II. Homecoming

With a shuddering heave, the final links connecting the mid-section of the massive, ancient ship disengaged. Bulkheads slammed down across the gap, sealing the divide. The engines on the forward fins, designed for just such an emergency, fired into life and tore the newly independent vessel free with a stomach-wrenching lurch.

As those engines bore the little shuttle out of the gravity well, the rest of the stricken ship began to slowly drift away, dragged down by the dull, dead weight of the broken Reaper that still clung to its side like a monstrous parasite.

Shepard stared at the old comm screen, the bulk of the dying ship painfully visible in the viewport behind it even as their shuttle raced towards freedom, and tried to find something to say. She was interrupted by the familiar hiss of clasps released from combat armor.

"Tali! Wait, your suit---"

"What does it matter now? I wanted to see you, just once, with my own eyes." The engineer shrugged. "I guess this will have to be good enough."

Behind her, dozens of lights turned towards the screen, almost blinding Shepard before her eyes could adjust. The geth were turning towards their savior, attention fixed upon the face of the first living, breathing quarian to stand before them, unafraid, since their awakening centuries ago. The first quarian to acknowledge their rights as equals, the first to attempt to heal the rift with their makers.

Amidst the silent circle of watchers, Tali'Zorah nar Lenya lifted her mask, letting unfiltered air touch her skin for the first and last time. Her stance spoke of trepidation and uncertainty as she turned back towards the screen, and it was long moments before she raised her head to meet Shepard's eyes.

The audio was gone now, a fizzle of static across the speakers. Shepard certainly didn't know enough about quarian voice to pick out the words from movement alone, but the question was clear enough. Over their long association she had learned to read this quarian's body language and moods, both human and not: a thousand little differences, a hundred little things the same.

Even though it wouldn't matter to the girl in the monitor, Shepard was proud that she managed to keep her voice steady as she carefully enunciated her words, knowing that the image was still clear enough to read the lip movements.

"You're beautiful, Tali."