CHAPTER 1

She couldn't believe it had already been two years. Two full years since the end of the War of the Reapers. So much had happened...

The devastation... had been catastrophic. It had only been a few months since the last Mass Relay had been repaired. It had taken almost all of those two years for the Citadel to be repaired, cleaned out, and readied to make the trip back to the Widow system. Two years... and Rosemary Fletcher still didn't know what to do with herself.

Rosemary Fletcher was the owner of a coffee shop famous for its dextro-based and non-dextro coffee and teas. Her mother, Rosamund Fletcher, had been the original owner of the shop - only, she had died during the Reaper invasion. Still, she had her father, and a younger brother, Oliver.

Since taking over ownership of Wakey Brews, the shop had become quite popular among the local human and turian population. She was a horrible baker, though. She knew that her regulars only bought her pastries to be polite. She took comfort in knowing that they cared.

She spent as much time as she could at work. Home... wasn't home anymore. Her father spent most of his days sitting at the kitchen table, staring at her mother's old office, a haunted, broken look in his eyes. That day, more than two years ago... had been the day she had lost both her parents.

After school, Oliver would stay at Wakey Brews until it was time for them to close shop and go home. Wakey Brews and the Fletcher family lived in Little Palaven, a turian town in southern Pennsylvania, near Philadelphia. The War had forced the Citadel's citizens to temporarily call Earth home, and Little Palaven was one of the hastily-built towns than the Citadel's turians had created. After the War, xenophobia had been at an all-time low on Earth. Something about the Reapers' attempt to destroy ALL organic life and Cerberus - the for-humans-only terrorists - ... terrorizing well, everyone, had opened the minds and eased the hate of many humans for aliens.

Personally, Rosemary had never had a problem with aliens. Despite never having gone off-planet in well, EVER, the aliens she had come in contact with had been decent folk. "It doesn't matter what part of they galaxy you're from. People are people", her mother used to say, ", and they come in three flavors: shitty, non-shitty, and shitty-lite". Rosemary had immortalized her mother's words of wisdom on a plaque on the wall behind the counter, and they brought smiles and barks of laughter from many a customer.

Rosemary loved her job, and she loved most of her customers - which was one of the three reasons she was bringing over two dozen free brews to the turian crews who hung out at one of the local parks, relaxing afer a hard day's work. There were hundreds of crews working tirelessly on the Citadel, but this crew was special... to her, anyway.

The second reason she made the weekly trip was Saeli, asari matriarch and friend, who did her work on a picnic table under one of the park's many orange trees. Rosemary didn't know much about her friend, only that she was in charge of coordinating the repairs on the Citadel. She did most of her work on her omni-tool, making calls and organizing work rosters. Rosemary had met her volunteering for body clean-up of the Citadel. Saeli had found her vomiting into a broken flower-pot after trying to move her first corpse. She hadn't been prepared for the gruesome reality of moving half-rotted corpses, but she had wanted, no, needed to help. She had a sturdy build, and was reasonably strong, so she had thought - why not? Why not, indeed.

Saeli T'Garu had taken pity on her and sent her to work on working with the medics, to help identify the bodies. She worked the terminals instead of bodies - which suited her just fine. Saeli had continued to check in on her, and soon they had become fast friends. Rosemary had lost her mother, and Saeli had lost her daughters, who had been Huntresses. Like most asari, Saeli was graceful, and her voice, deeply melodic. Her skin was a smooth, slate blue, and her flawless, patrician good-looks was marred only by a clean scar across her cheek. She once confessed to Rosemary to having vivid magenta tattoos in her maiden years.

Saeli was also a health nut. She politely declined the donut Rosemary offered, delicately shuddering. "All that sugar. It's revolting."

Rosemary shrugged and bit into the donut. "I didn't bake it, so it's not bad. Not enough icing."

The asari matriarch grimaced and turned off her omni-tool. "I will take your signature concoction, however."

Rosemary grinned and searched for her friend's regular drink in her cooler. She found it tucked in the corner, behind a couple of dextro lattes. "Low-sugar, skim milk, nearly non-existant chocolate syrup, and Irish Cream."

"No coffee," Saeli teased.

"That, too," Rosemary chuckled. "My signature creation - the Black Irishman."

"I don't get it."

"It's a humany joke," Rosemary said, smiling. "In your case though, it's Black Irishman-Lite."

"I didn't get that one either," Saeli said, sighing. "So, come to admire the view?"

Rosemary flushed, and cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed. Ah yes, the third reason why she made the trip. The view. On Tuesdays, the park was occupied by a turian working crew - and turian C-Sec snipers. They used a section of the park for target practice, and yes, Rosemary very much enjoyed watching them.

She knew it was creepy. She felt like the world's biggest sleazeball. But still, she watched. She couldn't help it. Turians were just so... hot.

It was a recent affliction. She had only encountered turians two years ago - and she had been smitten.

The attraction hadn't been physical - at first. She had always been the type of person to be attracted to personalities before appearances, but turians were physically... very different. Then she had gotten to know a few of them, male and female - and curiosity soon turned to admiration. At the young age of fifteen, all turians underwent military training. All the turians she had met, though not all honorable, still seemed to have a rigid sense of discipline. She admired that. Then admiration became attraction, at least in the case of turian males.
Rosemary sighed as she looked on at the turian snipers. They were close enough for her to hear snippets of their conversation, yet far enough for her to appear to not-be-watching-them-avidly.

Saeli found Rosemary's obsession quite amusing. But... she needed lessons in subtlety. Not wanting to tell her young friend how obvious she was being, she decided to distract her with something she had been meaning to tell her anyway. "I'm moving back to the Citadel."

That got Rosemary's attention. "What? Why?"

True, Saeli had lived on the Citadel until the Reapers had moved it, but she had been living in Little Palaven for almost two years now. Rosemary was suddenly very sad. Saeli was one of her dearest friends. Still, she tried not to let it show. "When will you be leaving."

"When the Citadel moves back to the Widow system. I still have about a week."

One of the snipers suddenly laughed, startling the two friends. "Ha! You shoot like a volus!"

A turian with red markings shook his head. "Don't listen to that racist ass, Rothus."

"I am not racist," the offended turian protested.

"Focus on your targets," the turian in charge barked. "That's some good shooting, Fortem," he praised the one who defended the one named Rothus.

Rosemary tried not to stare at the one called Fortem. Saeli saw where she was looking, and grinned.

"This isn't the first time you've looked at that one. Is he your favorite?"

"Maybe."

Saeli chuckled. "You are obsessed with turians, Rosemary."

"Oh yes, I am." Why deny the truth? "They have delicious, bone-tingling voices..."

"They're called subharmonics," Saeli said, her amber eyes sparkling with mirth. "So what's drawing you to that one?"

Rosemary sighed and shrugged. "His plates are smooth, dark - his red markings are nice, too... The horns on his crest are so... You know? They're thick, with a sexy curve to them... And have you heard his voice? It's pure sex."

Saeli laughed, delighted by Rosemary's honesty. "You've been eyeing him for a while, then? What does your father think?"

Just like that, Rosemary's mood darkened. "He... doesn't really care." About anything, she thought sadly. Determined not to think about it, she continued, "Besides, not many turians go for humans. We're too 'squishy', apparently."

"Who told you that?"

"Gravrak."

Saeli made a face. "Gravrak? You listen to that krogan? Rosemary, the only beings that male finds attractive is his reflection and rocks."

Rosemary giggled, drawing the attention of the snipers. Rosemary blushed and turned her head. Feeling mischievous, Saeli leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "His name's Balint. Balint Fortem."