Chapter 11: The Rules of Decorum

Adrien Victus listened to the conversation buzz around him. Politicians talking politics. Victus was not a man used to diplomacy, and politicians made him distinctly uncomfortable. He'd invited Septimus in an attempt to stem some of the political discussion, but, so far, it hadn't worked. He hoped Garrus would steer the conversation in a different direction, if he ever arrived. Garrus, now there was a turian who had some stories: Archangel, the Collectors, the Reapers, even Saren, not to mention his old C-Sec days, although those had to pale in comparison with what he'd seen with Shepard. He was also interested in who Garrus would bring, if he'd any sense he wouldn't bring Shepard, he would bring a very nice, charming turian girl. From what Victus had heard, Garrus didn't have any sense; in which case, this dinner would become very interesting indeed.

Solana and Avicenna had already arrived, and Victus had half-expected expected her brother with them. Cenna was leaning easily against a wall captivating a handful of other guests—he had a calm arrogance about him that Victus didn't like. It was effective though, Victus watched as Solana attempted to engage Cenna and failed. Cenna certainly wouldn't be an easy mark, but Victus applauded the young Senator for her persistence.

His eye was drawn to movement in the hall. Garrus, finally, he thought relief beginning to flood him. She entered, tall and beautiful. Long dress pooling lazily on the floor, streaks of blue accentuating every curve. Victus had to look twice to make sure it was, in fact, Jane Shepard. She looked so different out of her armor and fatigues. Suddenly, Garrus's choice of date didn't seem nearly as outrageous.

"Commander Shepard," Victus rose to greet her. "Garrus, welcome."

"Primarch Victus, we're delighted to be here," Garrus answered. Jane smiled clasping his hand, "Primarch."

Jane's eyes roved the room. She knew she would be the only human, and that didn't bother her, hell, Garrus had been the only turian on her ship for years. This was no problem. "General Oraka," she said feeling the relief swell inside of her just the same.

"Commander Shepard. It's always nice to see you. Please, call me Septimus," Oraka rose to greet her.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" Victus asked motioning for one of his servants, "Commander, I don't carry much in the way of levo-alcohol, I'm sorry. I do have an asari honey wine, I've been told it's very good."

"That sounds perfect." She replied. Garrus introduced her to the rest of the turians. She knew Sol and Septimus, but that was all. Cenna surprised her; she'd expected Sol to look for something different. But, Sol also expected Garrus to find something different, so Jane considered it even. Garrus greeted Cenna warmly, like old friends, and Jane thought maybe she was missing something about the young turian. It seemed the three of them had been childhood friends, and she was willing, for the moment, to let the feeling of unease pass. The rest of the Primarch's guests were politicians, some of them she recognized from conversations with Sol: Kallen and Irris. But the rest bled together in the wash of information.

The turian hierarchy was far more complex than she had at first imagined, Garrus had told her parts of it, and she'd researched others, but she realized, listening to the steady hum of the conversation, that she'd barely scratched the surface. Sol and Cenna were clearly at the bottom of the social hierarchy in the room, and then came Irris and Kallen, but Garrus was much higher near the Primarch. She watched the deference pass between them all in curt nods and short phrases wondering idly about political fallout from tonight.

After the brief pleasantries were exchanged, including several concerns for her health with the threat of radiation, the groups slowly drifted back to themselves. The stymied conversation slowly restarted, and Jane found herself listening far more than speaking, soaking up every moment of this refined and strangely controlled evening.

Cenna watched Shepard and Garrus from across the room noting their entrance and appearance with unfeigned interest, "Nothing, huh?" he turned to look at Sol.

"Shut up, Cenna," Sol replied.

"I told you 3 years was a long time."

"Yeah, I thought he'd be different, but, not like this."

"She is beautiful. I can see the attraction."

"She's what?"

"Sol, she's stunning. You can't have not noticed." Cenna ran his eyes over the human mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips and the plunging neckline. He normally didn't find scars attractive, but he thought he might be willing to make an exception in this case.

Grudgingly, Sol regarded the human. Cenna was right—the tall, lean muscular form, and the bright intelligence behind her eyes set her apart from any human she'd known before. She'd desperately wanted Commander Shepard to be one of her brother's infatuations, but she knew, now, that she most certainly wasn't.

"She's wearing his colors, you know," Cenna observed.

"I saw that earlier."

"So, they're serious?"

"I suppose they are."

"I'm not surprised. Your brother never really knew when to leave things on shore leave."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Sol's voice went cold.

"You know his reputation. Don't—I know you know it."

"Commander Shepard is not some stray pyjack nor is she a turian fling. It's not like he brought home an asari dancer, so don't make it sound like he did."

"Sol, you know it's odd. If it wasn't your brother, you'd be gossiping about it too." Cenna replied cocking his head slightly.

"But it is my brother, Cenna. This is my family."

"If you'll please follow me, dinner is ready." Victus's announcement interrupted their brief conversation.

Cenna paused for a moment. Sol looked almost as beautiful as the Commander this evening, and he didn't want to upset her. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, "I'm know. I'm sorry. Shall we?" he continued standing. Solana rose with him, the burgundy skirt pooling at her feet. "You look stunning too." He said, and she smiled.

In the wake of the Primarch's declaration, Jane watched the turians rise and follow the Primarch into a cavernous room in a procession so fluid it almost looked rehearsed. Garrus took her arm escorting her to dinner. It was all so formal, but she found herself enjoying every moment of it. One long table ran the length, and the room was elegantly lit with soft yellow lights. It seemed so familiar that for half a heartbeat Jane thought she was back on Earth in one of the many stately castles and dignitary estates. Grandeur and refinement, it seemed, were another one of those universally translatable concepts. Sometimes she thought she was finding more of them everyday.

Dinner began peacefully enough Victus was pleased to note. Despite the small disturbance Shepard's presence originally made, he found she was attracting less attention now. Her life in the military suited her for conversing with the turians, and she understood the life of strict discipline that they subjected themselves to. Garrus may not have chosen a turian, but he could have chosen far worse, Victus finally decided. He'd seated the pair of them near the head of the table, where Garrus's standing warranted and where Shepard's presence wouldn't offend. Spirits, he hated politics, he thought for the second time that evening.

Jane watched the turians around her, and she looked down at her unexpectedly foreign place setting. She hadn't forgotten she was the alien here, but she was still startled to remember turians didn't use the same cutlery as humans. She watched the other turians with interest mimicking their motions as the food was slowly brought out. Victus had seen to it she was served, even if he hadn't counted on a different set of cutlery. Garrus looked over at her, smiling slightly. "Here," he said showing her what to do.

"Thanks," she mouthed back to him.

Victus observed their brief exchange. Garrus's soft voice and gentle instructions and her gracious acceptance had been so restrained and tender he almost forgot he wasn't seeing two turians. He'd always known humans to be impetuous and rash, their scantily clad bodies demanding attention, and their insistent mouths forcing affection. The flesh had never appeal to him, and he didn't think it appealed to Garrus, but, watching them, Victus knew it was more than that.

"I'm just saying," Jane heard Sol's voice cut across the room, "rations would solve most of the problems facing the incoming refugees." Sol was engaged in a heated discussion with a turian whose name Jane couldn't remember. Garrus had been pulled into a conversation with General Oraka who was sitting to his left, and that left Jane unattended. She didn't mind, she was actually enjoying watching the turians interact, and she had little to say about their politics. They were so similar and so very different from humans.

"She cured the genophage," she heard from a group of turians she hadn't met. They were closer to Atrus's age, and she saw them regard her with caution from the other end of the table. She wasn't surprised by their slightly hostile curiousity. Curing the genophage had been a difficult decision, or it would have been if Wrex and Eve weren't leading the korgan, but she understood the turians' skepticism. The genophage had been explained as necessary for hundreds of years, especially to the salarians and the turians, and now a galaxy without the genophage was a big change. Even with the Primarch's reassurances and belief in a turian/krogan alliance, Jane knew there would be some unwilling to believe such a thing was possible. She knew humans who were still wary of aliens after the First Contact War. She felt a pang, then, for Ashley, who despite her own prejudice had died for a team of salarians because Shepard had gone back for Alenko. Kaidan. The name was still thick in her mouth. She'd thought they were past everything on Horizon, he'd come on her ship after Udina's failed coup, but she hadn't seen him since the battle. They'd said their good-byes, but she still half expected him to be there when she woke up, and, despite her best judgment, when he hadn't been there it had hurt. She hated the way it had gone down between them, and she knew it couldn't have been easy to be on the same ship as she and Garrus, but he hadn't spoken of it since the hospital. And neither had she.

"And she gave the geth Reaper code," she heard another of the turians respond pulling her from her regrets.

"It almost killed the quarians."

Jane forced her attention at the plate in front of her. She could hear the steadily growing group of turians just fine without watching them. She was interested in what they were saying. She knew not everyone was pleased with her decisions, some of them she didn't like herself, but rarely had she heard people voice their objections so openly. Al-Jasani was an outlier, she decided after a moment of consideration. So were the batarians, anyone would be upset if their system was destroyed. Even the salarians had eventually come around.

She followed the haze of the conversation slowly tuning out the group that had been focusing on her. She'd be happy to answer their questions, or attempt to allay their concerns, but she doubted that would be welcome or necessary. "Shepard." She turned instinctively when she heard Garrus call her name. "I was just talking about Grunt's Rite of Passage." He reached for her hand under the table giving it a soft squeeze looking apologetic. She wondered if he'd been eavesdropping too.

"And the thresher maw?" she continued knowing it was one of his favorite stories.

"I was about to tell how I took the kill shot."

"There wasn't much of it left by the time you finally got off a good shot."

"It was the shot that mattered."

"We didn't have to kill it, you know."

"Where's the fun in that? Besides Grunt and Wrex would have been disappointed."

She smiled looking at Septimus and a handful of other turians she didn't know. "It wasn't a very big thresher." She explained, "We'd taken on bigger in the Mako, but we were on foot, and we had to last five minutes. We were supposed to survive, like the krogan with the genophage."

"She was bored." Garrus drawled slowly.

"If I had known Uvenk would show up, I might've waited," she shrugged acknowledging that it was a lie to Garrus.

He continued, "This Thresher appears at the end of the Rite. We've spent most our ammo on varrens and klixons, and things were starting to go a little sideways. Mordin finished up this new gun, the Cain, just before the mission and gave it to Shepard."

"And I thought we would try it out." She shrugged, "Garrus was on my six with his rifle. Grunt was trying to shoot it with his shotgun—krogan bloodlust. So, I charged the Cain, only to figure out it's a one shot gun. I thought it might take the maw out, but"

Garrus cut in, "The maw was rearing back its head. It tended to spit something nasty that wiped out shields. So, I took the shot. It was hasty, but it worked. The maw went down, and Shepard lived." Jane wasn't sure if Garrus had ever looked more pleased with himself.

"You said Uvenk showed up?" Oraka asked.

"Tuchanka politics. Not everyone was pleased a tank-bred krogan was given the rite," Jane answered.

"I suppose it didn't help his krantt was a human and a turian either," Garrus looked at her.

She grinned, "Probably not. And that was after we decimated Clan Weyrloc."

'You'd think they'd have learned," Garrus answered shaking his head.

"Wrex was pleased. We'd taken care of two of the most outspoken clans within a week, leaving him free to work on uniting the krogan." Jane turned back to the rest of the table, most of whom were listening with interest.

"Are you sure uniting the krogan is a good idea?" Oraka pressed his mouth forming a thin line.

"It's better than leaving them to fight each other. Wrex is a strong leader, and with the help of Eve the females will work with him," Garrus replied.

"Wrex has always had strong feelings about the krogan and what they need," Shepard continued. "Even when I first met him, taking out Fist, and then later with Saren."

"Well, if another krogan rebellion breaks out we'll know who to call," Terren muttered eliciting a round of laughter from most of the turians. Jane pursed her lips glad Wrex wasn't present.

"I think, Commander Shepard has spent more time with the krogan than any of us present, and I, for one, trust her judgment." Victus stood cutting the laughter short and raising his glass. "I believe a toast is in order: to an unlikely alliance that saved the galaxy. Commander Shepard, you, and all your crew, have my, and Palaven's, deepest thanks." He bowed his head, sipping from his glass. The rest of the table murmured a quiet assent and followed their Primarch's lead.

Garrus watched Jane. She blushed, very beautifully, he thought. She didn't do well with praise, or thanks, it was one of the many things he'd picked up over the last few years. He smiled at her, gripping her hand a little tighter under the table. He leaned close, "I like unlikely alliances that save galaxies." She smiled in response her hand sliding up his thigh. He felt the smooth chill of desire along his spine; spirits, did he love her.

The conversation slowly drifted back to domestic matters confronting Palaven and the turian hierarchy. Sol sounded her declaration for rations and was again ignored. Terren lobbied for reducing immigration while Cenna countered with a proposal to improve the refugee camps and the living conditions near the docks.

"You have seen the conditions some of our people are living in," Cenna pointedly asked Terren.

"No, but I've seen the reports. Not everyone needs to trot down there to see first hand. I can imagine the depredation well enough myself." Terren refused to look at Cenna.

"Clearly you can't, otherwise you wouldn't ignore the reports." Cenna was toeing a dangerous line. He knew it, but he couldn't, or wouldn't, back down.

"I think, Senator, that I have seen enough of the turian condition to know what needs to be done."

"Then you surely must know about the gang." Cenna said simply and pointedly knowing that would change matters.

"What gang?" Garrus couldn't help himself from asking.

"There's a gang wrecking havoc down on the docks. The police are investigating, but no one seems to be saying anything or even reporting much for that matter," Cenna answered.

Garrus turned to Shepard, "We don't usually have gangs on Palaven, or on any of the turian worlds. We have our fair share of mercs, but no real gangs."

"Do you think?" Jane asked him raising an eyebrow.

Garrus shrugged, "Cenna, any word on who is running this gang? Or is that still unknown?"

"A drell named Devak, but we don't know more than that."

"How do you know so much Cenna?" Terren looked almost accusingly at the younger turian.

"I read the police reports that end up on my desk." Cenna responded offhandedly.

"Does this have any relevance to your investigation, Garrus?" Victus looked at Garrus, hating politicians for the third time.

"Hopefully. We ran into a batarian the other day that said he was working with Devak. It might not mean anything though." Garrus shrugged. He didn't want to confess to the Primarch that their investigation was at a standstill, and that he was doubtful it would ever become anything. Firstly, it would mean he would be integrated into Palaven's politics, and secondly, he didn't like to lose. And he felt like he was losing now.

"We'll look into it tomorrow," Jane said.

"What are you looking into?" Irris demanded from the end of the table. "Why are you even here?"

"Commander Shepard and Officer Vakarian are looking into a personal matter for me," Victus answered in a tone signaling that was the end of the discussion.

The small party resumed eating in an awkward silence, and eventually small conversations began between those sitting next to each other. Victus had ordered dinner to be a small affair with only a few courses, he knew supplies were scarce, and he couldn't bring himself to be more lavish. Sometimes Victus felt as though he was herding pyjacks the way politicians were vying for favor. "Four," he muttered under his breath.

He watched his household staff clear away the plates, the colony markings slight derivatives of his own. These men and women had served his family for generations, as had hundreds of other turians in a hundred other houses. Their facial markings as unique to their place in his house as his own markings were from the other houses. Each marking specified a place in the household hierarchy and in society as a whole: his staff had a higher place in the hierarchy than the Vakarians' staff and so on throughout the colonies. So much rested on the colors and patterns of a few lines.

Jane followed the lead of several other guests and stood just after the Primarch. Dinner was clearly over, but, judging from the still flowing alcohol, the party was not. She and Garrus flitted the room talking with the guests. She didn't know many of them, but Garrus appeared to know most of them from childhood. He paused when they offered condolences about his mother, a look of pain flashing across his face, but he accepted gracefully before directing the conversation somewhere else. He was so different from when she'd first met him: the young C-Sec officer who only joined up because he knew spectres could break the rules, and he was itching to be free of the red tape. Those ideals hadn't lasted long, not too much longer than Dr. Saleon's research ship. She was proud of him, proud of who he'd become, and, even though he'd never admit to it, she was proud of the turian he was turning into.

He led her outside to the terrace. "Thought you could use a break," he said. The evening air was cool; it was a welcome change from the almost stifling atmosphere inside. She exhaled, long and slow, closing her eyes. The wind rustled over her billowing the dress in soft folds and tickling her exposed skin. She shivered once. Garrus instinctively moved to shield her from the wind, but stopped himself. This was the Primarch's estate, and they were not in private.

She looked over at him, an amused smile playing on her lips, "You thought I could use the break?"

"Yeah, I know, I need it."

She grabbed his hand, "I think it's going well."

"I should hope so now," he gave her hand a squeeze before letting it fall.

"It's absolutely beautiful here." She stared off towards the mountains watching the purple sky slowly slide to black. The thick carpet of the jungle blanketed the land closest to the estate and was slowly climbing up the steep mountains. In the other direction the lights from Cipritine were slowly illuminating the horizon. She leaned against the balcony into the breeze, and Garrus couldn't recall when he'd ever seen anyone look so absolutely free. He traced the silvery lines of scars with his eyes: he knew every ridge of them, every pockmarked crease. He could name most of them: the long one on her arm was from Therum, the one crossing her back was from Tuchanka, the one under her eye was from the Skyllian Blitz, and the one on her leg was from Earth. There were some he didn't know, the faded ones; they were both shallow and deep, and he hated not knowing where they were from or when. He bit back a growl as he remembered how she looked when he found her on Earth: leg askew, blood matting her hair, and the ragged breaths. It had been the second time he'd thought he lost her, but she was here now, with him. And spirits was she beautiful.

"Yeah, it is." He finally managed.

Jane looked over at him understanding, "Officer Vakarian, you should get me some more wine before you actually make a scene." She handed him her empty glass turning back to look at the vast expanse of Palaven once more. Garrus hesitated with her glass; he knew she was right that if he stayed he would just make a scene. But in that moment he would have given anything not to care. Jane took several moments in the silence to enjoy Palaven, before she started running through the op they would be executing tomorrow: Devak and the docks. They'd bring Evander, Icarion, Veyla and Cirrus since Jane still hadn't seen them in the field and they'd need the extra guns. And Garrus would insist on it, she knew already. They'd have to find the batarian from the other day, he'd seemed smug enough about Devak, so she didn't think they'd have any problems finding him. It was Garrus' op, not hers, she reminded herself. She trusted him to plan it well, hell, she trusted him to plan it better than she could. He knew the terrain, he knew the squad, and this was police, not military, work.

"I wanted to thank you," the voice behind her was calm drawing her from tactics. It was Victus. Jane hadn't heard him approach. "You've done a lot for Palaven, for the turians, and for me." He glanced inside at the group of turians watching them with unmasked interest. He turned away to look out over the balcony matching Shepard's pose.

"Primarch Victus, I was just doing my job," she answered.

"Apparently you were the only one doing the right job."

"Presented with the evidence you would have responded just like I did. Fedorian listened when Atrus went to him with Garrus's story."

"Yes, but I didn't do anything, and neither did the rest of the galaxy." He paused frustrated, "What I'm trying to say is 'thank you.' You know how difficult that is for a turian, right?"

Jane laughed, "I'd gathered, but I seem to be hearing it a lot lately."

"You know this is uncommon, right?"

"Us or the gratitude?" she looked over at Garrus who was still inside and enthusiastically retelling a story. When Victus didn't answer she continued, "I know we're not common."

"Particularly in his position."

That was cryptic, Jane thought. "What is his position?"

"Garrus is close behind me in line. I imagine if they hadn't found me back on Menae, many would have looked to him instead. House Vakarian is very old and very powerful even if they aren't very wealthy. You have, of course, helped their reputation. It's impossible not to respect Garrus after the things he's done. But Garrus was supposed to make a good match here, on Palaven, to a younger, wealthier house. Sol is clearly doing what she can in that regard, but Garrus is a remarkably eligible bachelor."

"I see." And she did see, quite well. Garrus was jeopardizing not only the family line but also his family's standing on Palaven by dating her and eschewing the arms of another suitably eligible turian.

"You look stunning by the way," Victus said as they watched the last moments of the sunset.

"Thank you. I haven't been out of my uniform in ages."

"The color suits you," Victus said heading back inside to the rest of his guests, and leaving Jane to chew on their brief conversation. Her eyes followed the path Victus cut through the room. He clearly didn't disapprove, but he didn't approve either. She sighed wondering if Garrus knew about his family's situation and wondering if it would matter. She heard music from somewhere in the mansion, and a heartbeat later Garrus reappeared holding out a hand for her.

"I know it's not your favorite thing to do," he looked amused. Probably remembering the countless times on Omega or the Citadel or Ilium that she had been forced to dance, she thought.

"But it's expected," she finished for him. He nodded in response. She placed her hand in his, and he raised it to his mouth, tucking it into his elbow, and leading her inside.

Several couples were already dancing, Sol and Cenna amongst them. Jane noticed Irris and another turian she didn't know, as well as Terren and Victus and their respective mates. She looked ruefully up at Garrus. "Just follow me," he said, "I've been told I'm a good leader."

He wrapped her securely in his arms and joining the swirl of dancers on the floor. Jane felt irrationally off balance in her heels, but to her own amazement she didn't step on Garrus's, or anyone else's, toes. He was, true to his word, an excellent dancer. His step was solid and sure deftly navigating the other couples around the dance floor.

"I think," he purred into her ear, "that all this time, you've just been waiting for a strong lead. Someone to keep you in line."

"In your dreams, Vakarian," she answered leaning up and into him.

"Yes, they are," he responded without missing a beat, "and now, they have come true."

"You do not dream about dancing with me."

"Not this kind of dancing anyway," he said his blue eyes alight. The song ended a moment later, the couples halting in their place before reforming to continue.

"May I?" Cenna appeared at their side his hand outstretched towards Jane. She looked at Garrus, unsure of how exactly to respond. He gave her a soft nod, and she took the younger turians hand.

Cenna's grip was firmer than Garrus's, more possessive. Where Garrus lightly led her across the dance floor, Cenna pulled her clutching at her waist and her hand. She didn't stumble under Cenna's guidance any more than she had under Garrus's, but she understood the difference between them. She'd felt that difference from a hundred men over her life, she hadn't taken them all to her bed (or even many of them), but it was there all the same. Like night and day.

"You are an excellent dancer," Cenna finally spoke.

"Thank you." It was a pleasing lie, even if it was a poor one.

"Your dress is gorgeous," he continued.

"Thank you," she answered. This truth was less pleasant on his lips.

"Are you enjoying your stay on Palaven?"

"Very much. Although I haven't seen nearly as much of it as I would like."

"You have been in Cipritine? Yes?" he waited for her to nod before continuing, "And, I trust you have been to the mountains? I saw you admiring them earlier. No, well we should all go. Garrus, you, myself, and Sol. It would make a lovely excursion."

"I'm not sure we'll have the time."

"I'll arrange it with Sol." He pulled her closer against him.

"That would be best."

"I don't normally find humans so attractive, but you are stunning. Simply beautiful. I understand why Garrus was so keen on bringing you back." He ran one of his talons along the scar on her back edging dangerously low. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from punching him.

Where in the seven hells was Garrus, she wondered not for the first time during this exchange.

"Garrus didn't bring me back," she answered coolly struggling to ignore the rest of his comment and the roving hand.

"Excuse me," this time it was Victus inserting himself between the pair. As much as Jane hated being passed around, nearly anything was better than dancing with Cenna. The Primarch's grip was firm but loose, similar almost to Garrus's, and he kept her respectfully at arm's length for which she was suddenly very thankful. "I hope you will excuse my interruption, but you looked ready to punch Cenna, and if you hadn't, I'm certain Garrus would have." The Primarch looked back towards the irate Garrus.

"I assume that's not how political dinner parties are supposed to end?"

Victus laughed, "No, they are not. At least not the ones with any claims to civilitiy."

"Well then, thank you, for maintaining the rules of decorum."

"That, it seems, is my job." They were blissfully quiet for the rest of the song. Jane focusing, once more, on staying off the Primarch's toes. Turian feet were not shaped like human feet, and she was having some difficulty adjusting to the difference. As the song ended and they drifted apart Victus pulled her close once again, "You are a credit to your race." And then she was happily caught in Garrus's arms once again.

"Garrus Vakarian, you—"

"Don't even say it. I'll never make you go to a party without your pistol again."


A/N: First of all...everyone needs to go Jasminealexandra's deviantArt page and see the AMAZING art for this chapter. It is absolutely stunning. Seriously. Amazing. Go look.

A huge thank you to everyone who has been following this story, reviewing, favoriting, etc. I do make a point to respond to all my reviews (some of you don't have PMs enabled, and that makes me sad) because you all are what keep me going. Seriously, the support for this story has been amazing.

As always, Mass Effect belongs to Bioware, and I am just playing in their sandbox.

Also, keep an eye out, a revised chapter one will be hitting the internet sometime this week! :) And hopefully, the next installment of this story won't take me quite so long to write.