Thirty-seven hours later – The Normandy

The doors to his cabin opened and Shepard clomped inside, a grim look on his face. Red dust clung to his boots and was pressed into the tile, leaving ghostly imprints upon the shining surface. Each time he took a step the stuff was knocked off his body and flitted down to the floor, where a trail of contaminants perfectly outlined his path. He didn't care at all about his dirtying of his personal space, he could always have a drone do the cleanup after him, saving him the trouble of having to perform any menial labor.

Shepard tossed his helmet to the side, spreading more reddish silt on the ground as it rolled to a stop near his bed. Sighing from his stiffness, he reached behind his neck to depress the catch of his body armor with a hiss-snap!, allowing him to slip out of it easily. Two minutes later, the soiled black armor lay scattered in pieces on the ground, aimless and disorganized. To Shepard as he finally kicked his boots off, he felt immense relief as the enormous weight was literally lifted off his shoulders, his covering that restricted his movements and constricted his breathing freed from his personal space.

Heh, at least I don't have to wear the damn thing for all of my life. Lucky me.

His muscles were sore from the exertions placed on him for the last day and a half. Shepard's hand unconsciously found its way next to his side and patted the vial still tucked into his pants pocket. How lucky he had been to have brought it along when the Reapers attacked Earth in the middle of his meeting. How then would he have been able to cope if he wasn't provided with his out from his growing pains?

The Reapers. Shepard's nails dug into his palms as he balled his hands into tight fists. They had arrived, just like Harbinger had said. It had been without warning, without mercy. All that had transpired within their appearance had been mass pandemonium. Shepard could still recall running across the rooftops of Vancouver, looking down at the people hysterically trying to escape in the streets and watching them get disintegrated by the monsters themselves. Screams had filled the air as thousands were ripped to shreds by the mutated thralls that ejected from the undercarriage of the demons. The calm and precise order of reality had been shattered and abandoned, it was now all out war.

Shepard was still in shock at how quickly the events had transpired. One minute he had been discussing possible tactics in case of a Reaper invasion in the committee hall, the next he had found himself lying on the floor, his skin slightly singed and his eardrums ringing as heat and light swept across him, bits of shattered glass cutting his face as they flew from their panes. It had taken him a few seconds to realize that he had just been shot at by a Reaper and that the end was upon them as far as he knew. The harvest had now begun.

He thought the waiting for oblivion had been agonizing but now the sheer knowledge that all of his work had been for nothing was subtly starting to sink in, causing an ache near the back of his skull to form, making his teeth chatter.

Still, there was some vindication to be had. As the result of an impromptu semi-apology from Admiral Anderson, Shepard now found himself back in command of the Normandy, all privileges restored. He had little time to gloat from his victory, almost immediately getting hailed by Admiral Hackett after he had left Earth's orbit to investigate the Mars archives for important data regarding the war effort. It was as though Shepard had not been confined to a room for six whole months while the rest of the galaxy continued without him, much to his chagrin. He would have liked a little more acknowledgement for his sacrifices while everyone else had proceeded with their normal routines. Perhaps Hackett was too prideful to admit his error in judgment, perhaps.

If Shepard had been half cut at the time of that conversation, he would have sufficed for spitting onto the lens of the hologram projector and telling Hackett to fuck off, finally through with taking orders from him. After all, Hackett was the one who arrested him, despite his so-called belief of his innocence. Shepard was still wary of the man's opinion regarding his decision to destroy the Alpha Relay. If he truly believed that Shepard was innocent, he would have done more than abandon him during this crucial period of mobilization. He should have let the batarians believe Shepard was still in confinement when in reality he could have been working to have Shepard quietly organize a defensive plan closely with the home fleet, preparing more thoroughly for their imminent doom.

As it was, Shepard was not inebriated enough to make a shambles of his reinstatement so soon that he could only grit his teeth and accept the man's orders. Sure, he could go to Mars, why the fuck not? There were probably better things he could be doing with his time and there were certainly other commanders of ships closer in vicinity but no, they had to call upon him. Him. Just the one person anyone could count on to solve all of their problems.

As if anyone else could make much more of a difference today. Sure, Shepard had accomplished the primary objective by retrieving the vital data from the Prothean archives, as per Hackett's request. Sure, they successfully repelled a platoon of Cerberus troopers with little effort as apparently the Illusive Man had not taken lightly to Shepard's resignation from that misguided organization. From the looks of things, the man had felt he had been slighted and now he felt compelled to send his grunts to do all of the dirty work, even rebelling against their own kind while the galaxy crumbled around them. Shepard recalled the last time they had spoken before today, with him closing their sparring of words by telling the shadowy figure to stay out of his way and then cutting the channel when he tried to argue further. It never failed to bring a smile to his face each time he recalled that memory, the Illusive Man's expression of disbelief and shock, perhaps the first time he had allowed himself to show those emotions in a long time.

The events of Mars did not come without consequence, unfortunately. A Cerberus infiltrator had managed to snag the valuable data before them but James Vega had successfully prevented the mech from escaping by ramming a shuttle into its escape vehicle. In defense, the agent managed to knock Kaidan Alenko unconscious before Shepard could deactivate it by firing bullets at its central processing unit. He had to carry the biotic back onto the ship, where it was determined that he was too badly wounded to be treated on the ship itself as the human was sporting a massive concussion and a shaken implant, necessitating a deviation to the Citadel for the proper facilities to attend to him.

According to Joker, it would be at least six hours before the Normandy would reach the Serpent Nebula where they would receive a triage unit for Alenko. That was fine by Shepard, he had done all he needed to do at the moment. He and Liara T'Soni, his old squad member and the lead researcher at the archives, both updated Hackett on the situation, showing him that the Protheans had managed to design some superweapon capable of destroying the Reapers, the lone bit of information that was now their ace in the hole at this time. After the briefing was over, Liara left to prepare a presentation to the Citadel Council regarding constructing this weapon and Shepard was just abandoned there in the comm room to twiddle his thumbs.

Realizing that it had been over twenty four hours since he had gotten any sleep, he headed straight back up to his cabin, somewhat relieved that he would get to lounge in a familiar place, despite the bed being a little on the stiff side. Still, it would be beneficial for him to rest after the events of the past few days, he needed to get some sleep and if he didn't soon he would be in danger of burning out, unless he managed to procure a sedative to help him with that transition.

Now, Shepard stood up from his chair, maneuvering around the haphazardly scattered armor and down the staircase to his bed. His muscles now were really starting to feel sore; they felt strained, tense at the amount of exertion they had been put through after six months of a sedentary lifestyle. It was a wonder that his limbs hadn't snapped off his body at this point. He also felt very grimy, as evidenced by the slippery grease accumulated from his sweat all around his face. Shepard, at this point, decided against the shower because he knew that if he stepped inside, he would undoubtedly fall asleep and potentially drown from the water sluicing into his open mouth. He had an idea of how he wanted to die but going out in the shower did not seem like a memorable end that he wanted to conclude his chapter on. The shower could wait until the morning.

Stooping down, Shepard felt the familiar handle of the bottle from the same spot he had left it under the bed. Straightening back up (after his back cracked in protest) he blew the dust off the whisky bottle and found to his satisfaction that it was still somewhat occupied. Guess the renovators never found his private stash while making the upgrades to the ship. There was a little more than a quarter left of the amber liquid and since they were headed to the Citadel where he could purchase new stores easily, he decided that he might as well put this bottle to good use.

Twisting the cap off, he let it fall from his fingers as he gently lowered himself down onto the bed, groaning as it yielded to his frame. Actually, he considered, it was more comfortable than he remembered. Perhaps his fatigue was amplifying his discomfort so much that even a hardwood floor would seem like a pillow to him.

Anxious to begin, he brought the bottle to his lips and winced as the lukewarm liquid traveled down his throat. He coughed slightly, causing a few drops to spill from the handle onto his shirt. Shepard cursed slightly before controlling himself, taking a second, but slower gulp of the whisky, the process going much smoother this time.

Here's to you, Kaidan, you sorry bastard. You've finally moved up the chain of command and now you're comatose because of it. That's for not trusting me when you had the chance.

The oaky aftertaste lingered on his tongue, making him close his eyes to savor the flavor, already feeling his body start to spiral downward somewhat. Truthfully, Shepard should have been somewhat worried regarding the major's health but the more he concentrated, the harder it was to actually feel for the man at all. The last time they had run into each other on Horizon, the man had practically spat in his face about working with a terrorist organization and refusing to help him out for whatever selfish and convenient reason. After that disastrous encounter, it would be a tall order to get Shepard to feel sorry for the bedridden man, despite them working together now…for all of two hours.

Maybe Kaidan was the lucky one. Maybe he would die from this encounter, thereby proving him wrong and showing in some twisted way that Shepard was always right. Shepard didn't know if he should pity the man or feel envious. Kaidan's out was more apparent while his own was growing clouded with each passing day. Perhaps fate had a different plan for him, perhaps he was cursed to watch everyone around him die while the Reapers continued in their dark misdeeds. Perhaps only then, when the last person he held dear was snuffed out, he would be given the ending that he so deserved.

Fifty credits that you won't let that happen, Johnnie-boy. You will never give them the satisfaction.

Finding solace in his own personal cheerleader, he toasted the room, not knowing exactly who he was acknowledging, raising the bottle high before tilting it again, this time taking a longer pull than before. He did not splutter but only felt disappointment as he realized that draw yielded no discernable results with regard to his sobriety and also because that was the last the bottle had to yield to him.

And that one was for you, Tali. Perhaps it was more than you deserve, anyway…

Shepard shoved the bottle off his bed in a huff, hearing a dull clunk as it made hit the floor and slowly rolled away, making an annoying hollow noise as it did so. He crossed his arms over his chest, delegated to watching the stars whizz past by his window as the Normandy proceeded at FTL speeds. He could still make out the contours of his room rather sharply, indicating that he had that the amount of alcohol that the bottle had contained in its depths had not been as effective as he had hoped. At the very least, it was enough to make his eyes start to droop until the last thing he needed at this moment intruded upon him without warning, causing his pulse to rise in alarm.

"So, another successful mission, courtesy of the Savior of the Citadel himself. No, don't get up, Shepard. Let everyone see you for who you really are, just a lucky drunkard who's always been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Shepard cracked an eye open to see Saren reclining on the couch across from him, hands on his knees as he seemed to pulse with satisfaction. Shepard sighed and drew his feet closer to his chest in a fetal position as he lay atop the covers. "Go away," he murmured distantly. "I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now."

"You've never been in a talking mood with me," Saren corrected. "If I recall correctly, the first time we corresponded you wouldn't stop throwing things at me, trying to get me to leave. However, I've persisted and now you hardly put up a fight these days. Either you've matured or you've just accepted things for how they are so don't act like you're surprised. You're going to talk with me now, despite your claims to the contrary."

Shepard turned on his side, away from the Spectre as he groaned. "Can't you just leave me alone? I've been through a lot these past two days. There are hardly any defenses for you to break through this time."

"Oh, I don't doubt it. Much has changed since our last little heart-to-heart. Your planet was decimated just hours ago and now you have a comrade fighting for his life a couple floors below us. Your first mission after your reinstatement and already someone got hurt. Who was he, the one you saved on Virmire instead of the other you left behind to defend the bomb? If that's the case then it would have been kinder to have let him be the one to perish, seeing as he might die at any point. Perhaps that female human would have been more understanding of your personal plight. She did seem to share an attraction to you…"

Shepard's hand reached toward the pocket of his pants, drawing a laugh from the turian as he spotted the movement. "Going back to your pills won't make me go away, Shepard. You can't keep me out forever, you know."

Scowling, Shepard withdrew his hand, feeling the edge of the vial brush against his fingers. He considered his decision some more before letting his hand drop to his side, empty. "I don't need them right now, anyway."

"Sure. Why would you ever need them in the first place? They were never meant for me in the first place."

"They're for my implants-"

Saren let loose an enormous laugh, head tilted upward as the satisfaction-riddled burst passed from the turian's throat. "Now that I doubt. Are you worried that I might tell someone your secret? You and I both know that you don't take those for your physical pain, right? You've never needed them when you were brought back, so there can only be one explanation for this."

"I…I don't…"

"Cut the bullshit, Shepard," Saren sighed, rolling his eyes. "You continually thinking about that quarian is the reason why you're like this now. You're trying so hard to cling to her memory when you fail to realize that she's the one poisoning your mind in the first place." The turian gave a nonchalant shrug as he leaned back on the couch, helping himself to Shepard's furniture. "All things considered, it would be better for you to forget about her entirely, save you the anguish."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Shepard shouted as he sat up. "Unless you have a better solution, I don't know how else to stop these memories from pouring in!" He reached down and produced the vial, shaking it forcefully and hearing the little tablets of relief rattle around. "This is the only thing that has made me cope! There is no other way for me to get around it!"

Saren now stood, heavily walking over to where Shepard was curled up. Standing over the human for a second, he kneeled down so that his faces was inches away until Shepard could almost imagine that he was smelling the alien's rancid breath.

"It won't matter in the slightest because you're weak, Shepard," Saren breathed, watching the human start to tremble. "You were too weak to stop the Reapers' arrival and you're too weak as evidenced by you clinging desperately to the past in an effort to relive days of better fortune."

"Shut up," Shepard croaked, eyes turning watery as he shut them in a panic. "Please…shut up… I'm not clinging to anything…"

"You did have a point, though. There is an alternative solution to your pain, one that you have overlooked in your blindness."

"Please…" Shepard whispered weakly. "Tell me…"

"It's not my place for me to divulge that to you. You forget, I'm not here to help you. You are pathetic, human. Pathetic. Your quarian whore is gone, your world is burning, and things will only get worse. If you're already moping around then your defeat will come swifter than expected, I suppose. A sad end to a once formidable adversary. Maybe in time you'll be able to look back and see the folly of your actions, right as she is killed in front of you because the Reapers know that you care about her-"

With a roar, Shepard surged to the other side of his bed and picked up the empty whisky bottle. Bringing himself back up, he swept his arm across and opened his fingers at the terminus of his swing. The bottle, aimed straight and true, sailed through the air and through the leering turian, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces as it impacted with the wall beyond. With a final parting snarl, Saren vanished for now.

Relieved, Shepard coughed as he slumped onto the bed, his arm cramping from the violent movement. Shivering as he now noticed that his body was covered in a cold sweat, he wiped his forehead as he tried to calm himself down. The sanctuary of his bed provided an escape as he now climbed into it, wishing for the covers to warm him up as he wrapped himself in the linens.

Too alert to fall asleep, Shepard prepared for another rough night when he suddenly realized the asset currently at his disposal. With little hesitation, he unclenched his other fist, viewing the strained plastic bend from his grip as he tipped one pill into his palm. He stared at the solitary little dot for a good long while, remembering what Saren had said. Yes, there was pain involved in his life, but was it pain that he could get rid of? No, it was too late for him. He had gotten too close to the Reapers. He needed to forestall them any way he could.

And she would not rid herself from his mind.

There was no liquid in sight to help him choke the pill down but Shepard would rather be damned before leaving his secure bed. There was no assurance that whatever monsters his soul hid from him would arise as soon as he would reveal himself from his protective cocoon. Sometimes one just had to make do with what they had.

He was wrong, Shepard thought sourly as he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed, feeling the lump travel uncomfortably down his throat without any fluid to help aid it in its journey. I don't care about you. I don't. I don't. I don't….

Migrant Fleet – Liveship Rayya

Tens of thousands of ships strong, the Migrant Fleet was the largest fleet in the galaxy by terms of actual numbers of space-worthy units. The act of having the fleet move from one location to another was such an arduous process that it would be at least half a day to get every single ship organized within one system. For anyone lucky enough to see the fleet with their own eyes, the entire cluster would be altogether breathtaking, a sea of metal in this dark and inky blackness.

Unfortunately, to say that most of them were not falling apart at the seams would be a bit of a fib. The quarians, being a nomadic race, generally did not construct their own ships, having to resort to scavenging or retrofitting older ships in an effort to keep them properly running. As it was, there was hardly a ship owned by the quarians that was younger than ten years old, demonstrating just how insular they were as a society.

The pinnacles of the fleet, on the other hand, the liveships, were perhaps the most intimidating vessels in the entire galaxy. They were not warships, but vast stores of resources that provided the quarians with enough food to feed millions from their advanced technology in agriculture engineering. There were three of them: the Rayya, the Shellen, and the Ixxma. All three were essentially the heart of the Migrant Fleet itself, the loss of would mean the starvation of millions of quarians, thereby holding each ship as highly regarded as humans would do the same to Earth.

The Rayya was now where the Admiralty Board held their tribunal at this time. Considering the ship's significance and value, it was an appropriate place to hold such a gathering. The board itself was made up of five admirals, essentially the ruling government of the quarian people if a state of war happened to be declared, in which case the decisions of the five could overrule any actions from the civilian government, the Conclave. Most coincidentally, the quarians happened to be in a state of war.

It was unknown to Tali'Zorah how exactly she ended up on the Admiralty Board to begin with, seeing as her history with butting heads with her government was rather checkered and unpredictable. Therefore, it had been a surprise to her, as probably most of the civilians, when she had been whisked off to be handed the title of admiral as soon as she stepped on board her birth ship, rushed into a ceremony in which she had gone from a citizen to a military leader in the blink of an eye.

Tali would have figured that the board would have already named someone else to fill the spot her late father had occupied by now, seeing that it had been a few months since his demise at the hands of his own errant geth experiment. Evidently, they had either put it off and randomly chose her on the spot, or they were deliberately waiting for her to arrive so that they could make a show of naming Rael'Zorah's daughter as part of the board as some propaganda tool. She really couldn't imagine what her father would be feeling if he was still alive, his expectations were always unreasonably high that she couldn't imagine any sort of pride emanating from him.

There were still a few foolhardy young quarians out there whose heads were filled with nothing but dreams, envisioning themselves as part of the board, being an admiral and leading the quarian people on their way to a glorious future, for their choices were always the right ones. A few years ago, that had been Tali's dream. And now it was her nightmare.

Even before Tali laid eyes on the Migrant Fleet, before she knew she would become an admiral, she was living in her own private hell. She dimly remembered the events leading up to her irregular "promotion," through that one tear-filled day. She had trouble recalling when she stopped crying as her feet carried her away from the Normandy, not looking behind her for fear that she would see him behind her in panic, looking to apologize for what he did. Even though she was not actively searching, she knew no one was coming back for her.

How she had ended up on a transport back to the fleet had been lost on her, for she could only see herself reflected in the nearby window, this faceless freak gazing solemnly out into the blackness as she huddled in the darkest corner, still sobbing dryly for her tears had run out hours ago. How could he have been so cruel? How could that…animal…drive her to this?

The distance that Tali's heart had dropped at seeing Shepard filled with anger towards her had stunned her beyond belief. She truly thought that he would have understood the duty she had, to defend her people in trying times when things looked bleak. He would have done the same for humanity, so why shouldn't she be allowed to do this for her own people?

Then that idiot just had to go and get himself arrested after blowing up that damned relay, making the situation all the more delicate. Even after he had completed his mission, Tali knew that there were several paths he could have taken to avoid punishment from the Alliance, but he inexplicably did nothing. He could have killed the guards coming to take him away, stolen a ship and hid on a remote planet, but he just stood there and let them in as if he was welcoming honored guests.

He could have been with her still, but his own misguided sense of duty had led him astray. For that matter, why did he feel compelled to let the Alliance tromp all over him when they had abandoned him when he died above Alchera all those months ago? What right did Shepard have to lecture her about duty when he clearly forgot his own obligations to the woman he claimed to love?

"You made your choice and now it's over!"

Tali shut her eyes in terror as his voice screamed through her, shaking her down to her bones. She gripped the railing of the holodeck tightly, feeling no give from the metal in her grip. Cautiously, she peeked through her slit eyelids and let herself relax ever so slightly.

He's not here, she told herself. Just keep calm, he's not here. He can't hurt you anymore, stop being so foolish.

Sharing the room with her at the moment and posing no threat except to her neural stimulation were the other four admirals: Raan, Koris, Gerrel, and Xen. All were familiar faces to her as they were the original four board members that had presided over her potential banishment, making it somewhat easier for her to adjust to her new climate. Right now, Zaal'Koris was engaged in a debate with Han'Gerrel over the upcoming strategy that merited the declaration of war in the first place. As much as Tali did not want to believe it, the obviousness of the situation was so strong she realized what her promotion was for that it did not need to be spoken out loud.

The quarians were preparing for an all-out assault on the geth, seizing the last chance as the foundations of the galaxy crumbled around them. Yet one more thing Shepard had failed at for her people were clearly not dissuaded from pursuing the objective of retaking their homeworld despite the terrible danger of doing so. Tali could still share his point of view for the most part, but any opposition she attempted to voice during these meetings was an ultimately pointless endeavor. She was just too young and inexperienced to suggest alternative strategies that did not favor immediate attack to have her opinions supported by her peers. Her title was a farce, merely an honorary formality, and her presence in these meetings went practically wasted, spending most of her time just standing in silence unless someone queried her directly.

The voices in the background had been delegated to simple droning at this point, her eyes blurring in and out as Tali struggled to maintain focus. She was seriously considering either falling asleep right here from boredom or exploding at the admirals for pursuing such a stupid course of action, yelling at them until she was gasping for air.

Shepard would have an idea, she thought miserably. That bastard always knew how to deal with people.

"Do not rely on the human for your answers, Tali," Rael'Zorah admonished as he placed a hand on her shoulder, perhaps the first action of affection she could recall from him. She still shut her eyes with her past surrounding her on all sides, desperate to interact with her present. "Remember what I taught you, the only person you can rely on in this galaxy is yourself. Aliens are unable to understand our ways, our culture. I thought I had taught you this."

I know, dad. I know. I should have listened to you. I should have been paying attention.

The hand on her shoulder tightened. "I'm not here to compound your grief, my daughter. You've learned a valuable lesson and that's all there is to the matter. The most effective teacher is life itself and you've learned something you're likely never to forget."

Yes, you're right. I allowed myself to love a human and paid dearly for thinking he loved me back. I'll never make that mistake again. I only wish I had known sooner…

"You handled the situation well, Tali. But I'm still a bit concerned as well. Are you sure that you have completely purged your thoughts of this man entirely? You've been turning back to him with each passing day whenever you are confronted with a problem that has been vexing you."

He won't leave me alone! He's in my head all the time, screaming at me, and I don't know how to make him stop. I want to stop thinking about him, father, but I can't hide myself from him.

Tali looked behind her slightly to see her father's dark visor tip downward in sadness, his hands folded behind his cherry-red suit, fingers toying with the other as he stood deep in thought. "Why not try a different approach? Force yourself to recall the last memory of him and tell me your thoughts on the matter."

I…I don't want to. I don't want to relive that again…

"Are you worried that that glimpse of the true person inside that man would frighten you more and sully the sanctity of that brief relationship? You wanted your bond to be meaningful but from the start it was doomed. I'm afraid a fitting conclusion was never in your future, my daughter."

Tali trembled as she willed herself to look beyond the fog, into the depths where her demons were housed. Things might have been different. Could…could it be that I've made a mistake? Could it be that I should have stayed with him instead of leaving for my people?

"Why would you thnk that?" Rael sounded astonished. "Your place is here, with your people, not sitting in a bare room having intimate relations with that barbarian. As my daughter, you should know better where your duties truly lie. Your destiny is not meant to be shared with him."

As his words resounded within Tali, she peered more intently until a figure burst out of her haze, making her gasp. She saw the human's face, reddened by disgust and malice, as he towered over her, judging her from afar. She saw him open his mouth and out came the horrendous clamor of words that shook her very soul, making her feel weak in the knees and vulnerable, her fear leaving her naked.

Stop! She cried out to no one. Stopstopstopstop! Pleeeeeeaaseeee…stop!

As abruptly as it had started, it ended. She was left all alone on that floor, her surroundings darkened as she sobbed hoarsely, face damp from the rivulets of tears running down it. Rael walked over to her side and limply patted the back of her hand. "Do you think you made a mistake now? Did you really want to be with someone who would treat you so cruelly?"

Tali was too addled to even think clearly anymore, only responding with a ragged intake of breath. No…I don't want to be with him…I hate him…I hate him…I hate him…

"Tali?" A new voice joined her conversation.

Tali opened her eyes as the tan visor of Shala'Raan swiveled in her direction, standing in the spot Rael had occupied in her mind. She now realized that she had sunk down in her chair gradually throughout the meeting, all of her senses rushing back into her in a jumble. Her fingers were still twitching and she felt a little chilly, despite her enviro-suit being environmentally isolated and temperature controlled.

Ignoring the drabble from the two squabbling admirals, Raan knelt down where Tali sat, reaching for her hand and gingerly squeezing it to make sure she was all right. The lack of engagement from the two admirals went unnoticed on Koris and Gerrel, continuing to yell at the other while Xen fiddled with her omni-tool as she waited for the two knuckleheads to come to their senses.

"Child," Raan seemed genuinely worried. "Is something the matter?"

Father was here, she wanted to say. Father was here and he spoke to me. Shepard...Shepard is...

"I…" Tali stammered out. "I…"

Before she could say any more, she was suddenly seized by pain as her stomach and head both twisted in an unbelievable ache, causing her to double over with a cough. Raan drew herself up, alarmed, as she smoothed over the young woman's back, trying to calm her down. "Tali? What is it? What's wrong?"

"You made your choice and now it's over!"

Tali almost screamed out loud for his voice was so thunderous in her ears that it deafened her. She coughed once more and shakily tried to get to her feet, desperately hoping that the cramp in her stomach would evaporate as soon as she got out of this awful room.

"Tali?" Raan inquired, reaching for her as she saw the woman back towards the door. "Where are you going? The meeting's not over!"

"C-Continue without me," Tali sputtered out, clenching her fists as sweat began to bead on her forehead, nausea now accompanying her wrenching discomfort. "I…have to get out of here for a bit."

Before Raan could question her further, she slipped out the door, moving past the guards flanking both sides, coming to attention as she shuffled past. Translucent webs were starting to grow in her vision, as if her visor was becoming obscured from the inside. She made to wipe it off but the fog persisted, blinding her as she stumbled across the dank hallways of the liveship.

"Obviously you didn't love me enough!"

Tali's shoulder hit the nearby wall, causing her to cry out as her side now flared uncomfortably. Accompanying this was a stab of pain that originated near her abdomen, almost causing her to fall as she threw out a hand to grasp onto an oily strut that was attached to the side. Her gloved hands fumbled at the slippery surface but she still maintained her grip, pulling herself back up as her eyes desperately sought the nearest clean room.

The next wave of suffering caused her to shut her eyes, hoping that she would be spared soon enough when she tripped over her own feet and was sent through the nearest door as it opened to her presence. Tali lay sprawled on the ground, hearing the door shut behind her, not knowing if this was a clean room or not. But there was literally no time, she had to act soon.

"I don't want you here anymore."

Tali moaned, her stomach feeling like it was burning as she spasmed once in response, helplessly twitching on the ground. It was a struggle to raise herself on all fours, coughing into her mask and spraying her visor with spit. An awful heat was blooming into her head itself, perhaps her fitting punishment, driving her insane.

"I don't want you here anymore."

Her stomach heaved and Tali gagged, Shepard's voice coming through crystal clear. What had she done to deserve this? Was this enough for him? Would he be satisfied knowing where she was at in her life? This was not right, this was pure cruelty. She…never wanted this.

"I don't want you here ANYMORE!"

Quickly, with a furious velocity, Tali scrambled to locate the clasps to her visor and hurriedly depressed them. She watched it fall away, clattering to the ground, her display glittering back at her wickedly. She pushed the purple covering away to give herself the appropriate room, dimly noticing the effect of the open air on her face but not reflecting on it at the moment. Tali had time to take in a breath of the musty and damp room, the heavy scent of mildew and rust coming to her before she finally retched and threw up.

A/N: While the names of two of the three liveships are known to us, the Ixxma was a name that I fabricated just for the purpose of describing the setting.

At this point, the conditions surrounding our main characters has been established, so I'd like to see what you all make of this. (And it only gets better* from here!)

*Better as in "more interesting," not necessarily "good for the main characters." (Heh...heh)

EDIT: Crap, I should have expected this. Do not take the final paragraph for anything other than grief-related sickness, for those of you about to prepare your inevitable arguments. I understand where some of you have developed your own predictions as to where this will go but this is one potential plot thread that I have to shoot down. Rest assured, I will NOT be pursuing any avenues relating to children between our main characters as that subplot is overly complicated and would resort to me being constrained to cliche after cliche trying to develop it further.