the alien installation. If only he hadn't destroyed his helmet.

If only his father had lived.

The burn in his sockets surprised even Scott. Yes, he had wanted Ryder Senior to live. Despite the anger, the old and faded acceptance, all the absences, every justification Scott could conjure for hating his old man, Alec should be there with him. With them. Heleus was supposed to be a fresh start for all involved. Didn't that include an absentee father and his children? Had his father entertained the possibility of tabula rasa? Would they have even accepted him?

But he wasn't with them; alien machinery had cured an atmosphere and destroyed the remnants of a family. Mom was six-hundred years gone. And his sister, his twin, his best friend, maybe clinging by a thread. The doctors had been specific in their own way, but it was all Chinese to a man fluent in Latin. Another inhalation. Exhale. Breathe, Scott. Just keep breathing.

I could really use your company right now.

They were supposed to see Heleus together. Exploration. Discovery. First contact. Shenanigans. Now Sar would have to settle for stories and armor-cam footage. It was akin to ordering prime ribeye and getting rump roast. Though he doubted she'd have wanted to be around for Hab 7. Gods knew that he wouldn't enjoy relating the story. Still, Scott wanted her with him if only for a badly-needed dose of normality.

Adversor et admorsus.

The old Latin phrase, which had been an inspiration to him since his early Alliance days, came to mind unbidden. He lacked his father's training, both N7 and Initiative. None of the vision the old bastard had had. The Nexus an unknown, one golden world scrapped, his father dead, sister comatose, strange alien death cloud all around, a wounded Hyperion looking to him now, and a partridge in a pear tree.

He had Liam, Cora, and SAM. Plus himself. In short, everything he was getting.

Oppose and bite. More accurately in Scott's case, don't stop.

He'd had a shit hand dealt him, no two ways about it. But it was his, and he couldn't mope. It was going to hurt. It would probably get worse. It all might go up in smoke. But if he didn't do anything, it most certainly would. He wouldn't- couldn't- leave Sara to the mercies of a new galaxy where she woke up and he wasn't around, much less every other human colonist. The mere thought was monstrous.

A chirp from his omni alerted him to a new message. It was Cora. They were nearing the Nexus. His two hours of "rest" were up.

Scott closed his eyes, inhaled once, deeply, held the breath for two heartbeats, and then let it out. His mind clear, he looked up again. His sister, his best friend, still lay as statuesque as before. Neither a step forward nor back. Still alive and treading water, just like the rest of them.

Doc Carlyle came up as Scott was standing.

"Take care of her." Harry nodded.

"She's got my undivided attention, Scott. Go on." Scott. Not Pathfinder. Maybe the latter, but more importantly the former. People got caught up in titles too easily. The thought settled in his mind and drew a small, slightly crooked grin where his mouth was. He lay a hand over Sara's and squeezed gently.

"Stay alive." Then he nodded to Harry, gave his sister one final, inscrutable look, and walked out of Cryo.

The Pathfinder was needed.