A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews! And thank you for your patience in waiting for my updates. To show my appreciation, here's a long chapter! :)

I also wanted to remind you all that this fic will be following canonical events from ME3. They're just being tweaked for head canon purposes. ^_^;; Just wanted to put that out there so you know what's coming. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!


I blink.

Alenko stares at me, looking befuddled and uncomfortable. "What… what was that?"

"A memory," I reply. I am embarrassed by my outburst – I normally have better control over my solipsism. But beyond that, I find I am irritated. Though the fault was mine, I am inexplicably angry at Alenko for intruding upon a private moment.

"A memory?" he repeats.

"Drell are able to relive moments from their lives simply by recalling them," I explain.

He frowns. "And this was something from your past with Shepard?"

"Yes."

A strange expression comes over Alenko's face, as if conflicted between emotions. Suspicion and confusion war on his countenance. "Are you messing with me or something? Because honestly? It's hard to tell."

I take a slow breath to calm myself before answering. It feels heavy in my lungs. "I apologize. It was a… potent memory. I did not mean for it to slip out."

Alenko nods, seeming to accept my reply. It is several seconds before he speaks again. "Shepard wore a hat?" A small, amused smile creeps across his face.

I feel the corners of my mouth turn upward despite myself. "And a dress."

"A dress, huh?" he says, chuckling. "I'd have liked to see that." He starts, becoming visibly flustered. "I mean… because it's not something she usually wears – she's always in armor, you know – not because… well, not that I wouldn't, but…"

"I understood, Major," I interrupt, saving him from further embarrassment.

He exhales sharply. "Right, okay." He shifts in his chair. "I should go. They're releasing me tomorrow, and the Doc said something about doing some final checks on my implant." He stands and turns towards the door.

"Major Alenko."

He stops in the doorway and looks back at me. "Yeah?"

I hesitate a moment before continuing. "I am no longer able to protect Shepard as I'd like. Further, my time is short."

Alenko nods, and waits for me to finish.

"She has a monumental task before her." I look him in the eye. "Guard her back, so she may keep her eyes forward."

He nods again, his eyes resolute. "I will," he says, and departs.

ooo

When I wake the next morning, I am instantly aware of another presence in the room. At first, I am alarmed – more so at having slept through the entrance of an intruder than by the intruder herself. As an assassin, one is taught to sleep lightly, for enemies strike when one is most at ease. I worry that my months in the hospital have made me complacent. Yet, I relax at the familiarity of the visitor's presence, even without opening my eyes. The careful shift of her body in the chair, the steady rhythm of her breath in the silence.

"Siha," I murmur, my voice cloudy from slumber. I open my eyes. She sits beside me, the room still dim in the early morning light.

"Thane," she says, looking up from the datapad she was reading. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

I shake my head. I open my mouth to speak, but a few rasping coughs come up instead. I try again. "You're here sooner than I expected."

She smiles. "Yeah, we got into port a couple hours ago, and I couldn't sleep. My internal clock is a little screwed up. I've been on three different planets in the last two days clearing out Cerberus outposts while Mordin works on the genophage cure." She places her hand over mine. It is warm and lightly callused, toughened by years of handling weaponry. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday," I tell her. I smile. "Infinitely so, now that you are here."

Her smile widens. "Look at you. Awake less than five minutes and already sweet talking."

"You have been gone a while," I reply. "I must stay in practice."

"Uh-huh," she murmurs, humoring me. There is a small bag sitting by her feet. She picks it up. "Brought you something."

I adjust the incline of the bed so that I am able to sit upright comfortably. She hands me the bag and I look inside. I smile. "Tea."

"It's green tea with Thessian mint and lemon," she says, looking pleased. "Your favorite, right?"

I nod. "It is."

"I know how particular you are, so I even brought you an infuser," she says, pointing to the mesh cup at the bottom of the bag.

I am touched by her thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Siha. This is most considerate." Another fit of coughing overtakes me.

Her eyes are concerned, and she shifts in her chair uncomfortably. Something troubles her. "So, I… I asked Mordin to look at your file, and at the hanar research on Kepral's Syndrome."

My brow rises. "Oh?"

She nods. "He said he'd look into it in his free time." She gives a faint chuckle. "He considers it a break from his genophage work."

"Thank you," I say, frowning, "but you should not get your hopes too high." I squeeze her hand. "The doctors say I am deteriorating quickly. Doctor Solus may not have enough time to work with."

"I know," she replies softly. "Mordin said as much too. 'A long shot', he called it. But… I had to try. Something, anything. You know me. When someone says something can't be done, it just makes me try harder to prove them wrong."

"You are a stubborn individual," I tell her fondly.

"That I am." She manages a small smile.

We talk for a time. The room lightens as the Citadel fills with morning light. Siha tells me about the krogan female they rescued from Sur'Kesh. Having never met a krogan woman before, I was intrigued by Siha's descriptions of her quiet dignity and understated strength. "You are not so different," I say. "Her people have placed great responsibility on her shoulders. They trust her with their hopes and futures. It's the same with you."

Shepard nods. "She said something similar, yeah."

The door opens. My son walks in, preoccupied with a datapad he carries with him. "Father," he says without looking up. "I have a free day, so if you're-" He looks up, startled by Shepard's presence. "Commander Shepard," he greets, recovering quickly. "Father mentioned you were no longer incarcerated. I don't know if you remember me…"

Siha stands and smiles warmly. "Kolyat. Of course I remember you. How are you?"

Kolyat returns her smile. "Quite well, thanks in part to you."

She shakes her head. "Whatever I did was months ago. Your successes since then are all yours. Your dad said you work for C-Sec now. You should be proud."

The blue in my son's cheeks deepens; he is blushing. "It's just a desk job, really."

"He is being modest," I interject. "He liaises with the Citadel orphans, keeping them out of trouble and finding them safe places to stay. In return, they provide him with information."

"That sounds like important work," Siha says.

Kolyat nods. "I've found it to be very rewarding."

My chest constricts. The sound of coughing fills the room. "Kolyat," I say as I recover. "You were saying something when you came in?"

He nods again and holds up the datapad in his hand. "I read that the hanar embassy is hosting a small ceremony on the Presidium. They will induct the few drell children living on the station into the Compact. I have a free day today. If you are feeling well enough, perhaps you'd like to go?" He pauses, glancing at Siha. "Commander Shepard, you're welcome to come too, if you're interested." Yet again, he hesitates. "Oh… unless you two had plans already. I don't want to intrude."

"Don't be silly," Shepard says. "I'd love to go."

After days confined to my hospital room, I am eager to leave as well. The nurses provide me with medicine, and a portable oxygen tank and mask in case I need them. Kolyat leaves as Siha helps me dress.

"My first family outing," she muses. Her voice is touched by lilting delight. "I've never been on one before."

I smile. "It is my first in a long time as well."

We join Kolyat in the Patient's Lounge and take the elevator to the Presidium. The gardens bustle with desperate activity, even at this early hour. People of all races speak too loudly, or too softly, with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. They are the voices and motions of the frightened, too afraid even to acknowledge their fear. We stroll between them, our pace set by the rise and fall of my already overtaxed lungs. There are so many smiles; some genuine, some forced. They cling to the joy that might soon be gone. I look to Siha and Kolyat, conversing amiably about his work. My lips thin to a line. Perhaps I cling to my joy as well.

There is a small crowd of hanar gathered by the edge of one of the lakes. Paper decorations resembling fish and seaweed and coral hang from a canopy erected over a small dais. Three small drell children stand under the canopy, shifting from one foot to the other in nervous anticipation. Two hanar stand next to them, speaking together in dim patterns of light.

Siha sees me watch them. "Do you know what they're saying?"

I nod. "Most of it. It is difficult to see it all from here. The hanar on the left is lamenting that they could not hold the ceremony in the lake. The other is explaining that the lake is too shallow for the traditional dances anyway."

"Somehow I imagined hanar speech would look brighter."

"Normally, it would. They are whispering."

Kolyat points to the lines of chairs arranged by the dais. "I think we can watch the ceremony from there."

We take seats at the rear of the gathering as the ceremony begins. The children are dressed in colorful costumes, ready to perform a play re-enacting the salvation of the drell by the hanar. I smile. A brief flash of Kolyat's ceremony many years ago flits across my memory. He wore yellow, his blue face nearly as green as mine with nervousness. I turn my gaze towards him. He is smiling as well, and I wonder if he recalls his ceremony with as much fondness as I do.

"Oh, look!" Siha exclaims in a whisper. A few hanar children glide onto the stage, acting as the saviors of the drell. "I've never seen a hanar child before. Do they usually participate in this ceremony?"

I shake my head. "On Kahje, there are many more drell children taking their oaths into the Compact. The hanar are played by costumed drell, so each child has a part."

The children play their roles with exuberance and melodrama, the drell bickering amongst themselves over food and water until the hanar arrive. Small voices fill the air, shouting their gratitude to the hanar who saved them. Siha sits in rapt attention, her arm linked around mine, her head resting comfortably on my shoulder. She does not mind the small string of coughs that ripple up my chest, but instead smiles and laughs as she watches the children finish their play and begin to dance. And for the first time in weeks, I feel as if I am not sick at all. I seem to forget – for a moment – that there is anything else, besides me and my family and the sound of tiny dancing feet.

Naturally, this is the time Kalahira chooses to remind me: she has claimed me as hers.

My chest constricts. I attempt to stifle the coughing, the gasps for breath, but my efforts only serve to aggravate it. Shepard and Kolyat look at me, eyes full of concern, while the other people gathered here stare in alarm and judgment. The other drell know what I suffer from. They know what lies ahead for me, as it may be in their futures as well. There is sympathy in their gazes, but today is meant to be joyous occasion. They do not wish to be reminded of it today. I should not have come.

I stagger to my feet, already unsteady and lightheaded. Siha and Kolyat rise as well. My son stares daggers at the onlookers while supporting me with one arm. Siha pays no mind to the others. Instead, she ushers me gently away from the gathering to a quiet spot in the grass under the shade of a tree.

She presses the oxygen mask into my hand. My hands shake as I slip it over my head and onto my face. I breathe in as deeply as possible. It is not enough. Kolyat hovers over me with his hand on my shoulder as Siha fills a syringe with medicine.

"Kolyat," she says, her voice calm. She injects the medicine into my arm. "Could you get us some water, please?"

My son looks at her, frowning, then back at me. Finally, he nods. "I will be back shortly."

I watch him leave. "Perhaps… I should not… have come," I say between gasping breaths.

I feel Siha's hand on my face as she turns my head to face her. "And miss this beautiful day?"

I shake my head. "I… disrupted… the ceremony."

Her grey eyes are gentle and full of affection. "That's not your fault," she says, stroking the ridges on the side of my face. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone deserves to go out and live a little, even you. Especially you. You shouldn't be cooped up in the hospital all the time. And if people have a problem with that, to hell with them."

I do not reply at once. I cannot. Frustration at myself, at my situation, boils in my gut. "I wish to… I do not want to be there, Siha," I tell her through gasps and gritted teeth. "But my… my body is not under my control… After all my training…" My hands clench in the grass. "Years of work… I neglected my family… All for nothing… My body is… no longer my own."

"Hey, listen to me." Her voice suddenly sounds as if it is made of steel. "I know you're angry. But you can handle this. There are some things you can't control. And that's okay. You don't have to. You're not alone anymore. Kolyat and I are with you. So let go. We've got this."

I take her in for a moment. The gentleness of her eyes has subsided, replaced by that familiar storm. "…I love you," I tell her. I can think of nothing else to say. I pray it conveys all of my gratitude, the depth of my emotion for her.

She appears satisfied and takes both my hands in hers. "Come on, I'll help you meditate for a while. Maybe it'll help your breathing?"

I nod. "Yes… perhaps."

"Close your eyes," she intones, her voice slow and calming. I comply. "Clear your mind of all thoughts. Breathe in… and out…"

I listen to the rhythm and cadence of her voice. I concentrate on my struggling breaths. Her words wash over me. I am lost in them.