A/N: Thanks to S-Wanderer999 for a good discussion on who else it would be fun/interesting to have Hannah talk to. Getting under Hannah's skin a little more is a challenge for me, so here's an attempt to take it a little further...

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Two days after her discovery of the bootleg bar, Admiral Hannah Shepard found herself in need once more of a little friendly conversation. It had been a rough day - Rachel had arrested twice, and on both occasions the defibrillator had been required to jump-start her heart. The danger was past for the moment, but Hannah could admit to herself that she was in need of a stiff drink in addition to a sympathetic ear.

As she pushed through the swing doors, she saw she wasn't alone in seeking the barkeep's company. Another asari stood at the bar, stern visaged, pale skinned, dressed in a tight, low-cut set of red commando leathers that showcased an indisputably impressive cleavage. A golden torc adorned her neck, with a matching red and gold two-part headpiece resting across her brow. It was a style of dress Hannah hadn't seen on any other asari before, and she couldn't help but stare just a little as she approached.

Aethyta, dressed in the same ratty, scuffed commando leathers as she had been two days' previous, spotted her and grinned a welcome. "Hey, babe. What'll you have?"

"Vodka, straight up, please," Hannah replied, then she managed a reciprocal grin as a thought occurred. "Unless you haven't cleaned the bar lately, sweetheart."

"Ah, shit, sorry, babe. I'm too good a bartender to let the bar stay dirty for long," Aethyta chuckled. "Vodka straight, coming up." She gestured to her companion. "Don't know if you've met our resident law enforcement? Justicar Samara, meet Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard."

The strange asari inclined her head gracefully. "Blessings of the Goddess. Are you a relative of Commander Shepard?"

Hannah nodded; she was still reticent about admitting Rachel was here, but word had started to get around, and it seemed pointless to deny a direct question. "Yes. Rachel's my daughter." She exchanged an uncertain glance with Aethyta; she was sure she'd heard the name Samara before, but the context eluded her.

"Samara worked with Shepard junior against the Collectors," Aethyta offered, gracefully salvaging the situation as she passed Hannah her drink in a measuring beaker.

"Indeed," Samara agreed. "We corrected a monstrous injustice in destroying their base. In and of itself, that would have been enough to assure Shepard of my undying respect, but I also owe her two personal debts beyond my power to repay. And so I will remain here until my services are no longer required, one way or the other." She tilted her head as she studied Hannah, and the Admiral was struck once more with a sense of being evaluated, almost judged. She wondered idly if it was normal to feel that way whenever an asari looked at you, or if it was some special power reserved for matriarchs - no one had said anything, but there was something about Samara that suggested the wealth of wisdom and experience a matriarch should have.

"I'm glad Rachel was able to help you," Hannah offered, genuinely pleased to meet one of her daughter's acquaintances. "I appreciate your concern, and I'm sure if Rachel knew you were here, she'd be delighted." Curiosity got the better of her. "If it's not too personal, what exactly did Rach help you with?"

"Why do you ask?" Samara countered, her tone becoming cold.

Hannah spread her hands in an appeasing gesture as the intimidating alien frowned; Samara was certainly much closer to what Hannah imagined an asari matriarch would be like than Aethyta was, and the admiral was already in no doubt as to which of the two she preferred the company of. Aethyta had plenty of wisdom, it was just... better camouflaged. "It's only that, well, I never heard much about what she was doing after she was brought back..." The very idea of that resurrection was still almost wholly unbelievable, almost a year later. Hannah had overheard Dr. Lawson talking to Dr. Price yesterday about the complexity of the cybernetics that governed Rachel's body, and she was amazed that someone else - someone like Cerberus - should have placed such enormous value on her daughter's life. "I'd like to know more. She almost died this afternoon, and I would never have got the chance to find out..." Abruptly, a memory shouldered its way to the front of Hannah's consciousness, derailing her train of thought.

"I know how classified TDY works, Rachel, but really, letting everyone think you were dead..."

"I was."

"...to the point that we had a funeral for you? Don't you realise just how much that hurt me, hurt everyone? For God's sake, I buried you! We had a goddamn wake! I really thought you were gone!" Hannah was shouting at the screen, unable to stop herself, control her grief and anger, tears running down her face.
"I know that, Mom, but you're not..." Rachel's voice cracked, "...you're not listening to me. I'm trying to tell you I did die."

"Can't you drop the cover for two minutes? Not even with me?" Hannah demanded angrily, hurt by the lack of trust, a breach between them that had never been there before.

"It wasn't a cover! Jesus Christ, Mom, I..." Tears were streaming down Rachel's cheeks now as well. "When have I ever lied to you about anything?"

The pain in Rachel's voice cut through Hannah's building rage. She took a deep breath as she considered the question. "Never. Well, not about anything that was important."

"So why the fuck would I have started now?"

"Watch your mouth, young lady." The reprimand was reflexive, spilling out of her mouth without thought, but somehow, the mundane normality of the scolding snuffed out the spark of the argument, and after a moment Rachel coughed out a teary laugh.

"Really, Mom?" Her daughter wiped her face with her sleeve, breathing deeply trying to recover some poise. "God's honest truth," she swore quietly. "I was killed in the attack on the Normandy. I was trying to evacuate my pilot when an explosion knocked me loose from the bridge and spaced me. My oxygen line fractured, and I... I suffocated inside my hardsuit. I died. For real."

Hannah stared at her, brain short-circuiting as she tried to understand. There's nothing but agonised truth in Rachel's face and voice. "But how..."

Rachel sighed heavily. "Cerberus brought me back. It's a long story, and I don't... shit, I don't have a lot of time. Not enough time to tell it properly - I'm on my way back to Earth, per Hackett's orders, to surrender myself for court martial." She fidgeted nervously, rubbing at the back of her neck. "I don't know what's going to happen me, but this time, before it does, I wanted to call you. Hell, forget calling, I wanted to see you, so much... I was really looking forward to that... but time's run out on me. Again." She looked up at the ceiling, lip trembling, and Hannah suddenly saw the tiredness and the grief in the drawn lines of her daughter's face. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, for it to get so badly fucked up. I never meant to hurt you. I'm trying my best to do the right thing, be who you taught me to be. Anderson knows the truth, so does Hackett. If I can't get in touch with you, ask them. They'll tell you what's been going on, what we're up against. And one day soon, when I see you, I will tell you everything. I love you, Mom."

Hannah had already lost her daughter once and learned the truth of that loss much later. Now, as she faced losing her again, she was beginning to realise how little she knew of the last year of her daughter's life. Even Aethyta, a passing acquaintance, seemed to know more than she did. And this justicar had travelled with her, worked with her, she would know so much...

Gritting her teeth, she knocked back her shot to cauterise the tears that brimmed in her vision. "Please," she begged softly. "Anything you can tell me about my little girl would be appreciated."

Samara thought for a moment, then nodded. "Very well," she relented. "Shepard assisted me in the killing one of my daughters, and helped me save another's life."

Hannah blinks at her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Not what she was expecting to hear. "Excuse me?"

Samara's stern expression remained impassive. "What do you know of Ardat-Yakshi, Admiral Shepard?"

Aethyta whistled softly, sympathy etching into her features, and Hannah inferred that whatever Samara has just alluded to was not pleasant. "Nothing," she admitted. "Why?"

"Ardat-Yakshi are asari afflicted with a rare genetic condition that inflicts death upon a partner when they meld. All three of my daughters were born with it. It is a terrible curse."

"There's no cure?" Hannah asked, though she suspected not from the fact that such unfortunates were given a special name.

"No," Samara confirmed coldly. "Once the condition manifests at around the age of forty, the afflicted are offered a choice. They may choose to enter a monastery for the remainder of their lives, or they may choose death."

"That seems harsh," Hannah observed, surprised by the notion that a race like the asari would not countenance some sort of rehab program, some way to manage the condition. The choices of seclusion or death seemed downright mediaeval.

"Yeah, it seems it," Aethyta agreed, "but it's for their own protection as much as anyone else's. See, babe, melding's a pretty awesome experience. Imagine kissing a lover, and then compare it to the best orgasm you've ever had. That's the difference between physical union and mental union for an asari. It's not to say we don't enjoy a good kiss, it's certainly not to say that sex isn't intensely pleasurable on its own merits," Aethyta paused to leer wickedly at Hannah, no doubt enjoying making the human blush, "it definitely is, but a meld, even on its own, is a whole different level, and if you combine the two... Athame's sacred tits, I need a cold shower just thinking about it." The bartender flushed slightly as Samara glowered at her. "Yeah... so... anyway, an Ardat-Yakshi's kind of like a sex addict. Once they start melding, they get hooked, and the compulsion to meld grows stronger with every mating. And since they leave the poor bastard they meld with dead, that means they become addicted to killing. They can't stop themselves, and then they don't want to stop, and since they get smarter and stronger every time they mate, the longer they run for, the harder they are to bring down."

Hannah shivered. "Sounds a bit like a vampire," she remarked. At the questioning glances of the two asari, she clarified, "Human mythological creatures that fed on the blood of humans, and were functionally immortal with supernatural powers - flight, shape change, invulnerability. They supposedly could only be killed by beheading, a stake through the heart, or exposure to sunlight, and the longer they lived, the more their powers grew. They're fictional, though. Monsters under the bed."

"Ardat-Yakshi are no mere figment of the imagination, Admiral," Samara said sternly. "And even though the one who runs never starts out as a monster, the tragedy is that she is fated to become one, regardless of her initial motivations. When they accept seclusion, there is no chance for them to know the pleasures of the body and mind, but they can still live a relatively normal life." She closed her eyes for a moment, and a squall of pain flitted across her harsh features. "My eldest, Mirala, chose to run. She was the bravest and smartest of my daughters, a free spirit with a reckless sense of adventure, so very much like I was in my distant youth. She could not, would not accept a cage, so she ran. And once Falere, my youngest, joined her sister Rila in seclusion, I was free to follow Mirala, or Morinth, as she had chosen to call herself. I ended my relationship with my bondmate, forsook all worldly possessions, left behind everything I knew and loved, to become a justicar. It was my penance for my daughter's sins, for the lives she took, and for those she left bereft, a quest for absolution and justice that took four hundred years." The justicar stared intently into Hannah's eyes. "Your daughter helped me attain that absolution."

"How?" Hannah breathed, captivated. This kind of shit just doesn't happen in real life, a little voice whispered in her mind, but it was an easily silenced critic; the pain in the cold asari's eyes and the pity in Aethyta's give weight to the truth.

"She came to Ilium looking to recruit me for her mission against the Collectors. A noble cause, worthy of one of my order, but I had only recently reacquired Morinth's trail, and I was loath to let her slip away. However, the authorities in Nos Astra wished to restrain me, fearing I might cause a diplomatic incident."

Hannah looked to Aethyta in confusion, and the darker-skinned matriarch nodded. "Samara's a Justicar, sworn to uphold the laws of the Republics without fear or favour. She serves as judge, jury, and executioner, adhering to the principles of the Justicar Code to determine innocence, guilt, and right action. If she were to witness, say, a red sand smuggling transaction, she would be compelled to execute the smugglers. Asari accept that, but the code of the justicars is not recognised as a legitimate law enforcement tool by the other races. And since Nos Astra is not exactly the most clean-living metropolis in the galaxy, doing business as it does with the Terminus systems, well... there would have been plenty of opportunities for Samara to blow the head off a turian or a salarian in full public view and cause a major diplomatic clusterfuck."

"Colourfully put," Samara remarked dryly, " but accurate. Commander Shepard offered to assist me, recognising a mutual benefit to co-operation. She had tracked Morinth to a ship which had departed to Omega. If I were to accompany her, she would help me confront Morinth if I would then help her against the Collectors. I agreed. We stayed on Ilium a few days longer, to recruit the assassin Thane Krios, and then we travelled to Omega." The justicar looked over at the bartender. "May I trouble you for a drink of water, Aethyta?"

"You sure you don't want something stronger?"

"I do not drink alcohol."

Aethyta shrugged as she poured water carefully from the cracked enamel jug on the counter into an ornamental beer stein. "More for the rest of us, then. Hannah, babe, same again?"

Hannah shook her head. "You got whiskey there, bourbon maybe? Something to sip rather than shoot?"

"You got it."

Samara waited until Hannah had her drink, then continued her account. "I had the privilege to witness your daughter's prowess on the battlefield on many occasions. She is a gifted warrior and an exemplary leader, but more than any of our missions, our work on Omega proved to me that I had not erred in offering my services to her. Morinth had already claimed one victim, a young human girl, an artist. Her mother was distraught, and I had no words of sympathy to offer. How could I, knowing that my own child had caused such anguish? Shepard calmed the woman, with kind words and a compassion that touched my soul. And then she agreed to bait a trap for Morinth. She walked into that nightclub alone, and walked out of it with my daughter, unarmed, unarmoured, defenceless except for the strength of her will, and fully aware that it might not be enough. She placed her life completely in my hands. Rarely in my nine centuries of life have I witnessed such selfless bravery." Samara shook her head and sighed. "I followed them to Morinth's lair. Shepard was not able to totally withstand my daughter's powers, but I got there before she could meld, and then I... I put an end to her killings, once and for all."

Silence fell, and Hannah studied the surface of her drink intently as she tried to put herself in Samara's position. It was impossible, too hurtful to even begin to comprehend. "I'm sorry," she offered inadequately after a long moment of introspective quiet. "I mean, I know how it feels to lose a daughter - I lost Rachel three years ago - but have no idea how painful that must have been for you."

Samara smiled faintly. "I see where Commander Shepard obtained her compassion and forthright speech," she replied. "You are kind, but I need no pity. I was distraught at the time, but I have come to terms with it. My daughter is at peace." She looked away for a moment then spoke again in a far unsteadier tone. "Two of my daughters. Rila died during the war."

Hannah flicked a glance at Aethyta, whose face bore pure, unguarded pity for the proud, aloof warrior in the red armour. "They rest with the Goddess, in peace and joy unending," the barkeep offered solemnly.

"Thank you," Samara said softly. "That night brought an end to my quest. I was free to pursue other agendas. I had already sworn the Third Oath of Subsumation to Shepard, so I joined her crew formally."

"Fuck me," Aethyta breathed. "You swore unconditional loyalty to an alien?" She gave Hannah a sidelong glance. "No offence, kid, but in all my life I've never heard of that happening."

"It was necessary," Samara shrugged. "When I agreed to our bargain, I did not know the Commander, did not know her morals, her purpose. Spectres are seldom appointed for their respect for the law, and past experience taught me to be cautious in dealing with any who carry the shield of a Spectre's powers. Such freedom to act without penalty often breeds evil. But our goals were too important to risk a conflict between the Code and Shepard's orders. By swearing to obey, I was free to act unreservedly on Shepard's behalf, even if her orders had proved unlawful or unjust."

"And what if they had been?" Hannah asked, fascinated by this insight into asari culture.

"Then, when my vow was released, I would be compelled to follow the Code and dispense justice." Samara met Hannah's gaze. "I have not yet unbound that oath."

Chill fingers of fear traced down Hannah's spine. Rachel was helpless to defend herself; if in her Spectre work she had violated some statute of asari law in the eyes of this woman, there was little anyone at the hospital could offer by way of protection. "Why not?" she forced herself to ask, and Samara smiled suddenly, transforming her severity into a serene beauty.

"You need have no fear for your daughter, Hannah Shepard. She is an honest and upright soul, and I am proud to call her my friend. Some of her associates, however, have... less rigorous scruples, pasts tainted with evildoing that I would be compelled to act upon. For the friendship I bear her, and the debts I owe, my oath to Shepard will remain in force for as long as I live."

"Oh yeah?" Aethyta reached for a fresh glass and began polishing it vigorously. "Who on Shepard's crew would be on your shit list, then?"

"The thief, Kasumi Goto. The convict, Jack, and the assassin Thane Krios, although he is already in the embrace of the Goddess." Samara frowned. "Why would you ask?"

"Just curious," Aethyta shrugged, the pace of her rubbing at the marks on the glass easing off. "Seems to me that Shepard's crew are all pretty much big damn heroes these days. I guess it'd look kinda bad if you were to start slaughtering them for unpaid parking fines."

"Politics are not my concern," Samara retorted. "But I would rather not be placed in a position of being forced to choose my duty over my friendship." She sighed pensively. "As far as I can determine, I am the last living Justicar. When I die, our way of life will be gone, and while the code defines who I am, I am learning, perhaps far too late, that there are spaces where the code has nothing to say that are open to interpretation." Her smile returned. "Again, Admiral, I have your daughter to thank for that. She helped me to save my youngest girl, Falere, from the Reapers. We could not save Rila, but I still have a family thanks to Commander Shepard." Samara stepped forward and gave a little bow, hands crossed on her chest. "My thanks to you, Hannah Shepard, for the gift of your daughter, my dear friend, to this galaxy. As a mother, I feel your pain. Know that I will do anything in my power to assist with Shepard's recovery. I pray for her in each quiet moment I have, but I knwo that she is strong, and brave, and she has much to live for. I know in my heart she will return to us."

"Thank you, Samara, I..." Words failed Hannah as her emotions roiled. "I... I had no idea about any of this." No idea that my kid had earned the respect and total loyalty of a nine-hundred-year-old asari version of Judge Dredd. Pride swelled in her chest at the thought. If someone like Samara could respect Rachel, then damn if her kid wasn't good at what she did. Not bad for a puny human, huh?

"It's the fate of a parent to never have much handle on what your kids are up to once they step outside your front door," Aethyta commiserated wryly. "You have to trust they're doing all right, but it feels pretty good when you get some validation, huh?"

"Yeah," Hannah agreed. "I'm proud of her, I always have been, but it means a lot to me just to know. So much of her work is classified, and we've had so little time together since she came back. I've missed out on a lot."

"Well, I'm sure there are other people around who know her," Aethyta noted. "Talk to them. Find out more. Then, when she gets around to waking up you'll have plenty of ammunition for a proper scolding."

"How d'you figure that?"

"Well, just with this story you've got her going home with strange girls without even thinking about protection. I mean, Athame's sweet and sacred ass, didn't she listen to you when you gave her 'the talk'?"

Hannah burst out laughing, and raised her cup to tap it against Aethyta's. "I like your thinking, Aethyta."

"Course you do," the barkeep grinned.

Samara smiled tolerantly, then drained her drink. "I must go. I have duties to attend to with the rescue crews." She inclined her head politely to Hannah. "Admiral. We will meet again. Aethyta."

"Justicar," Aethyta returned, equally politely, but as soon as Samara had gone, she beckoned Hannah closer to the bar. "Damn if she ain't stiff-assed."

"She seems very harsh," Hannah remarked. "I think it would be difficult to get to know her."

"Most justicars are like that. Samara's actually one of the more open-minded ones I've met. Hardly any of them interact with the other races, so they never get into situations where their code can be questioned. If she's making compromises like that oath, then she's learned some pretty painful lessons."

"I think that's something we all share in this time, this place," Hannah reflected, taking a swallow from her drink.

"Ain't that the truth."

"Any word on your daughters yet?"

"No." Aethyta sighed. "I spoke to my girl on the Nefrane again, she hasn't heard anything either. All I can do now is wait."

Hannah grimaced. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Nah, don't worry about it, kid. You asked out of concern, and that's appreciated." Aethyta lifts her glass once more. "Anyway, here's to still being here."

"Still being here." Hannah echoed the toast, reflecting that in some ways, she was luckier than Aethyta. Critically injured Rachel might be, but she was here, where Hannah could see her and hold her. She knew what was happening. Aethyta had no such luxury. "Listen, I appreciate the support, and... well, you know if you ever need the same..."

Aethyta smiled. "I know, babe. Don't worry, if I need to talk, I'll find you. Now, go home and get some sleep. You look like shit."

Hannah chuckled as she set her teacup down on the bar. "Aye aye, ma'am. See you around?"

"Count on it."