0305 Normandy Shuttle Bay

"Hey, Loco, isn't that a little heavier than what you normally pack?"

"What's wrong, Vega, you scared mine's bigger?"

"I'm just wondering what's with the mobile turret and the hand-held artillery piece is all."

Shepard looked over his back as he stood near the shuttle, glancing over the geth pulse rifle and black widow rifle he had strapped to his back, a slight smile coming over his face.

"Cerberus is one of those blunt force kind of enemies, Vega. So, I packed some blunt force."

"I'll say."

While normally preferring to pack the N7 line of weapons – the Valkyrie giving him a great deal of precision for an assault rifle and the Valiant's speed and lack of recoil a great benefit – as far as he could tell this wasn't exactly going to be a mission which called for the finesse these weapons allowed, instead more likely requiring the incredible fire rate and stopping power of his current kit. Plus, sometimes I just really like playing with big guns…

He climbed onto the shuttle after Javik and Garrus both climbed on, the door sliding shut smoothly behind him and the shuttle going through a slight jolt as it undocked from its harness within the ship. He turned to face the marines inside, the shuttle a little more cramped with nine combatants in it, but nothing it couldn't handle.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we've gotten some more intel since our last brief. Traynor and T'Soni have been able to make contact with the STG team, and from what they've been told the team has suffered heavy casualties. We're heading for the main group, the other shuttle going to pick up any stragglers. Apparently they've been working with some research data the Asari had here regarding husk sensory systems, so we may be fighting for a better ground-weapon against the Reapers.

"As soon as we hit the ground, Vakarian, Javik and I are going to go and find their leader and begin coordinating their movements with ours. Vega, I want your men to post security around us and render any medical aid needed by the Salarians. Stabilization only, no need to get fancy. Got it?"

"I gotcha, Loco. Crossman, you and first team take the north semi-circle. You're cleared to engage the enemy as soon as he shows his ugly ass face, but be sure to let us know when you do. Benning, send Ramirez in with his medical supplies and then post your team on the south end, I'll fill in his spot. Try not to get too excited. We good, Marines?"

"Oorah, Sir."

James laughed slightly as he strapped his helmet on, double checking the seal and knocking his head roughly twice. The man took up at least a person and a half's space in the cramped shuttle when fully outfitted with his armor and weapons, the embodiment of a human tank.

"Excelente, that's what I like to hear right there!"

Thirty minutes later, the shuttle door opened to whipping wind and driving rain, mud greeting Shepard's boot as it hit the ground. He, Javik and Garrus stepped out almost calmly, seven Marines streaming out with practiced speed behind them, quickly forming into a full circle around the trio. The shuttle took off and they were left only with the sound of the storm over head.

They had landed in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tall carniferous trees that looked similar to what Earth had sported, except for their soft-blue trunks and veins. The ground was covered with a mossy underbrush that almost resembled grass, if not being a little broader and got larger at the top of the leaves rather than thinner; tall bushes occasionally punctuating the clearing.

As they stepped forwards, Shepard could hear Javik's voice over the radio, a slight ping indicating he was on a private channel.

"It would appear our Salarian friends missed the landing, Commander."

"You think we should throw them out the airlock?"

"I think we should be cautious – a team such as theirs would not so casually miss a rendezvous."

Shepard scanned the landscape and saw a bush twitch the opposite direction of the wind, a small smile spreading over his face.

"Don't be so certain they've missed it, Javik."

Shepard made for the bush, beating against the rain which ran down his visor, the hydrophobic substance stopping any from sticking but still not preventing the mild view obstruction. As he got within three feet of the bush, it rustled more and a familiar figure seemed to stand up out of nowhere.

"Commander. Glad to see you here, I had hoped to work with you again."

"Major Kirrahe?"

"Indeed."

"What are you doing out here?"

"After your success at saving our councilor on The Citadel, my government underwent a change of heart. We had gotten word of some Asari research here, and were sent to pick it up. Unfortunately, Cerberus seems to have learned of our mission."

"How long have you been here?"

"Almost three weeks now, most of it spent decoding the Asari data. Cerberus showed up about a week ago, nasty business. Heavy casualties."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Where's the rest of your team? Our shuttle took off, but we have a medic here and can begin evacuation as soon as possible."

With that, the Major gave a sound which sounded an odd cross between a whistle and a yell, clearly a sound no human vocal cords could make. From the trees surrounding the bush, six more Salarian soldiers seemed to drop out of thin air, landing with wet splashes and too surprised cries from Shepard's Marines.

Kirrahe gestured at the soldiers. "After our combat with Cerberus, this is about all we have left. Your other team is headed to team three, they have about four men and are hiding out a few clicks south."

Shepard was confused, counting up the men. Liara said their team shipped out with fifty-something salarians, and now these nine are all that's left?

"Major, our intel said you had fifty-something-odd soldiers when you left. Are you sure there's no more of you?"

Kirrahe bowed his head, shaking it slightly, his voice sad, but still the measured professional tone Shepard had come to expect.

"We had fifty five, yes. We were unprepared when Cerberus hit, wave after wave of troops. We weren't outfitted for combat, Commander, the majority of our personnel are listed as "back-up combatants". Against the kinds of numbers they brought to bear, we suffered high casualties."

Shepard shook his head, anger boiling low in his stomach. I know we've been losing troops bad but… this is terrible. Eighty percent casualty rate? That's not combat, that's slaughter. This war needs to end, Cerberus needs to end. I'm getting real tired of them getting the jump on us.

"Alright, we'll call the shuttle in, get evac set up."

Shepard's comms crackled to life, Cortez's voice coming over amidst the static and what sounded like cannon fire.

"That's going to be a little hard, Commander."

"Cortez? What's your status?"

"Encountered Cerberus resistance overhead, they brought fighters." His report paused, canon fire sounding over the comms. "I can swing by in a little bit, but I have to take care of these guys first. I'm tracking hostiles coming your way, stay sharp."

"Sir! We've got contact?"

The four standing in the center ducked as bullets began to fly, Javik, Garrus, and Shepard running over towards the North end of their security perimeter, seeing a continuous line of Cerberus troopers through the trees.

"South-end, contacts?"

"Yes, sir! Looks like we're surrounded."

Shit. Really what I wanted here, a firefight with a full platoon of Cerberus troops. Really just, peachy.

"Alright. Javik, we need cover. Can you do some special Prothean biotic thing to those trees?"

Shepard looked at Javik and saw him raise an eye, clearly not approving of "Prothean biotic thing".

"It will be done."

Three of the trees glowed with Javik's unique green biotic signature, being torn from their stumps and laid down in a triangle centered in the clearing.

"Take cover!"

Immediately the Marines and Salarians scrambled to take cover, the rain of fire that Cerberus was now raining upon them hitting their cover with muted thuds. Shepard expanded his sniper rifle, pulling it up and scoping down the forward-most trooper, his shot leaving the once-walking man a headless corpse. To his left he could hear Garrus' Javelin fire, Javik's ancient beam rifle firing behind him and to his right.

Garrus' voice came over the coms.

"You know, I was hoping to work on my target practice."

"I think I prefer it when the targets don't shoot back at me."

"That's because you're still an amateur, Shepard."

"Bold words, Vakarian. You gunning for a re-match on the Presidium?"

"What, so we can crown a new king of the bottle-shooters? Nah, I'm good."

Shepard heard James call out over the comm.

"They're dropping more behind us, looks like they've got some Centurians too."

Shepard fired his rifle again, the powerful report matching another helmet-explosion down range, another body crumpling without its head. To his right he saw another flash of green-biotics as a few of the Cerberus troopers flew backwards, one snapping against a tree with a sickening crunch.

Shepard dropped beneath the tree as a response of shots impacted the strange wood with muted thuds, the impacts causing the wood to glow slightly around the impact spot. As he dropped, he looked around to monitor the rest of the group, take stock of the surroundings. Vega's Marines had all taken cover behind the trunks and were working to repel the attack, calling out to each other as they fired and let loose their grenades, their training becoming evident in the combat. The Salarians were inter-mixed with them, not fighting with the same brutal efficiency but still throwing overloads and energy-drains with incredible rapidity. The hell of battle melted away into a confusing collage of bullets and targets and hits and misses, the lethal rhythm of combat settling in as all their minds steeled themselves against the conflict, all their bodies becoming weapons, a single machine built and shaped and designed for war.

It's going to be a long night.

1000 Normandy Shuttle Bay

It had all ended poorly. As far as the war was concerned, the struggle against forces which would see all life destroyed and civilization shredded, the battle was minor, the losses acceptable. As far as the galaxy was concerned, only a few men had been lost, but a valuable piece of information recovered and a brilliant STG Major recovered to lead another team, the only losses a few replaceable soldiers who knew the risks when they signed up. As far as the "greater picture" was concerned, just like Hackett had told Shepard over the comm five hours ago, he should have been pleased that they retrieved the information without greater losses. But as far as Shepard was concerned, it ended poorly. Too poorly.

The teams had ended up remaining holed in their tree-cover for upwards of an hour, holding on with too few thermal clips against too many enemies, the STG team losing three more men and two Marines dying in the process. When Cortez had finally managed to make it to the landing zone, his shuttle was beaten and battered, the door screeching and the kinetic barriers fizzling as the dead and wounded were loaded on by the tired and weary. By the time they made it back to The Normandy, she had finished her discharge and their evacuation from the system was speedy to say the least, the practiced crew exiting the area with extreme efficiency.

They lost one more Marine in sick bay as his internal organs failed, one by one, fear apparent in his eyes as the medical beds screamed their mournful tone and Doctor Chackwas, the black under her eyes growing incrementally larger, shook her head at the still armored and grimy and bloody commander. He had retreated numbly to his stateroom, the loss of those men weighing heavily as more losses seen on a personal degree, the tragedy of three bringing light the magnitude of trillions. He had changed. He had reported. And then life performed its cruelest trick of all: it kept on. Despite the body bags stored in cryo-boxes in the cargo-bay, life kept on. Despite the data he reviewed with tired and empty eyes, his heart closed off from the loss, it kept on. Despite all the pain and anger and resentment and anger that coursed through him in waves at the thought of IF I had only gotten their earlier and If I had told them to keep their head down and How will I ever write their family, it kept on.

Until Shepard decided it wouldn't.

The order had come out at approximately 0830: Burial Away at 1000, a small honor for all those lost amidst the tragedy suffered. A small way of making sure life did not keep on as Shepard and his Normandy stopped to observe their dead, to recognize their sacrifice and let it steel their hearts towards their greater goal; as they stopped to let friends and brothers and sons drift into oblivion peacefully, with recognition of a civilization not burning around them nor crumbling from inside. This was the funeral, technically, for three Marines. But it was so much more.

The containment field at the end of the cargo bay shone an eery blue within the lit chamber as Shepard walked in front of the congregation, his dress shoes echoing loudly amidst the almost-empty room. With the ship left in the hands of EDI, the entire crew was present, those who had them donned in their dress blues and everybody else in solemn faces, formed by divisions behind three simple now-black cargo containers containing their comradres. Behind them, in a single line, stood Liara and Garrus and Tali and Javik, as well as all the Salarians from Chalkhos, all in respectful silence as they mentally paid their respects to the fallen in their own ways, prayers and blessings and farewells of lost traditions and far-away languages.

Shepard centered himself in front of the formation, smartly facing around. His eyes watered slightly under the brim of his cover, but the shadow hid them as his voice rang out with crisp precision.

"All hands, bury the dead!"

From the back of the outer formations, with drill-like precision, nineteen Marines and Crewmen in polished hardsuits stepped towards the front, seven more with rifles and one without following, as Shepard faced again, looking straight ahead into the void in front of him, the star the Normandy was now orbiting shining brightly still through the polarizing field placed over the bay.

Eighteen Marines and Crewmen picked up the three caskets, marching them solemnly forwards through the field onto the ramp, the cargo bay becoming increasingly silent as they entered the vacuum, the nineteenth stopping behind the three evenly spaced, his hand raised as they all looked at them. To Shepard's left, the seven armed Marines stopped and stood at attention, the eighth at their flank, facing down the line.

Once again, Shepard's voice rang out, strong and steady.

"Ready, Salulte!"

At the command, the nineteenth man outside let his arm down, the three caskets being cast into the sun in front of them, drifting slowly as their bearers came to attention and drew to a salute, just as the assembled crew behind them did as well, all hands stiff and backs straight as they watched their comrades drift towards the fiery star. The firing team's commander could be heard issuing commands, softer but with no less authority, as seven rifles came up in unison, loaded in unison, aimed in unison.

Fired in unison.

Again.

Again.

As the sound of the last volley faded from the room, the salutes fell and Shepard heard a strange sound originate from the back. His training withstanding amidst such ceremony, he faced about again to find himself watching Javik, centered across from him in the formation and with all his eyes closed, singing. The song was unearthly, the Prothean's voices splitting into three tones in a way Shepard had never heard before, fluctuating and harmonizing with each other in truly unknown ways. And yet, the chords resonated, the sound and winding melody of the song sat within every human, Turian, Asari, and Quarian brain as vaguely familiar, a memory lost to dreams of evolutionary childhood.

The alien song grew to fill the bay, all listening as its open chords and repetitive phrases pushed the caskets forwards, towards their fiery end, power and honor and sacrifice echoing through the notes. Slowly, the song came to a close, and Javik looked at the commander, opening his eyes, speaking for all to hear.

"In my cycle, our fallen warriors were honored with that song as they were commended from this world to the next. It was said that the song came from a soldier in a long ago battle who fought in what would become the unifying wars of the Prothean Empire. It was sung only for those warriors who fought with strength and courage against our enemies, a gift of peace for the dead as they left their wars to the living."

As he looked at him, Javik nodded at Shepard, the gesture returned as the Commander realized what an honor had been given to the men whom they were laying to rest. He cleared his throat, preparing to deliver his own speech.

As he began to speak, he removed his hat, holding it in front of him and bowing his head slightly, his voice filling the room but seeming soft, intense, almost intimate to all who heard him.

"In honorable service and sacrifice to The Alliance, we commend these three servicemen to this star, laying them to rest amidst the space they served in and tendering our farewells to the comrades we knew. In the tradition of the sailors to which our service owes so many of our traditions, the bodies are cast off of the ships they served on in life. They are cast into a star, thrown to the creators of matter in this galaxy, that their bodies may be consumed and returned to later life; from ashes to ashes, from dust to dust."

He took a breath, steadying himself for the more personal part to come, bowing his head as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly out his mouth, raising his head to look into the eyes of the crew assembled before him.

"We all knew these men, good men, fine Marines. They were among the first to join us when we left Earth, fought hard at every opportunity, if only to keep their own morale up. I think I can speak for all of us when I say I never heard a complaint from any of them, always prepared to do what had to be done."

John took another breath, scraping his mind for the right words, his eyes darting around the room before fixating on Tali, who nodded in his direction, her sad smile beneath the mask remaining unnoticed by all but him.

Shepard continued.

"There is… nothing, I could ever say, to do justice to these men. I could talk about their dedication to The Alliance and their fellow Marines, but it would never describe the true brotherhood they held. I could go on and on about their quality of character, as men and Marines, but it would never do their true integrity justice. We could stand here until the galaxy burned, and I would never be able to do justice to those three men."

Shepard gestured behind him to the caskets which had since become dots against the vast back ground of the star.

"But instead, I am going to make you a pledge. Instead, I am going to say this: I, we, will make sure that these men did not die in vain. They died defending information which will help us defeat the reapers, against an enemy we should never have to fight, and we will ensure that enemy is vanquished. They died trying to find a better tomorrow, for all of us, and we will make sure that world becomes a reality. They died to give us the chance to finish this fight, and we will do so."

Shepard's voice had risen to an impassioned yell, and as he stopped he found himself short of breath, looking at the waiting, now hopeful faces of the crew in front of him, the grief of this tragedy not vanquished but rather appended with a new vigor and hope in the fight. He continued, softer, so much so that his team in the back almost could not hear him, but nevertheless the intensity of passion and intent was clear to every body present.

"I can never do these men justice, not in their farewell. I can never properly summarize and say farewell to such complex and loved and honored men as these. But, crewmates, shipmates: I can, and we will, make sure that it was not for nothing."

As he finished, Shepard looked to check the dots, watching them approach closer and closer to the sun, receiving a subtle hand signal from the captain of the honor guard. He turned back to the crew in front of him, his voice stronger, more solemn, ceremonial.

"In accordance to the heritage shared by maritime and Alliance services, and in honor of our fallen, we will now play 'For Those in Peril on the Sea' as they are consumed by the star. The ceremony is over, you are free to go about your business. Dismissed!"

As Shepard finished, the speakers in the cargo bay began to play the hymn, the instrumental echoing throughout the chamber, finding resonance where the industrial speakers could give none, a depth granted by the size of the room. Upon the final order, the strict formations dissolved, but many of them stayed, well aware that The Normandy was not scheduled to depart for another 10 hours. They mingled and coalesced, collecting closer to the field, speaking in hushed voices of friends lost and griefs reminded. Shepard stepped forwards towards the field, letting the music wash over him as his eyes began to lose sight of the three dots, even his vision enhancements losing the three bodies amidst the vastness of the star. According to tradition, the recording would be cut the moment all three bodies were lost on Radar, signifying the end of the service and the true departure of the men.

This left, Tali walked up and took his hand, squeezing it as she rubbed against his arm.

"You okay?"

"How can I be, Tali? We just lost three more men. Good men. Good men to a bad godamned war."

Tali squeezed his hand again as she heard the bitterness in his voice, watched the grief in his eyes leaking into his tear as one escaped slowly from his left eye and ran down his cheek, his lower lip trembling. She spoke softly, close to him, attempting reassurance as best she could.

"They knew what they signed up for, John, they knew what they fought for. I saw the report, saw the footage, there was nothing you could have done."

"There's always more I could have done."

"No, John, not this time. But you were right, there is more we can do: we can end this damn fight. We can put them to rest when Cerberus is a smoking crater on some godforsaken planet."

"That's not enough, Tal, that's not enough."

At that, Tali took her hand out of John's, grasping his shoulders and turning him to face her, putting her hands on the side of his face and angling it down to look at her. His eyes darted back and forth, searching her mask as she spoke, looking deeply into his, seeing his grief and insecurity.

"There was a man, one I admire and love deeply, who told me on Rannoch that the best way for me to do justice by all those who died to get us Rannoch was to keep fighting for them. That man, John, is one of the most dedicated, determined, and best men I've ever known, he had good advice. I think you should follow it."

John smiled weakly as he looked at her, bending his forehead down to tap hers, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Maybe he's got a point."

As he finished, the music cut, abruptly, at the end of a strain, John closing his eyes and exhaling as he bid farewell once more to three more casualties in the growing sea of Despair. Tali pulled him in for a hug, and he returned, squeezing her tightly as he let his heart settle from the new home it had found in his throat. Major Kirrahe approached, maintaining a respectful distance while John composed himself and Shepard looked up.

"Major?"

"Good ceremony, Commander, I enjoyed the Alliance's rituals, they seem exceptionally appropriate. Either way, I have a message from an old friend to give to you. I was told to deliver it in case he was ever deceased, but when I learned about the incident we were operating dark."

Major Kirrahe held out a small data disk which Shepard took and held up to the light, examining it as the Major bowed his head slightly at Shepard and Tali in turn, and then quickly left.

"What do you think it is, John?"

"I more want to know who it's from."

1045 Normandy Deck 1

As Shepard put the data disk into the terminal, a familiar visage made itself clear on the screen, the speech beginning quickly as John (sitting in the chair) and Tali (Resting the bottom of her helmet lightly on top of his head) both caught their hearts in their throats.

"Shepard, recording this in event that I do not survive war, likely, but still hopeful. Time spent with you on Collectors best in recent years, felt relevant again, chance to make progress, atone perhaps, still no regrets. Wanted to give gift to you in return, gesture of thanks. Was aware you and Ms. Zorah became intimate during Collector mission, made gift for both really, Ms. Zorah avid conversationalist and enjoyable colleague during work. Had free time when back with STG, accessed old datalog files regarding genophage, applied to Quarian immunology, promising results. Data and serum instructions in data disk as well as predictions, still just theoretical and best suited for one Quarian, but easily modified to fit entire population. Work felt right, Quarians suffered much at hands of biology, wanted to stop that. Plus, it had to be me: someone else might have gotten it wrong."

Mordin paused for what felt like the first time in an hour as Tali and John both blinked away tears, both at seeing their friend again and hearing of his progress. As the smile left his face, Mordin continued at a much slower pace, this clearly the more emotional portion of his recording, a subject which he did not tackle with the same eccentric enthusiasm he did his science.

"War is… monstrous, in scope, Shepard, so many dead. Heard about Earth, so sorry, wish more could be done. Not pretty, to put it lightly. Doubtful I will survive, too many risks, too many repayments to make. Wanted you to know that… comments on Genophage during mission were hurtful, emotional even, I reacted out of pride and insecurity. But thought has… helped me see situation more clearly, and wanted to thank-you. Came to realize situation too large, too many variables, decision sound given scope of consideration but scope was perhaps… limited. Thank-you, Commander."

With that, the message ended, both John and Tali openly crying, as the screen began to display a massive file directory, full of simulations and descriptions, pages of notes and compounds. Tali reached around John and scrolled through it, reaching a file titled "Treatment Plan Conclusion", opening it and reading softly out loud.

"Epigenetic and genetic treatments on five month plan at regular doses predict 57% recovery of auto-immune functionality. Result is subject capable of survival outside suit with bio-chemical decontamination cycles every 27 hours, similar to current toxin filters. Full recovery estimated within 2 years of beginning treatment."

As Tali finished, silence rang through the room as they both stared at the data and considered what they both read.

A hope for my people to be out of our masks in two years? Completely? The Geth have been helping but, Keelah, nothing like this. Our entire race could have been saved and returned to our state before the Morning War in a matter of months…

Tali sank slowly into John's lap, the shock of both the news and the message from the dead weakening her knees as her mind reeled with the consequences.

We could be like everybody else. We could wear clothes. Our children could climb trees and mountains and run and play. We wouldn't need bubbles for the little ones, our faces would be common… I could touch John, kiss him whenever I wanted…

John spoke first, quietly, stunned. Tali's response was similar as he subconsciously stroked her back.

"Mordin…"

"Yeah."

"Even after he's been dead for… months."

"Keelah, this war…"

John turned to the terminal, touching the screen as his eyes welled up again and the tears continued, his voice cracking.

"Thank-you, Mordin. You're right, someone else… someone…"

As John's voice crack, Tali finished, wrapping her arm around him and squeezing.

"Someone else might have gotten it wrong."

After a few deep breaths, John spoke again, his voice high and strained with emotion, mild confusion but utter thankfulness sharing the grief of earlier events, exhaustion overcoming him.

"With stuff like this… Losing those three… gaining this… Mordin helping us even after he died… Tali, this war needs to end. We need to end this."

Tali stood up, guiding John to the bed as she did so, to which he gave her a confused look.

"Come on, hon, you need to get to bed. It's been a rough couple of days, and you've earned some rest."

"But it's 1100 and I'm supposed to be up with Bravo shift…"

"Garrus is still up, and I'm sure they'll understand."

"But…"

"No. Bed. Now."

Tali's voice was soft but firm as she helped him get undressed, pulling the covers up as she guided him under, quickly removing her cloth and joining him.

"It's been a long day, you need to get to bed."

John began to sit up, still protesting, to which Tali chuckled and pushed him gently back down.

"Tali, I only ran one mission, and I still have work to do."

"Even if you have physical things to do, today has been emotionally exhausting, for all of us. I did some reading on human psychology, remember to help with your… dreams, and all of it said that Humans need a good night's rest to properly deal with this level of emotional flux. John, even I want to go to sleep, and I'm Quarian. It takes way more to make us try to sleep emotionally."

John began to protest, listing a long list of need-to-do's and should-do's and have-to's as Tali sat there and listened for about thirty seconds, laughing mentally as he kept talking and listing right over the sound of her helmet seals disengaging, stopping only when he felt her lips upon his.

That got him quiet fast.

She pulled away tenderly, smiling at him.

"Goodnight, John."

"God you're beautiful."

"Goodnight."

Author's Notes

So, first of all, I want to say sorry for taking so long on this. And the previous chapter. Because I'm a college student, I thought this summer was going to be pretty easy on time and I would have time enough to write a lot of chapters and get a new one up every day or so, but I've recently started working close to a full work-week, and so my time to write has been drastically shortened. Combine that with a killer cold for the past few days (which completely noodled my writing, I wrote this chapter once before and then trashed it because it was so bad and cheesy, well, moreso than normal) and you've got a string of delays. Either way, anticipate chapters coming out about once a week now. Sorry , at least I have money!

This chapter covers a few things I've wanted to deal with for a while. First of all, I took a crack at combat, so that was… interesting, hopefully it wasn't too skimpy. We'll see if I write more of it. Second of all, we got to see a Reaper-War funeral, something I've always kind of wondered about but we never see (since NPC's never go on missions), but was also a good way to bring the realities of the war out (see what I did there?). so I got to make up some burial rituals, clearly it's based off of a Naval Burial at Sea. And finally, we got to play a bit with Mordin and Javik.

I've always pictured Javik as having a soft spot for warriors. Well, not so much as a soft spot. But a mutual respect for them. He entered this cycle and states that he has been entirely shaped by war, so it only made sense to me that he would feel an inherent bond and respect to others like him. I think I'm going to play with him a little more later, so much potential.

And Mordin. So many feels. I haven't really touched him yet (primarily because I've written mostly just in post-rannoch ME3, which I hope to change eventually), so I thought I'd give him a cameo. A feely cameo. A cameo that, honestly, hurt a bit to write. Hope you enjoyed it.

Oh, and that Data which the Salarians got? It'll come back, don't worry. And the entire Chalkhos thing will serve a purpose. I didn't just decide to make up a mission randomly. I've got something almost sort of kinda maybe resembling a partial almost plan.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! As always, tell me what you think in the comments. Suggestions, questions, comments, all are welcome. Enjoy!

Also, I've decided this fic needs a new name, since it's grown a little bit beyond it's original "Reunions" title, so please, leave suggestions in the comments!

Oh oh oh! Finally, that hymn mentioned, is also called "Eternal Father Strong to Save". I'd strongly recommend listening to it while reading the funeral part of the Chapter. That, or "Amazing Grace" (though I couldn't quite bring myself to write a Spock Funeral). Either way, I'd recommend a listen while you read through that part, adds to it, I think.

SotS