Shepard's undersuit was growing sweaty against her skin as she exited the elevator to the engineering deck, but she hardly even paid it any mind as she turned down the hall, making her way towards the nursery, eager to see her son. What had once been Javik's private quarters had been remodelled since the Prothean's leave from the Normandy, and had instead been converted into a playroom wing, complete with padded flooring and walls and an oxygen filtration system that kept fresh, clean air circulating through the room at all times. The door to the playroom was unlocked as Shepard approached, the holo-lock shining bright green across its face, and she could not help but feel a bit disconcerted as she crossed the weight sensor to peer into the room, checking for some sign of David or Traynor, only to find none there. David's mobile of the Sol system still hung over his learning corner, his colouring book still open on the floor, but neither David nor his teacher were anywhere to be found, and so, frowning a bit, Shepard turned to leave the room again, returning to the elevator and selecting the next floor up to see if perhaps they had taken a break for lunch.

Shepard clenched and unclenched her armoured hand as she waited for the elevator to go up one floor, hoping that her yeoman and son were simply eating, and that there had not been some horrible medical emergency while she had been away. However, when she finally arrived on the third-floor crew deck, she found the mess hall to be nearly empty, save for Gardner still working idly at his kitchen station, peeling what looked to be a potato. Gardner looked up as he heard Shepard approaching, the falls of her armour boots heavy against the metal flooring, but gave her only a quick once-over before letting out a short, unsurprised grunt of greeting. "You okay there, Commander?" he asked, intuitive, peeling a sliver of potato skin onto the preparation counter. "You look a bit… frazzled."

"Looking for David," Shepard answered, shortly, coming to stand beside the counter as well. "Did you see him or Traynor come through here? Maybe?"

Pausing momentarily in his peeling, Garner thought for a moment, his thumb trailing along the edge of his peeling knife as he considered her question. Then, letting out another short, contemplative grunt, he shook his head, returning his attention to his potato, before letting out a short, sharp huff of breath. "Can't say I've seen them recently," he answered, honestly. "'Least, not since they came through to drop this off for sanitization." Setting the potato down then, he reached to the far edge of the preparation station, picking up a translucent pacifier and sliding it across the counter, setting it down within easy reach. "Said they dropped it on the floor or something," he added, picking up the potato again. "Couldn't let the little tyke put it back in his mouth. Germs. Last I heard they were headed up to the navigation deck to look at the starmap." Peeling another sliver of skin from the potato, he gave a light sniff, shrugging one shoulder. "Would've thought they'd be back by now," he added. "Pacifier's clean."

"Thanks, Gardner," Shepard told him, appreciatively, reaching out to pat him on the arm. Then, picking up the pacifier, she turned it over distractedly between her fingers, before turning to head back towards the central elevator and pressing the button to take her up to the second-floor navigation deck.

The navigation deck was almost as quiet as the crew deck when she arrived, the gentle beeping of the starmap computer stations broken only by the whispers of Traynor and David at the head of the map display, looking out over the holographic spread of the Milky Way galaxy. David's stuffed elcor plush dangled absentmindedly from his hand as he looked out over the starmap in wonder, the stitched button hinging of the toy's front legs starting to come loose from overuse and play. Shepard had made the elcor herself while David had still been a tiny infant, and while she had never been particularly artistic, it had been a calming mechanism, something to keep her hands busy during the first few weeks he had spent in the Bubble, unable to be taken out and held for more than a few minutes at a time while his immune system developed into infancy. The elcor plush was lumpy and lopsided, its stuffing hugged and washed into disrepair, with mismatched button eyes, the result of David chewing one of them off when he had begun teething, only to have it replaced by a larger, differently-shaped button, one that did not look quite right. David did not seem to mind the crudeness of the toy, however, and had instead proudly named it Nexus, declaring it a Spectre and keeping it with him wherever he went.

Now, neither David nor Traynor seemed to notice as Shepard came to stand behind them at the stairs, trying to listen in on what Traynor was saying as she pointed to the bright spot of the Exodus cluster. "This is where we are right now," Traynor told David. "But as soon as your mummie gets back, we'll be going to that system – over there." Having said this, she took David's free hand, steering his pointed finger in the direction of the Serpent Nebula. "It's very far away, you see?" she added, cheerfully, letting go of his hand to point to the system, herself. "So we need her help to get there."

David frowned a bit as he looked between the two systems, trying to figure out how such an excursion was possible, before turning around to look at Traynor directly, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. "That doesn't seem very far," he told her, sceptically. "It's just right there."

Traynor laughed at this observation, pulling David in for a warm, fond hug. Then, taking his little hand in hers, she turned away from the starmap, starting to lead him down the stairs, only to be surprised to see Shepard standing at the foot of them, waiting for them to notice her. Shepard watched with doting amusement as Traynor led David down the stairs of the starmap station towards his mother, his socked feet barely audible against the floor as he held onto her hand tightly with one of his, obediently. "Commander, the payment from your last job has been received and processed," Traynor reported, coming to stand in front of Shepard, her hand tightening reassuringly around David's much smaller one as he came to stand beside her. "The forms for the Eezo have been submitted and are going through as we speak."

"Excellent," Shepard returned, quickly, offering her an attentive nod of thanks. "And how much funding do we have left over after the Eezo costs?"

"Just enough to afford our budgeted food and formula, Commander," Traynor answered, glancing down towards David to make sure he was not putting his stuffed elcor anywhere near his mouth. "I've got the calculations drawn up, if you'd like to take a look. I've budgeted our next projected trip as well, based previous missions, and I've also put in a clearance request for the Exodus relay. We should be able to pass through in a few hours' time."

"Perfect," Shepard commended, enthusiastically. "You're the best, Traynor. That should give us just enough time to hit the local fuel depot and make it back in time for our relay." Then, turning her attention to David instead, she stooped down to his level, picking him up under the arms and lifting him up to rest against her hip. He was quick to let go of Traynor's hand at his mother's provocation, instead using his arms to wrap possessively around her neck, causing the bulk of the elcor plush to bump against the side of her helmet as he snuggled in to her armoured side. Shepard did not even seem to notice as she looked up towards Traynor again, adjusting her son more comfortably against her hip before depositing the pacifier into Traynor's now-empty hand. "Hold onto that," she told her, forwardly. "He might need it later. In the meantime, I'm going to go get changed and feed him. Inform me if anything urgent comes up."

"Will do, Commander," Traynor agreed, starting to salute again, before remembering she was not supposed to and nodding instead, balling her hand into a fist and tucking it behind her back.

Nodding in return to Traynor's gesture, Shepard turned away from the yeoman, instead starting to make her way towards the central Normandy elevator. David smiled as he peered into his mirrored reflection in the visor of her helmet, pressing a curious finger against the plexiglass, before taking it away again and letting out a soft, conspiratorial giggle at the imprint of his fingertip against the shiny surface. "You are a suit," he announced, proudly, kicking his chubby legs as she carried him into the elevator, leaning down to press the button to take them up to the captain's cabin. "Your head is a helmet. But it comes off. And then your head is a head." The elevator gave a faint rattle, causing him to look up suddenly, seeming entirely unperturbed by the noise as he listened to the elevator humming gently, making its way towards the top of the ship. Then, finally arriving on the cabin floor, the doors of the elevator opened with a soft hiss, allowing Shepard to exit the lift towards the captain's quarters, making her way past the weight-sensitive doors to the far end of the room.

Setting David down at the foot of the bed, she watched as he slid himself off again, leaving his elcor plush behind, his little socked feet making muffled padding noises as he made his way over to the fish tank to check on the fish. Pressing his hands against the glass, he watched the fish swim lazily around in the illuminated water, holding his breath and puffing out his cheeks to imitate one of their funny faces. "Don't keep your face like that for too long," Shepard warned, opening up her armour cabinet and taking a look inside. "You don't want it to get stuck that way." Then, unlatching her helmet from the back of her neck protector, she let out a heavy sigh, shaking out her shaggy, matted hair, before setting the helmet aside on the bed and starting to unlatch her shoulder-guards, preparing to remove them as well.

Letting the air out of his cheeks, David turned away from the tank again, making his way back over towards the bed to watch in silent fascination as she began to remove her armour. It was a process he had seen a dozen times before, but one he never seemed to grow tired of, and as she removed her shoulder-guards, setting them down on the bed next to her helmet, she watched as he looked between the guards and her shoulders, trying to reason that they had once been one. The first time David had seen her in her armour, he had thought that the suit had replaced his mother, either by eating her or simply supplanting her, as she was no longer around when the armour was. He seemed incapable of equating that the armour was something that could be put on and taken off, and could not figure out why the armour sounded like his mother, but not exactly. He had also started to cry bitterly when she had taken off her helmet, thinking that the scary armour person was taking its head off, but had since thankfully gotten much better at realizing that when one head came off, another replaced it, and no harmed seemed to be done in the process. Chakwas had explained this inability to conceptualize the armour and Shepard as one in the same as a form of object permanence, something he would eventually grow out of the longer she allowed him to witness the concept that the armour was actually just his mother, and vice-versa.

Now, he seemed fascinated by the process, his cat-like lips pursing in a small, taut pout as his dark brows furrowed in concentration. Shepard figured he was probably trying to figure out how the individual pieces fit together, but she also knew that his brain worked in such a way that whenever each piece came off, it became something else entirely – no longer one part of a whole, but merely an isolated, castaway part with no association. Chakwas had called it dyspraxia, manifesting in the inability to recognize sequential objects or ideas being successive parts of a whole concept, and had recommended this stripping-down ritual as an exercise in brain development, one specifically geared towards David's particular learning needs. Shepard had figured it was harmless enough for him to see her in her undersuit when he was still so young, as there was nothing inherently sexual about a garment meant simply for protection, especially one that looked, functionally, like a diving suit. Even so, she knew that she would likely have to start phasing him out of such practices as he got a bit older, closer to age five or so.

David blinked as he watched Shepard pull off her foream-guards, setting them aside on the bed next to her helmet and shoulder-guards, and she could not help but wonder what was going on in his head as he watched her remove her suit and set it aside on the bed in pieces, his little face screwing up in intense concentration. He stared at the pieces another moment longer, seeming to be considering them, before finally reaching over and picking up the helmet, turning it to one side, admiring the way the light reflected in the visor. "I like your suit," he told her, looking up at her again, rolling her helmet thoughtfully between his tiny, clawed hands. "Will I get a suit someday? When I'm big and grown, like you?"

Turning to look down at him at the question, Shepard paused in removing her upper-arm guards, instead reaching over to take hold of the helmet and setting it aside on the bed once more. "How do you know you'll even want one when you're older?" she asked, returning to removing the guards on her arms and setting them aside on the bed as well. She had no issue with David handling her gear, but she did not want him trying to put her helmet on and getting his sensitive ears or fragile downy hair caught in the tight crevices. "For all you know, you might want to be a scientist when you're older. Like Doctor T'Soni. Or maybe you'll want to be a doctor, like Doctor Chakwas."

"Why are they both called Doctor?" David asked, pulling himself strenuously up onto the mattress to sit on the edge of the bed, letting his legs dangle over the side as he watched his mother continue pulling off her mission gear. "Is there only so many names? Why not Scientist? Scientist T'Soni."

"Youuu are too smart for your own good, Mister," Shepard teased him, turning around to tickle her son under the arms. David shrieked with laugher, rolling onto his back to ward her off, flailing his chubby arms and legs in the air as she lifted his shirt to press a raspberry against his exposed stomach. Then, just as quickly as the fun had started, it ended, as David began to suddenly cough, his blue eyes growing wide as his hand reached to his chest, gripping his shirt, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for air. Thinking quickly, Shepard picked him up, turning him over onto his front and starting to rub soft, soothing circles into his back, waiting for him to slowly stop wheezing as he fought to catch his breath. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the heavy breathing began to desist, and Shepard let out a sigh of relief, tucking her frazzled bangs behind her ears as she sat down on the bed beside her son, letting her head drop tiredly into her free hand as her other continued to rub his back, reassuringly. David coughed, quietly, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, before looking over towards his mother, guiltily, and starting to crawl the short distance across the bed until he sat beside her, lifting her arm to let him snuggle in underneath.

"I'm sorry, Mama," David pleaded, looking up at her, pulling her arm back in around his waist until it encircled his little form. "It was a accident. I won't do it again. I promise."

"David," Shepard frowned, looking down towards her boy. Pulling him up into her lap, she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, wrapping her arms around his form as she rested her chin in his hair, letting out another soft, weary sigh as she stared at her open gear closet. "You know this isn't your fault," she told him, seriously. "It never has been. Please stop apologizing for it. You make me feel, it… it makes me feel like…" She paused again, closing her eyes, letting out another soft, weary huff of breath, trying to construct her sentence before letting it leave her lips. Chakwas had warned her that she had to learn how to form sentences that laid no blame for any actions done, or else David would find some way to make everything she said his fault. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she finally told him, quietly, pressing another gentle kiss to his head before letting her chin settle back down amid his dark, fluffy down once more. "Things like these… they happen. Without reason. There is no one to blame. It's just… life. Life happens. Nobody can control it. And that is nobody's fault. Least of all yours."

"But it's my body," David argued, making a face as he turned to look up towards his mother again, confused. "Isn't it my fault?"

Shepard sighed again, twisting her fingers around each other as she thought, before finally shaking her head and sliding her hands under her son's arms, lifting him off her lap and onto the bed beside her again. "We'll talk about this some more later, okay?" she told him, standing up from the bed again. "In the meantime, aren't you hungry? Let's get this armour off and get you something to eat, how's that sound?"

David faltered at the suggestion, seeming for a moment torn between guilt and hunger, before finally allowing a warm, eager little smile to brighten his face and sliding himself to the edge of the bed again, letting his legs dangle over the side as he watched her finish removing her armour. With her armour off and safely stored in its appropriate drawers and displays, Shepard next made her way to the bathroom of her cabin to take off her undersuit, emerging a few minutes later dressed in her casual pants and white undershirt. Pulling her hair into a haphazard ponytail, she grabbed her hoodie off the back of her desk chair, pulling the jacket on over her shoulders and zipping it up half-attentively before moving to scoop up her son from where he stood staring in fascination up at her model ship display. David had always been captivated by her collection, from the time he could look up and see it, but had never been allowed to touch it for fear he might break something irreplaceable. With the War over and businesses thrown into chaos, production of collector's items like model ships had been cut abruptly short, leaving Shepard with nothing but memories and an assortment of mint-condition ships, some still in their boxes, that she had been told was now worth a small fortune. She figured if it really came down to it, she could sell the ships to keep afloat, but she did not want to think about that possibility, as the ships were all she had left to remind her of the good times she had had serving with the Alliance.

Chakwas was already in the mess hall by the time Shepard arrived, and she looked up in interest as the Commander entered, crossing to the cabinets and pulling out a sealed glass vial of what looked to be watery, greyish milk. Setting the formula down on the preparation counter, she set David down on the counter beside it, turning back to the steam-washer and pulling out a silver, cylindrical thermos. Then, prying open the lid of the vial, she poured the liquid inside the thermos, screwing the rubber-ringed lid on as tightly as she could before giving it a good, evening shake. David watched in anticipation as his formula was being made, before holding his hands out eagerly for the thermos as Shepard picked him up from the counter again. Making her way to the mess hall table, Shepard sat down across from Chakwas, stretching her legs out in front of her as she let out a long, tired sigh, before looking over towards the doctor and offering her a thin, wan smile. "I think I'm gonna need a hot pad," she told her. "Bruised my ribcage something fierce tackling this batarian trader today. Not that he wasn't asking for it, but… banged my side up pretty good."

"Are you certain you didn't break anything?" Chakwas asked, warily, looking up from her plate again.

Shepard shrugged, reaching across the table to pick a piece of fruit off of Chakwas' plate, before bringing it back to her own mouth, ignoring the playfully scolding look she was getting from the doctor at the motion. "Only a few of their noses," she answered, cheekily, talking around her bite of fruit. "Nothing a police physician can't fix."

"You're being awfully flippant about this," Chakwas told her, distractedly pushing a few pieces of fruit around on her plate with her fork. Then, looking up at Shepard again, she set her fork down, frowning a bit. "You really should be more careful, Shepard," she scolded, gently, giving a soft sigh. "You could seriously hurt yourself on one of those missions. You don't always have to be so rough, you know."

Shepard frowned at this, taken aback, finishing her bite and swallowing. "I'm only as rough as I have to be," she answered, frankly, shaking her head. "It's no different than when we were in the Alliance. I just do what I need to do to get the job done."

"The only difference being that you've got a bit more to think about now than you had then," Chakwas reminded her, nodding her head indicatively towards David, causing Shepard to look down at her boy in turn. "Other than that, I agree completely. You've done nothing but good work, Shepard, but I only wish you would be more careful. You're all he's got in this world, after all. Where would he be without you?" Shepard faltered, realizing she was right, before reaching down to shift her son more comfortably in her lap, giving him a light, reassuring bounce of her knee as he continued to drink from his bottle, listening intently to the conversation. His bright blue eyes moved between each woman as he drank, waiting for one of them to speak up next, and Chakwas sighed again as she observed him, leaning an elbow on the table and resting her chin on top of her hand as she watched him suckle down on his formula. "You know… he can't grow and develop in a healthy manner without some sort of solid food," she suddenly told Shepard, letting out a soft, worried exhale. "He's three years old, you know. It's about time you started training him to eat something other than quarian formula."

Shepard sighed at this suggestion, petting back David's shaggy bangs, before shaking her head and looking up again, allowing him to continue drinking his formula. "You know I can't do that," she said, frowning. "David… he's not like other children. He's got that cyclic… vomiting… thing, he does, that's brought on by stress, and an anxiety disorder that causes him to stress about everything. All I'm concerned about right now is getting him something that goes down easy and isn't unpleasant coming back up." Turning her attention back to David, she watched as he suckled down on his bottle, his blue eyes watching her, observant, seeming to be taking in more than she thought he could understand. "When he's a little bit older, maybe we can see about medication," she added, tilting the bottle upward a little, causing him to give a short snuffle through his nose, trying to catch up with the stream. "But I just… I can't take that risk right now. He has a hard enough time processing the weekly vitamins you give him, and those are as basic as you can get."

Chakwas frowned at this argument, her thin brow furrowing into a hard, worried line, before folding her hands anxiously in her lap, watching the toddler suckle down on his bottle of formula. "I know your intentions are good, Shepard," she finally said, causing Shepard to look up at her again, a faint frown creasing her brow at the tentative lead-in. "But if he keeps eating nothing but that… he's never going to be able to stomach other foods when he gets older. His body and digestive system are going to get accustomed to a standard of gentle filtration that nothing else can compete with, and he won't be able to process anything else later on in life." Looking up at Shepard then, Chakwas took in a deep, thoughtful breath, twisting her hands subconsciously together in front of her as she prepared to go on. "How would it be to be twenty years old and still drinking nothing but quarian-filtrated nutrient formula?" she asked, knowingly, causing Shepard's frown to deepen at the thought. "At this rate, he'll never grow up healthy and strong, no matter how much formula you feed him. There simply aren't enough calories in formula to keep up with a growing boy. He'll be emaciated all throughout childhood, and likely on a nutrient drip before the age of twenty."

"And what am I supposed to do, Karin?" Shepard asked, frustrated, though she could not help a bit of concern from showing through at the bleak prognosis. "Shovel solid food down his throat and wait until something sticks? The last time I tried to give him something solid, he threw it up and then cried for an hour because it hurt so badly. I don't know how to help him keep it down, and I don't want to subject him to that again." Turning her attention back to her son, she let out another soft, regretful sigh, bouncing him faintly with her knee as he watched her with rapt, attentive eyes. She paused, considering him, watching him drink, before offering him a soft, sad smile, shifting him more comfortably against her arm as he snuggled up close to her, affectionate and warm. "He'll be fine for now," she said, shaking her head, before petting his downy bangs back from his face. "We'll figure something out a little later on, but… not now. There's too many things changing right now as it is. I don't want to overwhelm him."

"I'm not sure he's the one worried about being overwhelmed," Chakwas answered, knowingly, causing Shepard to look up again in surprise. Shrugging her shoulders, Chakwas pushed herself up from her seat, letting out a soft grunt of effort as she straightened to her full, slender posture, before turning to look back at Shepard again, folding her hands thoughtfully in front of her as she did so. "I'm only saying what I can observe," she told her, frankly, her tone medical and impassive, though Shepard could not help but note a faint hint of acuity. "So I may be incorrect… but is he really the one worried about him growing up and things changing, or are you?" Pausing another moment, she let the telling question sink in, before turning her attention down from Shepard, taking in another thin, thoughtful breath as she began to distractedly fix the cuff of her medbay uniform. "Think about it, Shepard," she told her, intentionally not looking up at her as she spoke. "Don't let your distaste for change blind you to what you need to do. Things change. Children grow up. It's all a part of life. Sometimes it can be harder than other times, but…"

Finished fiddling with her cuff, Chakwas looked up towards Shepard again, her kindly blue eyes notably knowing as she let her hands fold pensively in front of her again, raising her thin, pencilled brows. "Don't pretend you don't need help when you do," she told her, candidly. "Your child's well-being is more important than your pride." Having said this, she glanced towards David, who stared back at her, silently curious, continuing to suckle on his bottle as he watched her, waiting for her to say something he could understand. She paused, considering him, before offering him a fond smile and turning her attention back to Shepard with a soft, tired hum of an exhale. "Well, I should be returning to my duties," she told her, starting to turn in the direction of her office again. "I'll be in the medbay if you need me for anything. You're welcome to finish that fruit if you want it. Oh, and Shepard—" Turning around again, she raised a hand, causing Shepard to look up at her, attentive, pausing in pulling the plate of sliced fruit across the table towards her. "Don't mistake my advice for criticism," Chakwas told her, honestly. "I think you're a wonderful mother, for what it's worth."

Shepard faltered, surprised by her words, before a small, crooked, appreciative half-smile began to creep across her face in response. "Thanks, Karin," she told her, quietly. "That… means a lot, coming from you."

"It's what I'm here for," Chakwas assured her, offering a motherly smile in return. "And don't forget to put that dish in the sink when you're done. I don't want Gardner coming after me again like last time."

"Yes, ma'am," Shepard chuckled, still smiling, before turning her attention to her food once more. Taking a bite of strawberry, she looked down towards David, who was watching her with interest as she chewed, his suckling slowing as he reached the end of his formula. "Everybody's always bossing me around," Shepard teased, finishing her bite and swallowing, before setting down her fork again to pet back his downy hair from his face. "Thank goodness I've got you to listen to me. Otherwise I don't know what I'd do." Leaning down to him then, she pressed a soft kiss against his forehead, causing him to huff with warm laughter, the edges of his eyes pinching in a fond, appreciative smile. "Don't grow up too fast, okay?" she told him, quietly, bouncing him gently against her knee. "And don't get too much taller. The last thing I need is one more person telling me what to do."


The vidcomm display flashed yellow as it waited for the signal to Palaven to connect, the three white dots in the middle of the screen repeating their pattern over and over as Shepard waited for Garrus to pick up. Leaning back in her comfortable desk chair, she drummed her fingers impatiently against the armrest, her gaze straying ever so often to the arrangement of ships above her desk, lingering on the turian frigate, before returning to rest on the vidcomm display. Finally, the signal gave a hiccupping beep, and a moment later the screen flickered to a well-lit room, with Garrus sitting expectantly in front of his desk, his elbows rigid with excitement against the arms of his chair as he smiled warmly out at her from the other end of the connection. "Glad I caught the call in time," he told her, giving a soft, relieved little huff of a laugh. "Almost missed it. Had an incident at work today that caused me to run a little late." Raising his hands then, he shook his head, stopping her before she could worry about him. "Nothing to fret over," he assured her, quickly. "Just a small electricity issue in the mine. The main lighting generator blew a fuse or something. The miners got to go home early, but we stayed behind until the place was safe to work in again."

"Since when does a Reaper advisor work anywhere near a mine?" Shepard asked, raising a brow, inquisitive.

Garrus shrugged, shaking his head again, before dropping his hands back to his chair and letting out his breath in a soft, sharp exhale. "It seems my job as 'Reaper Advisor' has grown to include everything connected to the rebuild after the War," he explained, seeming less than certain of the details, himself. "Victus has been slowly putting together an entire economic council, so I'm not alone, thankfully, but… since I'm the highest ranking of them, they always expect me to be the one to actually go out and ensure the problems are fixed. Authority gets results, I guess. It's not a bad job, just… intense." Pausing then, he leaned back in his chair, offering her a faint, apologetic smirk. "That's why they pay me the big bucks, I guess," he joked, weakly. "But – I haven't even asked you how you're doing. How have you been getting along since the last time we spoke, Shepard? Okay, I hope?"

Shepard exhaled at the question, crossing her arms thoughtfully over her chest, before giving a short, dismissive shrug of one shoulder. "Tired," she answered, honestly. "Which is pretty much to be expected, I guess."

"Tired?" Garrus repeated, leaning forward a bit in his chair towards her. "Hm. Why don't you take some time off, if you're tired? Come swing by Palaven. See how things are doing around here."

At this, Shepard snorted, softly, shaking her head as she slid a bit lower in her chair, letting her legs stretch out comfortably in front of her. "I don't have the time or resources to take time off," she told him, frankly. "I'm stretched thin enough as it is with my schedule. I can barely find time to sleep around here, let alone… leisure time."

Garrus grunted at this bleak dismissal, his plated brow furrowing into a worried frown. "Aren't you still a Spectre?" he asked, curiously. "Last I checked, Spectres could do whatever they wanted. Make their own schedules. Pretty sure they even got paid by the Council for doing it."

"The Council doesn't pay me anymore," Shepard answered, truthfully, shaking her head. "I'm just your average mercenary these days. I try to do good work when I can, but… mostly it's just somebody giving me a job to do and me doing it." Pausing then, she considered a moment, chewing on the inside of her lip as she thought. "I mean – I'm still technically on the Council's payroll," she amended, looking up again before Garrus could question her. "But the Spectre program has been basically inactive for a while. Every so often they'll throw a bone my way, but it's usually something small, just to make sure I'm still around."

"Well, I could always tell the Council there's been trouble on Palaven," Garrus offered, a small, telling, puckish smile starting to creep across his eager face. "Maybe you could come investigate. Figure out who's… been being bad around here."

"Crime is no joke, citizen," Shepard returned, smirking, barely able to keep from laughing at the blatantness of his invitation. "The Council isn't likely to fall for something so obvious anyway. Maybe if you told them you found leftover Reapertech they'd be more likely to send someone to investigate."

"Ah, yes," Garrus agreed, his playful smile widening, before holding up both hands to make sarcastic, one-fingered air quotes. "Reapertech." Then, letting his hands fall back to his desk, he let out a soft, warm chuckle, turning his gaze downward for a moment before looking back up at her again, affectionately. "I really do miss you a lot, you know," he told her, letting out a soft, honest sigh. "It's been too long since I've gotten to see you. Or talk to you, or… touch you. Anywhere."

"We'll get to see each other again soon enough," Shepard assured him, leaning forward towards him across the desk. "And… maybe we can even do some touching while we're at it. If you play your cards right, that is."

"Mm, well," Garrus answered, his smile widening again, giving another deep, shameless chuckle. "You just tell me what cards to play and I'll see what I can do. Maybe we can start with… a bit of strip poker, then move on to a… two card split… play a bit on the rail, and then… maybe, if you're up for it, I'll beat your pair with my straight. All culminating in an… utterly satisfying royal flush. If we're lucky."

Shepard faltered, unsure how to respond, her incredulous smile twisting into a look of amused disbelief as she let the string of innuendos sink in for a moment longer. "Wow," she finally said. "That was… really bad. Amazingly, though, you actually had me going right up until the royal flush."

"Ah," Garrus answered, leaning back in his seat again with a long, entertained exhale. "Damn. Have to work on my human gambling expressions. Unfortunately, I don't think turian card terms would have quite the same effect."

"You never know," Shepard returned, honestly, giving another short, fond chuckle as she stared at him. "Anything has to be better than a royal flush."

"That one was pretty bad, wasn't it?" Garrus asked, smirking again, turning his blue gaze downward, sheepishly. "Would have been better if I'd used that term for your parts. There just wasn't any other term coming to mind that seemed really fitting for an orgas—" Just then, he stopped short, looking up at something over her shoulder, and Shepard turned, glancing back as well, trying to see what he was looking at. The door of her cabin had slid open while they had been talking, seemingly of its own accord, but as Shepard looked down, she noticed that David had already crossed the room to her from the door, his socked feet silent against the floor, making his presence nearly imperceptible. He now stood beside her chair at her desk, smiling up at her expectantly as he pressed both hands against her thigh, before pulling eagerly on her pants leg, lifting his arms up to signify for her to lift him up into her lap.

"Talk to Daddy," David insisted, breathlessly, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, staring imploringly up at her with eager, bright blue eyes. "Done with my lesson – want to see Daddy! Let me talk to Daddy, please!"

"Okay, okay," Shepard laughed, leaning down to pick him up under the arms and heaving him easily up into her lap. Letting him get settled with his stubby legs sprawled open across her thighs, she reached across her desk to pick up a coiled clip and wire from within a sterile glass container, turning the little microphone attached to the clip and wire on and waiting for the activation light to appear before gingerly starting to hook the device into David's ear. Making sure the translator was attached properly and not too tight against edge of his ear-spine, Shepard turned her attention back to Garrus again, distractedly petting David's dark flyaway hair down and grooming him a bit as Garrus smiled out at his little boy from the holoscreen. In return, David gave a gleeful laugh, pressing his hands on either side of the holo-keypad as he leaned in eagerly forward towards the vidscreen, beaming.

"Daddy!" David smiled, starting to pant excitedly as he watched Garrus waving back at him from the other side of the vidscreen.

"Hey, little man," Garrus returned, giving a soft, adoring chuckle at his son's enthusiasm. "Long time no see. How have you been holding up?"

"Why don't you tell Daddy what you've been learning?" Shepard suggested, quickly turning the subject away from David's health. She did not want to lie to Garrus, but she also did not want to upset David unreasonably by bringing up his medical issues when he was trying to have a pleasant conversation. Pressing a soft, quick kiss to the top of David's head, she smiled down at him before pointing towards the picture of Garrus on the screen once more. "Tell him what Miss Traynor has been teaching you," she told him. "Tell him what you've been learning about in your lessons these past few weeks."

David paused at this, thinking a moment, his gleeful expression fading faintly in concentration as he tried hard to remember his lessons through his exhilaration. Then, turning his blue gaze back to Garrus again, the bright smile returned to his face as he took another few sharp, excited breaths in. "Daddy, I'm learning the Sol planets," he informed his father, proudly, puffing up his small chest as he beamed through the vid receiver. "Miss Traynor is teaching me. Want to hear some planets?"

"He can only name a couple," Shepard added, explaining quietly over David's head. "He has a hard time memorizing things, but… he's working on it. He's getting better. If he keeps this up, soon he might even be able to name them all."

"That's great, David," Garrus returned, addressing his son, his upbeat tone sounding suddenly somewhat forced, and Shepard could not help but frown a bit at the faintly icy edge his voice had taken on, despite his attempt to sound genial and supportive. "And what have you learned about the Trebia System? Can you name any of the planets from the Apien Crest?"

"That was going to be next week's lesson," Shepard cut in, quickly, causing David to look up at her, his brow furrowed in innocent confusion. "This week he was learning about the Sol System. We figured it was probably the easiest one to learn about. One sun, one planet supporting life."

Garrus looked up at her at this, unable to keep a sharp look of scepticism from fleeting across his face before he quickly cleared it again, trying to stay congenial. "Only one planet capable of supporting life?" he asked, his interest clearly forced. "So you weren't going to teach him about Lunar Base or the Mars Archives? Or was that next week's lesson, too?"

"Okay, David," Shepard sighed, sliding her hands under her son's arms again. "I think you've talked to Daddy long enough for today. Time for you to go." Picking David up off her lap, she settled him back on his feet on the floor, gently detaching the translator from his ear before turning him towards the door of the cabin and giving him a light pat on the back, indicating for him to run along. David frowned at the sudden dismissal, looking confused as he glanced back towards her and the vidscreen, lingering in place, as if unsure if she were being serious.

"But I didn't get to tell him the planets," David contended, barely above a hoarse whisper.

Letting out a short, soft sigh at the sadness in his voice, Shepard leaned down to her son, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder and pointing towards the door of the cabin again. "Why don't you head down to Mister Gardner and see if he'll make you a snack?" she suggested, trying hard to sound as patient as possible, knowing full well that Garrus was still watching them. "I'm sure he's got something yummy for you. Why don't you go down and ask him?" David hesitated again, fidgeting uncertainly with his hands, his blue gaze flicking back to the vidscreen, where Garrus waited impatiently, staring out at the two of them with a fixed, stern expression, nonplussed with the display. Then, turning his attention to Shepard again, David nodded, understanding, before starting to head slowly for the door of the cabin, shuffling his little feet as he went. As soon as the cabin door closed behind him, Shepard let out another sigh, louder this time, before turning back around to face Garrus again, no longer hiding her aggravation. Garrus met her stare with an equally irritated look, his arms crossed firmly across his broad chest as he let out a soft, unimpressed huff of contempt.

"The Sol System?" Garrus asked, sharply. "Really?"

"It was an easy system, Garrus," Shepard argued, letting out another sharp huff of breath, running a hand back through her bangs as she leaned on her elbows on the desk towards the vidscreen. "Don't start a fight over this. You know he has learning problems, we just wanted to make it as easy as possible for him."

Garrus shook his head at this argument, leaning back in his chair as he did so, letting out another soft scoff of disapproval. "I don't think that's really the case," he told her, frankly. "He's already speaking Sol-English, and now you're teaching him about your planetary system. You're trying to turn him into a human. He's not. He's more turian than human. You know that, Shepard."

Shepard frowned at the accusation, her hands clenching subconsciously into fists as she stared at him through the vidscreen monitor. "By whose arbitrary standards?" she insisted, vexed. "Last time I checked he was half and half, and inherently mammalian by scientific criterions." Leaning back in her chair as well, she bit her lip, drumming her fingers against the stiff material of the armrest as she took a few deep breaths, calming herself. These arguments always seemed to start so easily, over even the smallest of things, but she was determined not to let this one become something disproportionate to the issue at hand. "Besides, teaching him Sol-English doesn't mean anything," she added, quickly, matter-of-factly. "It's just more convenient. Admit that's true."

"Says who?" Garrus insisted, uncrossing his arms, letting them return to the armrests at his sides.

Shepard shrugged, rocking back in the chair a bit as she crossed her legs at the ankles in front of her. "Everyone on my ship speaks Sol-languages," she explained, reasonably, tapping her thumb absentmindedly against the line of her armrest. "His teacher speaks Sol-English. He actually talks like her, to be honest. He doesn't even sound like me at all. But you don't see me having an issue with the fact that our son has a British accent."

Garrus frowned, his plated brow furrowing at the mention of a dialect accent. "I have no idea what that means," he admitted, frankly. "It all translates the same way to me. But the fact that he doesn't even sound like his mother doesn't make me any happier about the situation."

"It's just a different way of speaking," Shepard explained, holding up her hands, dismissively. "It doesn't make any difference. We know all the same words and things. He's just…" Pausing again, she let out another short, frustrated sigh, shifting in her chair to try to get more comfortable, to little avail. "He's too young to wear a translator most of the time, Garrus," she told him, candidly. "The clip hurts his ear. You know his ears are sensitive. He can barely stand to wear one when he's talking to you."

"That doesn't make any sense," Garrus argued, letting out a short, exasperated huff of breath. "Everyone else on your ship wears translators. It wouldn't make any difference if he spoke in a Palev dialect, they'd still be able to understand him."

"But he wouldn't be able to understand them," Shepard returned, leaning forward in her chair again, frustrated. "Anyway, you wear a translator, Garrus. Why does it matter to you what language he speaks?"

"That's not the point," Garrus argued back, his voice a bit sharper now, clearly annoyed. "It's the principle of the thing, Shepard. He's my son, too. I just wish you would act like it sometimes." Letting out another sharp huff, he raised a hand, pointing in the direction of the cabin door, where their son had just disappeared from. "You won't let him dress in traditional turian garb," he told her, frankly. "And, y'know, I haven't said anything about that. But this is something else, Shepard. Would it kill you to let him learn a bit of my language?"

"He can barely keep up with Sol-English as it is, Garrus," Shepard answered, letting out a frazzled sigh as she leaned back in her chair again, holding out a frustrated, indicative hand. "And – where am I supposed to get traditional turian garb? Everything David wears is donated. I'd love to give him some turian clothes to wear – as it is, I have to cut the little slits out of all his pants so his spurs can go through. But…" Trailing off again, she pressed her hands to her face, letting them rest there for a moment before pushing them back through her hair with another, deeper, sadder sigh. "I don't have any money for clothes," she told him, honestly, letting her hands drop back to her lap again. "I don't have any money for anything but the bare essentials. I'm doing the best I can for him, Garrus, but it's just… so…" She stopped, staring out at him, all the fight of before seeming to leave her all at once as she heaved a soft, heavy, defeated exhale. "It's hard," she told him, quietly. "All of this, it's just… so hard."

Garrus frowned, his plated brow furrowing softly as his mandibles gave a few faint, thoughtful tics against the sides of his chin. "If you brought him to Palaven like I keep asking you to, I could take care of him just fine," he finally told her, speaking quieter now, his tone more sympathetic. "I keep telling you that. My family is well-off thanks to the silver trade, we could provide for him just as well as you can."

At this offer, Shepard looked up again, running her hands back over her hair, pushing her shaggy bangs out of her eyes before letting them fall back down again, overwhelmed. Then, taking a deep breath in, she shook her head, leaning back in her chair again and folding her arms across her chest. "David wouldn't do well on Palaven," she told him, bluntly. "We've been over this before."

"You don't know that for certain," Garrus argued, holding out a challenging hand. "Did you even ask him what he wanted, or do you just think you know?"

Shepard scoffed, looking away from the screen, digging the heel of her boot into the floor of her cabin as her brow furrowed into a hard, trapped line. "Palaven wouldn't be good for him," she said, inflexibly, refusing to meet his gaze. "He's too sensitive. Your air is… it's not the same as the air he's used to breathing, and your culture is…" Shaking her head again, she looked back at him again, letting out a short, sharp huff of breath through her nose. "It's too rough," she told him. "He'd be miserable. He'd only get hurt on Palaven, or worse."

Garrus paused, lifting his head, his mandibles tapping knowingly against the sides of his chin as he leaned back in his chair again, staring down at her across the ridged slope of his nose. "You're doing that thing again," he finally told her, causing her to look up in surprise, unable to keep a frown from her face.

"What thing?" Shepard asked, defensively.

"That thing you do," Garrus answered, frankly. "That thing where you think you know what's best for other people without asking them about it first."

Shepard huffed at this accusation, looking away again, flustered, before turning her attention back to him, her brow furrowing in indignant frustration. "David is three, Garrus," she told him, candidly. "It's not the same thing. I do know what's best for him. And if you were actually here helping instead of there, telling me what I'm doing wrong, maybe you would, too." Pursing her lips, she paused a moment, letting her statement sink in, noting the way Garrus was trying hard not to visibly bristle on the other end of the vidcomm. Then, letting out a sigh, she leaned back in her chair again, sinking down into it as she stared across the connection at the father of her child. "It's not easy, Garrus," she told him, honestly. "It's never been easy. But I'm doing the best I can for him."

"I never said you weren't," Garrus answered, truthfully, letting out another soft sigh of his own. "I'm just afraid you might be trying to take on more than you can handle, is all. I'm worried about you. Both of you."

Shepard frowned at the implication, taken aback, trying hard not to look as affronted as she felt. She was sure Garrus meant well by his statement, but she still could not help but feel that he was judging her on grounds he did not entirely understand. "Do you even know all the disorders your son has, Garrus?" she asked him, matter-of-factly, barely moving from her slouch as she spoke. "Because I don't, and I've been caring for him nonstop for three years. Some of his ailments aren't even human. I don't mind, I'd do anything to keep David healthy and safe, but his medical bills are at least three times what I make in retirement benefits." Pausing then, she considered a minute, her brow furrowing a bit in deliberation as her gaze trailed to one side of the vidscreen, thoughtfully. "Or, they were," she added, candidly. "Before Karin came back and started helping me out… but, even so, three years later, we still don't know everything that's wrong with him." Turning her attention back to Garrus again, she shifted a bit in her chair, chewing anxiously on her lower lip as she gave another curt, explanatory shrug. "It's a learning process," she told him, truthfully. "But at least I'm trying, Garrus. Every credit I make goes towards his well-being. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Garrus paused, letting her words sink in for a moment, his mandibles giving soft, meditative dips and tics against his tapered chin as he thought. Then, letting out a soft, relenting grunt, he nodded, turning his gaze away from the vidscreen, before letting out a soft sigh, his broad shoulders falling a bit as the will to fight began to leave him. "I appreciate everything you've done for him, Shepard," he told her, speaking quieter now, no longer in the mood to argue. "I just wish you would let me help."

"The Normandy is always open, Garrus," Shepard offered, opening her hands towards him, palms up, invitingly. "You're welcome to come back if you want."

Garrus frowned a bit at the invitation, his mandibles giving another few quick, wary twitches as he considered how to respond. "I'll keep that in mind," he finally said. "As soon as I'm no longer needed here, I'll do whatever I can to get back to the Normandy. And to you. Both of you." Taking another deep breath in, he paused, draping his elbow over the armrest of his chair as he watched Shepard intently through the vidscreen. "I do miss you, Shepard," he told her, truthfully. "I hate that we fight."

Shepard nodded in agreement, her lips drawing into a thin, conceding line. "Me too," she answered, solemnly. "But I guess it's a normal part of parenthood."

At this observation, Garrus snorted, half-amused, his mandibles giving a quick, thoughtful flare as he looked down towards his hand on the desk. "Hm," he agreed, absentmindedly. "Yeah. Parenthood. I guess so. You never really do get over the revelation of it. Especially considering…" Pausing then, he looked up at her again, his avian eyes watchful as his mandibles gave another few, preoccupied tics against his chin. "Well," he said, cutting himself short. "Let's just say it was a wild ride. One I'm not sure I'd want to take again. At least, not the same way we did last time."

"Maybe with less Reapers next time," Shepard suggested, offering him a warm, facetious smirk in return. Then, tucking her arms absentmindedly over her ribcage, she took a deep breath, holding it, before letting it out in a soft, wistful hum of a sigh. "I remember the first time you saw him," she suddenly told him, causing him to look up in surprise. "David. You remember that? The first time you realized he really was your son. You cried like a baby."

"Hah," Garrus chuckled, shortly, his wry smile widening at the resilient memory, absentmindedly rocking his chair as he thought. "Yeah, well. I was only crying because I thought you were trying to pass off somebody else's ugly kid on me. You would cry too if someone tried to do that to you."

At this remark, Shepard laughed out loud, leaning forward towards the vidscreen again before shaking her head at him, playfully scolding. "You're awful," she told him, amused.

"I know," Garrus answered, fairly, giving another laugh of his own and holding up his hands apologetically towards her. "I'm sorry. He's a beautiful boy. We did a good job." Then, letting his hands drop back to the desk again, he took a deep, proud breath in, smiling out at her from the vidscreen as he settled comfortably back in his chair once more.

Shepard considered his words, nodding her head in agreement, before letting out a soft sigh, the amusement of before starting to slowly leave her as the finality of their situation began to sink in once more. "We did, didn't we?" she returned, satisfied. Then, taking in another deep, thoughtful breath, she leaned back in her chair again, glancing over her shoulder towards the door of her cabin before returning her attention to him, a bit more solemn than before. "I should go," she told him, seeming reluctant to even say the words. "I need to check up on David, and… I've got a lot of other duties to attend to. But…" Trailing off, she hesitated, staring at him across the vidcomm connection, one hand curling into a subconscious fist at her side as she wet her lips, taking a deep breath in. "We should do this again sometime," she told him, letting out a soft breath of a laugh and forcing a pained, optimistic smile to her face.

Garrus paused, his own expression difficult to read, before finally offering her a smile in return, his gesture just as forced as hers, despite his best efforts to look sincere. "Definitely," he agreed, faking enthusiasm, just as reluctant to end the conversation as she was. "And… I'll try to work on my innuendos for next time."

"You better," Shepard teased, leaning in a bit towards the vidcomm again. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not so easily wooed anymore. You're gonna have to do better than a couple of card tricks. I've already got a full house."

Garrus faltered at this turn of phrase, seeming taken aback for a moment, before a wide, crooked smile began to creep across his features. "Ouch," he told her, letting out a breathy laugh. "Damn. That was good." Then, dropping his gaze again, he shook his head, still chuckling faintly, before looking up at her again and taking a deep breath in. "I'll… talk to you later, Shepard," he told her, quietly.

"Yeah," Shepard agreed, nodding. "You too, Garrus. Take care." Then, leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to the vidscreen, before leaning back again, smiling sadly, and pressing the button on the side of the monitor, severing the connection and sending the screen to black.