Ah, life really does beat you when you're down. Nonetheless, writing makes life easier. :) Do enjoy the long chapter. Feedback will be loved 5ever (yeah, I used it. I would judge me too).

Chapter 10

On Christmas Eve, Rachel put all her extra hours into Aria's Afterlife. Omega probably didn't really know it was near Christmas or what Christmas was. The calculations in Galactic Standard Time were weird too if a human hadn't been to the Sol system in a long, long time. But humans in Omega didn't seem to forget when a beloved holiday was and the season was a busy one for a sleazy club. A lot of lonely humans—no family and full of one-night lovers—but very few went to Omega because they loved it or chose it. More so the club that stood at its heart.

In her little corner on the second floor, before she was due to make rounds on the first, she was going through her omni-tool looking at her information broker's messages about the whereabouts of one Nyreen Kandros.

She couldn't tell Aria that Nyreen was part of the next phase of her plan, that Commander Alenko would need all the support he could get. Kandros may have lost her clout in the Hierarchy, but Rachel was sure she had some friends in the Cabal who could still get something done. Rachel had been tempted to cash in favors with her old contacts in Palaven but it was better to keep things nice and easy until she was sure she didn't have a choice and she'd have to reveal herself.

So far, her broker and friend, Barns found nothing solid on Nyreen's location. She feared contacting Liara for help. The Shadow Broker—if he ever knew who or what she was—would make himself at least eight figures richer so that wasn't an option. Rachel might have to go to another friend and cash in more favors. She hated how much time and effort she was spending on this rather than looking for Lor, but she knew the commander needed this—least of all, the galaxy. If it made things easier for her in the long run of her personal quest, she'd do it.

There was also the fact that Rachel never did anything by halves. There was still honor amongst shadows and she had promised whatever help she was willing to provide to the commander.

Just when she was teetering near the edge because of the lack of leads on Barns' part to find out more, a message from Vakarian came through her omni-tool. Talking with Vakarian was easy, so easy that she felt relaxed in his presence. Maybe it was all the random messages they sent each other, the odd times she would be caught snickering at Afterlife. She was doing that now too because his one message that had read: 'Sensat won't shut up about you. I think you've indoctrinated her.' came with the best timing

Near her post was Grizz, another turian who was less flashy but comfortable to be around. He would normally ignore her laughing but this time he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "At least share your porn if you're going to watch it in the middle of your shift."

"Not porn, Grizz." She turned her omni-tool off after a quick reply that said: What can I say? Asari worship me.

"Whatever, Legs." The turian liked his puns, which was weird for a turian—they barely knew anything about human figures of speech. Maybe they were all unintentional. "You tell me why you're cackling there by your lonesome without an asari stripper."

"I don't laugh when I'm about to get it on, turian."

"Hah. That's what they all tell me but when I get going they all start laughing."

"That's because your technique is so poor they have to laugh. It's called pity."

His mandibles twitched into a smile. "Legs, you have no right to claim that unless you've tried me."

Her left eyebrow arched and she put her right hand on her hip. "You're really going there, Grizz?"

His smile was still in place. "Legs. I say you have the best pair around. No joke. And to do it with the girl with the hottest legs would be the best sex of my life."

Even through her mask and the music of Afterlife, her laugh was pretty loud. So his puns were deliberate. "Grizz, you have a thing for humans? And no attraction to tiny turian waists? What would your mother say?"

"She'd disown me and I'd end up in Omega." They both chuckled at that. "And heads up, Legs, lackey at your three."

She didn't need the warning because with the way the batarian ran up to them, the whole floor would have probably heard it. He was gasping a little loudly too. "Legacy, Patriarch wants to see you."

Rachel looked at Grizz who just shook his head. So, Aria didn't know anything about this. "What for?"

"He didn't say. But he wants you in his room immediately."

"I don't answer to Patriarch." She paused. "You tell him that the next time he needs me, he'll have to pay a lot of money and have a very good reason."

The lackey looked both scared and irritated at the same time but in the end, he nodded and left. Grizz shook his head. "Should we tell Aria?"

Her mind easily opened up to the possibilities: what could a meeting with the old king of Omega do for her? Patriarch may be a fallen Battlemaster, but he was still a powerful krogan, who ended up having to answer to a more powerful asari. However, she was sure he still had some friends, and those friends would have friends too. If she could gain some semblance of footing in Tuchanka as well, that would prove helpful to herself and to Alenko in the long run.

When the lackey came back, half the money in hand which was already more than what she'd made in the months she'd been in Omega, she smiled. She told the batarian she would see Patriarch after her rounds.

"Would it be all right for you to keep a secret just this once, Grizz?"

The turian crossed his arms, mandibles twitching upwards into a smile. "I ain't cheap, Legs."

She smiled back at him. "If I come to work in a dress that showed my bare, human legs—"

"Done." He accepted easily, snapping back into guard duty. She laughed as he began to shoo her away. "Now, shut up and leave for work before Aria becomes suspicious of us."

When she met Vakarian in Eden Blue the next day, she felt battered from the lack of sleep and the job the Patriarch had sent her on. It was no joke and she wondered why Aria hadn't dealt with it already. There were emerging factions of mercenaries— hell, a new one cropped up every day and was either massacred or dismantled mere hours later.

Normally they would have owed it to the food chain to keep things balanced: the big eats the small.

Apparently, however, the vorcha were gathering. It wasn't a Blood Pack kind of organization, either. It was an all-out cockroach-like manifestation of how many vorcha actually lived in Omega and how easily they could just raid and kill everyone. Of course, no one ever worried because organization and vorcha never went in the same sentence.

Getting ahead of herself, she would say that either the Collectors or Reapers were involved. Personally, she thought it was something Cerberus would do to instill fear of aliens in the heart of every human being—the vorcha already had all that stigma against them that it wouldn't be hard to give one final push. Last night, she had stealthily made it inside one of their warehouses to investigate but she saw nothing that could lead her to definite conclusions.

"A long term project," She muttered as she made way into the sky car she had parked a ways away. "Perfect."

When she returned to her apartment to prepare, Rachel had donned her old armor (the markings on the back would have given her away) and left her mask at the apartment as well. She got to their meeting late, at least by two Galactic hours. Sliding into the seat across Vakarian, she nodded at him and ordered her own drink. He didn't press her about how late she was or how long he had to wait for her.

"Sorry."

He pushed a plate of cookies with the flick of a talon. "It wouldn't be the first time I got stood up."

She noted that his subharmonics had a hint of fondness in them. Fondness from the memory? Or fondness that she was late? Strange turian. "I bet it's usually the other way around."

"Uh, no." There was the distinct twitching of his face plates that told her he was nervous. "It's not like I've had time to make attachments, even if they came my way."

"Not always as smooth as you are now, Vakarian?" She popped one of the bite size cookies into her mouth and had to stop the smile.

"I am really smooth, aren't I?"

"Cocky shit, more like."

"Too much praise, I can hardly take it. Here, have more cookies." He pushed the plate towards her again.

"Don't think you're going to get away without telling me about it."

"What? But I just gave you cookies."

"Am I going to have to start my guessing game?"

"Fine." His mandible clicked together. "But you're going to have to tell me something in return. And it better be good."

"I'm game." She challenged. "You first."

He bore his teeth and leaned in when her cup of coffee came. She could see in his blue eyes how he was filtering through his memories, trying to choose which one would be best suited to share. Rachel had to admit to herself that she had found what expressions she could read in his eyes and face interesting. The turians she knew, or had known were more closed off (at least to her, as human as she was) and she'd had to learn to discern their emotions through their voice (a limited effort, again, because she was as human as she was).

But Vakarian's face was different, his eyes were different. He was surprisingly easy to read, at least to her. It had not attracted her the same way white innocence did, but Vakarian was obviously flawed— secretive but not false. He was some shade of grey that was comforting. She wondered what his life would have been like if he had been made Spectre earlier (he was skilled enough for it, she was sure) and if they would have spent their lives chasing each other, hunting each other down. That would have been fun.

"So I was young, right? Barely into the military service before I started getting noticed. A little less than 20 years old and I've shown some promise."

"So boastful even in youth?"

"Quiet, Rachel." He waved her comment off and she snickered. "Anyway, so I had been given the opportunity to stand out even more. Looking back at it, it may have been one of the reasons why I was considered a Spectre candidate: though the odds were small. I'd been assigned a post on a dreadnought, a huge ship by the name of Unconquerable—and one of the captains there was into, hm, young men."

Rachel nearly spat out the cookies she was happily eating. Instead, she opted to choke on them until she took a sip of coffee and tried her best not to laugh too loudly, "You're kidding."

"Wish I was. She, uh, propositioned me to spar several times. I don't know if you're aware that letting off some steam was allowed in the turian fleet?"

She nodded, remembering her own days and the times she had to fight side by side with turians. "I'm aware."

"Then, you'd know that as long as it doesn't get in the way of the mission we're allowed to fight?" She nodded and he nodded back. "I was her personal punching bag most days. And then when she propositioned that it escalate into something more…" His grin was more eloquent than his words and she chuckled. "With the meritocracy in place and her rank—well, we may have loose rules with regards to sex and violence but this was taboo. Rank stripping, even. Practically death to the eyes of the Hierarchy."

"Did you do it?" She leaned forward too. If she was honest it was because Vakarian's eyes had turned a dangerous and sharp shade of blue and she wanted a closer look.

"We did." He paused. "Have I mentioned she was married?"

"Well, shit."

"Shit and Spirits, indeed. It was a short relationship, a physical one but it was the world to me then. Didn't see how she strung me along—all that waiting around for her and she never came. When it was ending—well, I was young and I thought that was it. Stupid really. Our huge fight made a lot of noise, literally, and people came running. No one asked since her husband was someone up there. I fell a rank or two, nothing really.

"The look on my father's face, hah. He never really yelled at me for that. But he knew exactly who she was and what she'd done. I never thought my father would ever come to my defense on anything. Now that I think about it maybe it was actually his work that just got me demoted for insubordination."

She leaned her head on her hand and tilted her head. "Ever think of going back to Palaven to visit them? I mean, your family."

He leaned forward too, talons lacing together and he leaned his chin on his clasped hands. "I do. All the time. But it's difficult to explain things to my family, my father. A lot of bad blood no one wants to wash away. Wounds we've left to fester."

She huffed. "Family is important. I think you should go."

He considered this in silence for a while before he reached for his own drink and took a huge gulp. "Maybe I will, Rachel." Then his eyes sharpened again. "And now it's your turn."

"Ugh. How can you ruin our sweet moment just like that?"

His mandibles clicked. "Pay up, Rachel."

"Hmph. Fine." She straightened her back and crossed her legs. "Truthfully, I've only had one or two casual relationships." She smiled. "Say Vakarian—"

"Garrus—"

"Vakarian," She insisted sweetly and reached for a cookie and popped it into her mouth. She let him wait for her to finish chewing as punishment for interrupting her. "There's a lot of stuff I can't tell you—about my past— but what have you already guessed about my life?"

"Hm." There was the small shift and twitch of his face plates upwards. Thinking, a retrieval sort of effort she noted when turians were about to recite something from memory. "That you've likely worked for the Alliance, is one."

"Good, so at least I hadn't unintentionally revealed anything to you." She smiled. "And what did you think they'd have me do there? My specialization, besides leading my own team?"

"Assassination was at the top of my book." He paused and assessed her face. "But now I doubt it with the look you're giving me. I know your skills match an Infiltrator's."

"I'd tell you my work as an assassin won't lose out to the best. The same could be said about Larceny. I know how to hold my own in a firefight. Still, not my best quality." She smiled, holding out a cookie in her hand. "Come on, I bet the investigator in you is just dying to crack this."

"I'm working on overload now, Rachel. But I have one guess."

"Shoot."

"I've always wondered how you managed to get along with people so well. My team mates have pointed out that you only talk to 'cool, ugly aliens.'" He let her have her laugh before he continued. His eyes had a glint in them that wasn't there before and his mandibles were tightly pressed together. "And it just didn't add up. Even Alenko who had aliens on his ship had made a lot of unintentionally xenophobic mistakes on the way. But you've managed to dodge all of those and all too well for a human anyway. Too knowledgeable about certain alien customs, the fact that you knew the inner workings of a turian ship too. When we re-met here you had been in Eclipse uniform too.

"So now I think you must have been a spy of some sort. Am I right?"

Her grin had been unintentionally wide and he cursed. "I scored highest in subterfuge, according to my mentor. It was my main job—but not the only one. I always play to my strengths. But I barely do that kind of work now. Mostly, it's short term. Infiltrate, make some noise or don't, depending on the job, and get out. Truthfully, I miss it a little: the mind games I'd have to play, the hours poured into research, people I had to pretend to be." Then she frowned. "Though I did regret how it affected my one serious relationship."

He sat up straight. "You don't have to talk about it if it's painful."

"It isn't. An old scar." She smiled, mimicking his earlier stance with her fingers laced and her chin resting on them. "But the reasons why we aren't together aren't important. It was how we did that might interest you."

"Really?"

"He was intelligent, skilled, in a lot of ways more dangerous and deadlier than I ever was."

"Sounds like your type."

"He fit right into the lifestyle and demands, yes." They shared a smile before she continued. "But, funnily enough he wanted to do things right. Very traditional, centuries old stuff—he serenaded me when he asked me if he could 'court me.'"

"I actually know what that is. I want to laugh but I don't think I should be laughing at happy memories, should I?"

"He had a lovely baritone voice. Frankly, I would have been happy if we just went to bed." She grinned. "He was way too nice for me."

He laughed, leaning back against the cushion of his seat. But the humor left his tone when he asked, "Doesn't sound like the type of relationship that would just fail. What happened?"

She smiled. "He had questioned my motivations for getting into the relationship, for staying in it. He thought I was just repaying debts to his family. Frankly, I think he was right."

"Hm. I know I said you're probably not the settling down type but I think he lucked out there, Rachel."

"Oh? You think so?" She said playfully.

Vakarian didn't look like he was playing at all though. "He would have had one great adventure had he stayed with you."

She felt herself taken aback, her mouth hanging open, intending to say something but instead she let it hang there until Vakarian, oblivious fool that he was, changed the subject while ordering himself another cup of coffee.

Oh well, Rachel thought. If she had told him that he had actually done something smooth then she wouldn't hear the end of it.

They didn't talk much about anything in particular after that. It seemed Vakarian was determined to keep the talk as light as possible and it was effective enough that Rachel had a hard time trying to excuse herself. There were conversations about weapons, weapon mods—sniper mods, particularly— some new tech Erash was trying to build from scratch and something Sensat said about her that was practically hero-worship. It wasn't about anything really, but she found herself talking, smiling, and even laughing.

She couldn't remember the last time she had coffee or a drink with anyone—not outside the missions and the relaying of Intel. Not without some affair. And on Christmas too. When was the last time she took a holiday? Never.

Not since she was sixteen and Lor was still around. They'd celebrated Christmas in their own way. She still had the collection of ornate blades he got her every year since she was nine and until she turned 16. They were tucked away safely in one of her safe houses on Kahje, along with other belongings she couldn't afford to lose and couldn't afford to bring. Every year before she turned 16, she had demonstrated her skills to him and every year she improved. Nothing had made Lor happier, he didn't care so much about getting anything material from her. But she had learned how to bake a cake when she was nine, a chocolate one that really put a smile on his face when he ate it. They had cake and blades and fights for Christmas, it was wonderful.

When Nalah saw her and Vakarian at one of the corner tables, sitting in front of each other with the remnants of the smoke from the cold coffee between them, she waddled her way there to say hello. Before she left, she gave Rachel a strange smile. "So, we're closing soon, Legacy. Have to get ready for the party. You're staying for that too, right?

"Party?" Rachel turned from Nalah to Vakarian whose mandibles twitched. "I don't think I remember getting invited to a party, Mrs. Butler."

"Nalah," The blond woman corrected her and gave Vakarian the fiercest glare she could muster. "Didn't Garrus invite you to their Christmas party?"

"Really?" Legacy blinked. "Your non-human teammates agreed to this?"

Vakarian reached for his cup and took a sip before answering. "It was Sensat's idea, actually."

She turned back to Nalah and shook her head. "I should get going then. I don't want to intrude."

Nalah pushed her down by the shoulder, back into the seat with surprising force. "Nonsense! Stay."

"I don't have any gifts for anyone, Mrs—I mean, Nalah."

"And they don't have anything for you, it's fine. Fine." One of her workers switched off their "open" sign and bid all of them good night before dashing out, smiling. "If you can help me in the kitchen, maybe? Garrus is supposed to help Frederic settle things here but the fool isn't back from getting the lights for the tree and the room. For a place like Omega, where you can find nearly everything from organs to oranges, it's just absurd that there are no Christmas lights."

"Frederic?"

Garrus coughed. "Butler's given name."

"Sounds almost dignified."

"I know. The man barely deserves it."

Nalah gave Vakarian a look, he stared back at her with something close to apologetic. Apparently, Nalah had some clout that Rachel hadn't figured she had in the Archangel team. Resigning, Rachel sighed, nodded, and allowed herself to be pulled into the kitchen.

"By the way," Rachel smiled at the other woman when she turned to look at her, frying pan in one hand, daring her to make some excuse to leave. "Do you have ingredients for a chocolate cake?"

"So," Sidonis said under his breath, eyes squinting at all the neon lights with inappropriate words and pictures like the figure of a human or asari in a provocative pose and one that said "Good time here" that Butler had put up instead of the Christmas. There was also some semblance of a tree—pine, Butler told Garrus earlier—but it was about three feet tall and flimsy looking, bowing to one side, and just waiting for its end. "This is Christmas."

"Correction, this is a hooker Christmas. We should shut these tacky lights and just use the ambient ones" Mierin set herself to work, ripping off the signs and switching the café lights on. "There."

"Hey!" Butler came back in from the kitchen. "It took a while for the boss and me to set those up!"

"I have no complaints." Shrugging, Garrus moved the tables together so they could form one big one. By this time, everyone had arrived save for Weaver. "I would have sabotaged them myself but Nalah was in here a minute ago and she loved them for some reason."

"She was being nice because she thought you liked them." Melanis muttered past her drink.

"You're joking."

Melanis tipped that last of her drink down her throat. "She must have a strange view of turians."

Garrus chuckled. When Weaver walked in, unapologetic in his stride and smile, Garrus cleared his throat to get the attention of his entire team. "Just to warn all of you—uh, we have a guest. Courtesy of Nalah so, please don't aim your pistols at me."

Sensat stood from her seat on the bar, positively jumping. "Is Legacy here?"

Butler grinned. "And without her mask. Let me tell you boys, she is one—"

"I'm what?"

Butler froze mid-sentence, mouth wide open as Rachel snuck behind him. She had two large plates of what looked like cake in each hand and an eyebrow arched up. "You were not about to say something the missus would disapprove of, were you?"

"Pssh. No. Legacy, haha. Of course not."

"She might need you in the kitchen, by the way. Maybe you should head there. Quickly."

"Of course, Legacy. Right away." He zoomed passed her and into the kitchen.

Garrus knew Rachel could barely contain her dark chuckle. Walking toward the table, she placed the cakes on the table and looked up at everyone in the room. Garrus noted how most of the team looked directly at her face. "The one on the right is levo."

"Um," Monteague cut in. Though even his embarrassment didn't stop him from studying her face. "Did you bake these?"

She shifted her weight to one leg and leaned back, crossing her arms. "I promise that even if it may taste horrible, it probably won't kill you. Probably." She cleared her throat. "Sorry if I'm crashing your party but—Merry Christmas."

Erash was the first to approach it but then he tilted his head. "What is it?"

"Chocolate cake," Her expression became softer when he looked at it worriedly.

"How did you make a dextro one?"

"I've developed a tolerance for dextro—my body can easily flush it out." She shrugged. "It wouldn't do if I was incapacitated at a gathering if someone poured some tupari sports drink into my glass." She shot Garrus a meaningful glance, it would make sense if her spy work had led her deep into the Hierarchy where she may be forced to eat dextro food.

"Huh, and you actually know what we'd like to eat?" Melanis came forward, teeth bared. Garrus moved partly between them, in case she decided to do something rash. His movement didn't escape them and both women looked at him: one amused and the other embarrassed.

"I've spent a fair amount of time with turian companions. A few I can count as friends for life." She kept her arms crossed. Damn, now he regretted not asking her more about it while she was being chatty. "But if it worries you, you can abstain. No one said you can't reject the gifts you receive on Christmas."

With that Erash sliced into the cake and cut himself a piece. Everyone watched him, holding their breath when he took a bite and chewed. When he paused to swallow and quickly took another bite, everyone breathed out. So it was good, at least according to Erash and it was hard for him to be pleased about anything.

Slowly, his team got their own slices, took their first bite and were all pleasantly surprised by how good it tasted. Garrus himself was tempted to take a bite but held himself in check.

Rachel, of course, took notice. "Afraid I'd kill you on Christmas day, Archangel?"

He gave her a turian equivalent of a smile. "It wouldn't be fair if I got two gifts instead of one."

Rachel eyebrows rose at this. "And what makes you think I got you a gift, Vakarian?"

"Intuition." He paused. "That and I got you something so it would be rude of you not to try."

She chuckled softly. "If you don't at least try it, I think your second-in-command might wharf your share down."

He looked at the half eaten dextro cake and the nearly finished levo version and cut himself a thin slice. Quickly, since she was watching him and he was nervous just thinking about it, he popped most of it in his mouth. His eyes closed in bliss and he hummed.

"That good, huh?"

"You could have probably made a killing selling this in Palaven. No more of this assassin thing."

"Chocolate cake is the only thing I can make. And it took me years to learn it." She gave him a small smile and the twitch of her eyes made him read her as nervous. "Cooking is not one of those gifts I have, I'm afraid."

"Why'd you learn to make cake?"

It was that look in her eyes, that far away sort of look that Sensat was probably talking about a week ago. She was—as humans said, looking far away—like a scene he couldn't see was unfolding before her. "It was my Abrul's favourite food."

"Sorry, I think my translator just glitched. Your what?"

She turned swiftly to him, a little wide eyed as if she was caught doing something wrong. Krul was apparently nearby and heard because he walked closer to them with his hands folded across his chest.

"Abrul very old language that's been outdated. Means," Krul's eyes turned to Rachel, who looked down and away. "Father, mentor, creator. It's very reverent and very warm. But mostly used now as code by Spec Ops to indicate the head of a squad." He nodded, mostly to himself it seemed. "The dots have connected now. The way you were able to fix that bomb. Did someone from the STG train you?"

"Krul, I don't think—"

"Boss, very important we don't forget who it is that we put our faith in and who we should rely on. We must not mix up the two." Krul left it unsaid but it was clear. They knew next to nothing about Legacy or Rachel. Not even her real name. But even Krul seemed to realize how sensitive the topic is because he didn't raise his voice, and save their sombre expressions, no one would be able to tell what they were speaking about. "It's important we know more about her. Leverage."

"Krul," Garrus growled and drew himself up to full height. "This isn't the time to—"

"No, not STG." She looked up at them but she drew back. "Don't ask me anymore."

"So, if not STG then something older and darker." His eyes were wide and glowing. "Connection to Dr. Solus is through this Abrul too." When she stared at him, saying nothing—Krul almost took a step back at the way her fingers twitched at her sides. "I see."

"I should go." Rachel gave Garrus an apologetic smile, but there was something sharp and dangerous glinting in her eyes. When she reached out and touched his arm, she drew back as if she'd been burned. "I left your gift in the kitchen."

"Stay. I haven't given you yours yet."

"No need, Vakarian." She said in a very low voice and shrugged. She gave a nod to Erash who turned at the sudden hush of silence and Sensat who was just about to walk up to her to talk. "I need to visit the doctor anyway."

She walked briskly, so fast that Butler and Nalah didn't notice her pass them when they opened the door.

Butler's face was bright. "So, what did I miss?"

"You were careless."

"I know, doctor."

"Stress is probably making you—this."

Rachel sighed when he motioned at all of her. "Yeah."

Mordin sniffed and handed her a slightly long, wrapped up box. "Lor would be very disappointed."

"Yeah." She took and studied the wrapper intently. Who knew Mordin would be in to polka dots?

"But, I think it's healthy."

"Yeah—what?" She looked up from her seat, blinking.

"Healthy for you to have peers your age. Humans are social creatures. Need more contact with other people. But, must not reveal too much about past. Could get ugly."

"Which is why I should avoid people in the first place, doctor."

"Choose people you can trust. You're good at that."

"I'd just let them down."

"You? Disappoint? Never."

She gave him a smile, though she strained not to. Then, she stared back down at her gift. "Can I open it?"

"Yes, would like to see your face when you do. Take pictures."

"Don't you dare."

He was already reaching for a camera inside one of his drawers and he pulled it out with a huge smile. "Can't make me. It's Christmas."

Rachel's smile turned into a grin. She had dashed here from the party, while Mordin had been busy adjusting his staff to the new shifts. He'd banished her into his office until he came through, her face buried in her hands and her breath shallow. Muttering to herself that someone could find out who she was, someone could find out and then she'd have to kill him because she probably wouldn't be able to stop them from revealing her secret. She wouldn't want that person to be Krul or Vakarian. She had let her guard down and for such a stupid reason—she didn't want to think of the implications of that reason, not now.

Sighing, her hands were shaking a little as she removed the atrocious yellow bow and then tore off the polka dotted wrapper to open the box. She gasped as she pulled it out. "Is this a mod for my sword?"

"Yes. Barely legal tech. Had to make it discreetly. Like it?"

"I love it." She looked at him and then closed her eyes.

"Least I could do. For the daughter of an old friend." He smiled and then dangled the gift she gave him. Also another barely legal piece of tech that would improve his experimentation work exponentially, especially with how outdated the machines were in the clinic. "And for this. Do I want to know how you got it?"

"You'd be scared."

He smiled and then gave her hand a pat. "When you meet someone great for you, your life will change. Definitely. Trust will come easier, connections not as painful. In the meantime, I can be your only friend."

She grinned and leaned down on her elbow, her head tilted. "Selfish."

"I try. Salarians don't live long. Should spend it with people I like." He opened a bottle of Thessian plum wine and its scent spread throughout the room. She remembered Liara again, how often she used to go for a drink when she had a bad day (or a really good one). It made Rachel smile.

He handed her a glass of the wine and poured himself some. "Merry Christmas," He paused. "Shepard."

She beamed back, toasting their glasses together with a clink. "Merry Christmas, Mordin."

Edited 5.20.2014