The excitement on Menae formed a sort of veil in Shepard's mind, making her feel a false sense of victory. It wasn't until the hangar doors dropped open to reveal a very frantic Tacita that Shepard remembered the mission most definitely hadn't been a success. Aetius came up to the edge of the shuttle bay beside Tacita, his mandibles tight against his face. He looked more suspicious than worried.

Solana remained at the back of the group with Camilla and several other turian soldiers who were tagging along to serve as Victus' guards. Garrus, however, rushed to the front of the group and intercepted his mother before she could come out to meet them. When she tried to maneuver to the side to look around him, he caught her by the shoulders. Shepard watched his mandibles flick as he spoke, saw the wide-eyed expression flash onto Aetius' face as he heard the softly spoken words. A sick feeling flooded her gut as Tacita visibly drooped where she stood, her eyes squinting shut as the news of Fedorian's death stabbed into her.

No, Shepard thought, this mission wasn't a success at all.

The call to Admiral Hackett began on a less than hopeful note. Shepard had been tasked with contacting the asari and salarian leaders and recruiting them for the war summit. The salarian dalatrass had joined without much hassle, but Councilor Tevos had thrown a wrinkle in the plan. In a move characteristic to her "neutral" nature, she had refused to participate in the war summit.

"They'll regret that," Hackett sighed. "The time for unity is now."

"At least the salarians have committed," Shepard muttered.

"You sound less than optimistic," Hackett noted.

Shepard trailed a hand to her neck nervously. "We... expect that the krogan will be joining us."

Hackett donned a mildly amused look. "Well, it seems you'll have your hands full, Commander. With both the salarians and the turians present, it will be difficult to convince the krogan to play along. I trust you have a plan?"

"Oh, I think I'll manage," she said. Last she'd heard, Wrex was still the reigning leader of Tuchanka. She fully intended to call in some favors.

"We're counting on you. Hackett out."

Shepard exited the comm room, dipping down to the main platform of the war room. Victus was stationed stiffly at the console, investigating the controls and the holo-interface. Quietly, Shepard came up beside him, grabbing his attention. He blinked up, mandibles giving the slightest flare. "Commander, I'd like to thank you for the use of you ship... and for going along with this plan."

"No thanks necessary, Primarch," she replied. "My ship is neutral ground. It's probably the best place to hold the summit. As for the krogan... well, let's just say I've had a my fair share of experience working with them. They're exactly the type of allies we need if we want to win this."

Victus stared back at the console, bracing his palms against the surface in front of him. "It seems you've brought the entire Vakarian family aboard."

"Yes," Shepard said. "They insisted."

"They were quick to retreat upstairs," Victus murmured. Shepard glanced over, trying to read him. His deep olive eyes were locked intently forward, scanning slightly. If Shepard were any less versed in turian expressions she would miss the subtle signs of worry.

"Fedorian was apparently a friend of the family." She gestured to the door. "I'd actually like to go check on them, if you don't mind."

Victus finally dragged his eyes away from the display. "Of course. If you need anything, I'll remain here."

"You're welcome to go wherever you'd like," Shepard insisted. "I know your men split off pretty quickly."

Victus chuckled. "Please, let me know if they fall out of line. My men are sometimes... less than respectful of authority."

Shepard couldn't help but smirk at the statement. "Have you met Garrus Vakarian? I'm fairly sure he wrote the book on insubordination."

"I'm well aware," Victus said. His smile was present in his tone. "Though, I do recall him attributing much of his attitude to your influence."

"He said that?" Shepard laughed.

"Among other things," Victus replied.

"Nothing incriminating, I hope."

"Never," Victus said quickly, shaking his head. "He spoke very highly of you."

Shepard grinned, heading for the door. She called, "He's just leaving out the sketchy bits because he knows he'd be my accomplice."

"I'm sure," the primarch said pleasantly. "Take care, Commander."

Garrus, Aetius, and Sol had taken root in the mess hall, each holding their heads low and speaking in barely audible whispers and soft clicks. Liara was standing outside the XO Cabin, which she'd taken up residence in, and she stopped Shepard from immediately joining the Vakarians as she rounded the corner.

"That might not be such a good idea," Liara offered.

Shepard glanced over, feeling her eyes swell as she watched them. "I can't help but feel like this was my fault."

"It wasn't," Liara muttered. "You had no way of preventing what happened."

"Maybe if we'd been there sooner," Shepard spat. "If we'd gone right after we picked you up..."

"Shepard."

She snapped to attention when she realized Garrus had spoken to her. He was twisted in his seat, his eyes silently asking her to come over. She complied, taking a seat at the end of the table, between Garrus and Aetius. The older turian nodded at her slightly, coughing to clear his throat so he could switch more fluidly to spoken words instead of subvocal phrases.

"Commander," he greeted hoarsely.

She nodded back at him, unsure of what to say. She chose to ask about Tacita. "Is... she okay?"

"She's locked herself in the lounge," he grumbled, "and the damned AI won't override the locks for me or for Garrus."

"Want me to get the doors?" Shepard suggested. "EDI has to listen to me. And if she doesn't, I'll blow the damn door open."

Aetius managed the slightest laugh, but said, "No, I'm sure she just wants to be alone for a while." In response to Shepard's skeptical look, he added, "She'll be better in the morning."

"If you're sure," Shepard said. She caught Garrus' gaze and suddenly wanted to just drop the bomb that he was bonded with a human. He looked like he needed a hug in the worst kind of way.

"I'm sure," Aetius replied. "She never has been very good at dealing with loss. She just needs time to compose herself."

"Well, if you need that door open..."

"I'll let you know."

Conversation became no less strained for nearly an hour. Shepard reclined back in her chair, content to sit in near-silence, hoping her presence gave her mate some comfort. She had a fleeting suspicion that Garrus and Sol hadn't been very close with the late primarch, but that their somber mood was brought about by that of their parents.

At some point, Vega entered the room and grabbed Shepard by the shoulder, startling her out of the trance she hadn't realized she'd fallen into. He looked worried, his wide jaw set. "Hey Lola, you might want to come down to the shuttle bay."

"There a problem?" Shepard asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Vega said. "The turian men we picked up are all down there fighting each other."

"Probably just friendly matches, James," Shepard said, waving him off. "Sparring is a common form of stress relief. I'm sure Menae ran them all ragged. They could use some down time."

"Yeah, but that little one that came along, the woman, she's getting pretty violent down there," he said.

"Sounds like her," Garrus muttered. He caught Shepard's attention. "Want me or Sol to go stop her? There's every chance she'll get carried away and hurt someone."

"No," Shepard said as she stood. "I'll go take care of it."

Cortez was backed into the wall by the elevator when Shepard and Vega made it down to the lower level. He whirled, meeting Shepard with concerned eyes. She stepped out, assaulted by vicious snarls and profanities. Looking over, she saw Camilla pinned to the ground by a larger, tan-plated turian with cream-colored marks.

"Good, EDI called you," Cortez said hurriedly.

"She's didn't, actually," Shepard growled. "Is this as bad as it looks?"

Cortez nodded, pointing to another turian man leaned against the Kodiak. He was clutching at his throat, which was splattered with cerulean blood. "James went up just before she attacked that one. He said something to her earlier and it must've royally pissed her off."

"He said something?" Shepard asked. "What?"

"No idea. Untranslated."

"Perfect," Shepard groaned, stomping forward. She shoved around the remainder of Victus' men, who were acting as spectators, and seized Camilla's opponent by the cowl. He snarled as he was yanked back and lashed out to the side, narrowly missing Shepard's face. She shoved him away, flaring her biotics as a warning to stay back. When Camilla tried to rise, Shepard pinned her back down with a foot to the chest. She hissed angrily but stilled herself. "So much for not causing trouble. What the hell are you doing?"

"I said I wouldn't bother your crew," Cami barked. "I said nothing about these idiots."

Shepard pressed her weight down, causing the other woman to cough as pressure was put on her lungs. "I won't tolerate this behavior toward anyone on my ship, am I clear?"

"Get off me!" Cami yelled.

Shepard pumped her boot down to jar her. "I said, am I clear?"

"Clear," Cami choked. "Just get off."

Shepard stepped off and tugged Cami to her feet. She gestured to the elevator. "Go find an empty room and stay there. I'm not in the mood for this shit."

Cami's mandibles flared angrily, her piercings glinting from the movement. "Whatever." She stormed off. "Don't know why I thought this pisshole would be better than the moon."

As she disappeared into the elevators, the man who'd been fighting with her laughed smugly. "Much appreciated, Commander, but you didn't have to get involved. We're perfectly capable of putting her in her place, the little rebel bi-"

A hard right-hook to the jaw made him swallow his words. As he covered his bludgeoned mandible tenderly, Shepard cracked her knuckles and bore into him with a stern glare. "I don't care if you have to spar or screw or whatever else it is you have to do to ground yourself. But, have a little respect for your own and know when you've taken your insults too far. I said I wouldn't tolerate idiotic behavior. That wasn't just extended to her, you read me, soldier?"

"L-loud and clear, ma'am," he mumbled, staring at the floor.

She glared up at the rest of Victus' men, panning around to address them all. "That goes for the rest of you, too. " Shepard whisked around and headed back to the elevator. "Vega, Cortez, make sure they keep it clean down here." The two saluted her loosely. "I'm going to go see what's up with EDI. Her sensors and cameras should've picked up on this."

Crisis averted, Shepard dragged herself back up to the CIC. As she exited the elevator, she was immediately bombarded by Traynor's announcement that she had new messages at her private terminal.

Shepard shot her a confused look but took a moment to check her terminal. "Oh, right. You're handling my messages."

"Yes, ma'am," Traynor peeped.

"You don't have to ma'am me," Shepard groaned as she deleted a stack of spam messages. "You can call me Shepard like everyone else."

"Okay," Traynor agreed. She leaned against her console and said, "I must say, the Normandy is a marvelous vessel."

"Making small talk?" Shepard mused. "Or do you legitimately think that?"

Traynor jolted, afraid she'd made an offense. "No, no, I really think that. I've never seen a ship like this one. It's amazing."

"Proves that turians and humans can do great things, if they can just suck it up and work together." Shepard skimmed over several mission statements from Hackett. Shut down this Cerberus base. Reclaim this outpost. Go check out this prothean artifact. Pick up my dry cleaning. Feel like you're back on the original Normandy yet, Commander? I've got a million more where those came from!

"I don't understand why all the species can't just get along," Traynor mumbled. "We all have similar goals, don't we?"

"Similar enough," Shepard said, "but we get caught up in the mistakes of our pasts and can't get around them."

"It's a shame. Things would be so much more peaceful if everyone could just kiss and make up." She paused, laughed, and said, "Or, you know, whatever equivalent they have. It might be a bit funny to see a quarian or a turian try to kiss anything. How would they even do it?"

Shepard chuckled at her innocence and slipped. "Oh, they can learn."

"I somehow doubt that," Traynor laughed. When Shepard stayed quiet, she eyed her suspiciously. "Comma... Shepard," she corrected. "Might I ask if-"

"No, it's better that you don't ask."

"Oh," the Specialist gasped. "I wasn't trying to imply that I thought it was bad. I'm all for... I mean, theoretically, if the chemistry is there-"

"Traynor," Shepard cut.

"Sorry," Traynor squeaked. "I meant no offense."

"None taken," Shepard mumbled. "Lighten up."

Shepard filtered through the rest of her inbox with disinterest until she came upon an e-mail from Jaqueline Nought. She smiled at the name, wondering if that was what Jack was putting on her official paperwork. She gently dismissed Traynor and opened the message.

Shep,

Settling in. The kids seemed pretty happy to see me again. Don't know why. I didn't go easy on them last time. They're calling me the "psychotic biotic." I kinda like it.

Sanders is boring and wants me to follow a shit ton of regs. She had me a uniform made and everything. Turns out one of the girls here is crafty. Helped me tear the shit up and put studs in the jacket. Sanders wasn't happy about it, but it's not like my ass is showing or anything, and I'm still covering up a lot of my ink. Ok, that's a lie. Only some of it.

Thanks for telling me to take Sanders up on her offer. She's wanting to train these kids for artillery. No way they'll survive if some Alliance pussy is training them.

I'll be in touch.

Jack

"At least something's going right for someone..." Shepard muttered, closing out her terminal. Before she could even decide where she'd take herself next, the power blinked, bringing the engine noise to a shuddering silence. She cursed, tripping over herself as the emergency lights lit up at her feet. "Joker, what the hell just happened?"

"AI core!" he shouted from the cockpit. "Fire containment systems just activated!"

"Oh for the love of..." Shepard slammed away from her terminal and headed for the stairs.

After stamping her way around each floor, Camilla managed to find seclusion in the bowels of the engineering deck. It was either camp out down there or upstairs outside of Shepard's quarters, and she'd decided the satisfaction of seeing the commander's unamused face would not outweigh the anger that might be received from the smartass move.

Lower engineering was quiet enough, the hum of the engines providing something more akin to white noise than annoyance. Cami kicked back on a crate and tried to let her adrenaline flow out. Her stress hadn't built up to dangerous levels, but she was in no way comfortable. If Garrus hadn't had his grieving family to deal with, Cami very well might have dragged him down with her to relive their younger years. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought.

When the power flickered and the engines groaned, she worriedly took her happy ass back upstairs. If the place was going to blow, she didn't want to be the first person to know it. She checked the time as power returned, grumbling at how late it was already.

When power returned, she had made her way to the crew deck, content to just hit the bunks and sleep off her residual frustration. Unfortunately, the bunks were unmarked and she couldn't tell if there were any empty. She shuffled around, trying not to draw attention from the humans who were sorting away their things for the night, and came to halt in front of a bunk that smelled slightly like Solana. She crouched down beside the bed, fiddling with the footlocker that had been shoved under the bedframe. The nameplate on the chest read "Vakarian, S." in bold blue lettering. Cami flopped onto the bunk, certain that Sol wouldn't be too angry when she came in.

And she wasn't, really. Within the next hour, Sol came in to sleep, frowning at the black-plated turian taking up one side of her bunk. She lifted her leg and nudged Cami's side roughly. The smaller woman blinked awake, grinning up at her gray-plated friend. Sol grumbled, "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping," Cami chirped. "Didn't know if there were empty bunks."

"There aren't," Sol said. "I thought Shepard sent you guys to the hangar."

"She did," Cami replied, "but I've been banished for bad behavior."

Sol's frown deepened with a flick of her mandibles. "Tell me you weren't the one responsible for the guy in the med bay."

"Hmm, tall guy? Purple tats?" Cami mused.

"Dammit, Cami," Sol growled, "That shit didn't fly on a turian vessel. Did you really think it would here?"

"Can't help it," Cami muttered, scooting to the opposite side of the bunk so Sol could sit. She shifted when Sol plopped down and hummed at her apologetically as she tugged off her boots. Cami had stripped out of her armor almost instantly when they boarded the Normandy, but Sol hadn't had the luxury yet. Cami flipped over and helped her pop the seals in her chestplates. "S'not even like I'm in contact with my father anymore. I'm ready for his mistakes to stop haunting me." Sol stood briefly to shuck the armor off her torso and arms, then began to work on her legs.

"Cami, just keep it together," Sol muttered.

"It wouldn't continue if someone would just let me finish my fight," Cami barked, turning away. "They're only tough when they know they can talk without reprimand. I could shut them up if someone would just let me-"

"That's not your job," Sol cut. "If you can't settle a dispute without maiming someone, then it's up to your commanding officer to handle it."

"And who's going to stand up for the traitor's daughter?" Cami snapped. When a human in the bunk beside them groaned out a sleepy plea for silence, she lowered her voice. "Cause last time I checked, Victus didn't trust me any more than the rest of them."

Stripped down to her underarmor, Sol climbed into bed and shoved Cami roughly. "Guy in the med bay was bitching about what happened after you tore him a new one."

"Shepard came and ordered me off," Cami grumbled.

"And then she apparently tore into the rest of them for insulting you," Sol said.

"She didn't," Cami denied.

"Decked somebody in the face, too," Sol added.

"You're such a liar," Cami hissed, rolling up onto her elbow and peering down at Sol. When the other woman stared humorlessly back at her, Cami went slack-mandible. "She did?"

"That's what they were saying," Sol insisted. "You can go ask them yourself if you don't believe me."

Cami settled back down, chirping softly. "Why?"

"Don't ask me," Sol muttered, pulling the covers up over her shoulder. "By the way, if you happen to see a synthetic running around, don't let it freak you out. That's just our unshackled AI navigator and-or weapon system."

"What the fuck?" Cami spat.

"I know, right?"

By the end of the night, Shepard was drained. EDI had commandeered the Cerberus synthetic and, much to Joker's amusement, had been strutting her metallic assets all around the CIC since. Garrus and Sol had long since forced their father to retire to the observation deck to sleep before splitting off to catch a few winks themselves. Victus had begun preparations for the war summit and would probably stay up for the entirety of the night.

Shepard felt useless at the end of it all. She forced herself up to her cabin for a shower and a change of clothes. Satisfied with some fatigue pants and a sleeveless top, she threw on an N7 jacket and planned what to do while she was off duty. Without thinking, she headed down to the crew deck and veered toward the lounge. She froze, glaring at the bright red hologram over the door. "Of course it's still locked..." She trudged forward, patching a link to EDI as she moved. "EDI, unlock the lounge."

"It is ill-advised to enter the lounge at this time," EDI informed from her remote terminal in the hallway.

Shepard lifted her hands up, twirling dramatically. "Look at all the fucks I give. You can open the door yourself or I will manually open it." The door flashed friendly green and Shepard gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

She keyed the door open and barged inside, giving a sideways glance to Tacita, who was bundled up on one of the couches. She blinked up at Shepard, her eyes bleary, and shifted against the arm. "Shepard," she crooned, "I hope you haven't been sent to drag me out of here."

"Haven't," Shepard assured, as she crossed the room. "I needed a drink." She rummaged around in the liquor cabinet and produced an oddly-shaped black bottle. "Do you want something? Garrus smuggled some dextro liquor. Smells like liquid death to me, but he assures me it's top quality."

Tacita laughed half-heartedly. "No, that's all right. It's not that I don't appreciate my son's enthusiasm for liquor, but I would prefer my stomach lining remain intact." Shepard shrugged, uncapped her bottle, and took a chug. She gritted her teeth and hissed as she drew the bottle away, shaking her head a bit for effect. Tacita said, "I take it you aren't on duty?"

"That's right," Shepard replied. She set the bottle onto the bar and shucked off her jacket. With a toss, it hooked onto the back of a barstool. She reclaimed her liquor and plopped onto an adjacent couch. She gave Tacita a once-over, noticing the misery radiating from her. Her depression was somewhat emphasized by shaky subharmonic humming. Tacita sniffed the air lightly and gave a soft click of a laugh.

"Is it sweet?" she asked. "Your drink."

"Sweet?" Shepard repeated. "Sort of. It's more of an aftertaste." She extended the bottle to Tacita, swirling the liquid inside. "It's got a good burn and then it tastes like chocolate."

Tacita took the bottle and examined it. "What is it?"

"Spiced rum," Shepard said. "It's forty percent alcohol content."

"That's more like it," Tacita hummed, tossing back a mouthful. She puffed out a sigh, flaring her mandibles. After a moment she said, "Chocolate. Not bad. And don't worry, I'm levo-insensitive."

"So I've heard," Shepard laughed.

When Tacita leaned forward to hand back the bottle, her shirt fell away from her neck, exposing a healing bond mark on her left shoulder and an older one on the right. Shepard took the bottle, absently remembering that Garrus had only ever bitten on the left side and had insisted that she do the same. She wondered what a mark on the right meant, wondered if a second bite indicated a second bond. Some connection to Pallin had been mentioned, after all.

She pushed the thoughts aside, taking another gulp of rum before setting the bottle on the table. She pulled her legs up onto the couch. "You haven't left this room all night. Are you hungry or anything? Sol made something earlier and saved you a plate. I could go get it."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Tacita whispered. "I just need time to collect myself." She was nervously fiddling with the plating on her fingers. "Aetius is better equipped to handle these things. His father was killed by krogan forces, his grandfather, too. Death in battle is something he expects." She sighed. "It's something most turians expect. But, I wasn't raised to think that way." She was looking at Shepard intently, almost worriedly.

"Garrus said Fedorian was your commanding officer and a friend," Shepard said. "I'm sure this is very difficult for you."

"He was... very much like a father to me." Tacita reached for the rum, meeting Shepard's eyes over the edge of the bottle. "You don't mind?"

"Go ahead," Shepard offered and the aged turian took another long drink.

"It's warming, nice," Tacita chirped, her mandibles whirling as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. "Commander, you've lost people before, yes? Your men... family?"

Shepard nodded grimly. "On Virmire, we lost Alenko. That was... hard, the hardest thing I've gone through since my father died." She locked eyes with the turian next to her, gauging her expression. "Dad was military, too. He was killed by one of our own species."

"I'm sorry," Tacita hummed. There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again. "How do you cope, Shepard? I've always tried to seclude myself or force the thoughts from my head. That's always seemed the most natural response, but it obviously doesn't work."

"Nothing works against this," Shepard muttered, reaching for the bottle. She gulped back a shot and abandoned the liquor on the table again. "I've always talked about what was bothering me. Sometimes, it feels like if I can just tell someone how shitty I feel it'll go away."

"Does it?"

"No," Shepard said, "but it does help." Tacita grew eerily quiet, still looking conflicted. Shepard sighed and offered, "If you want to talk, I'll listen."

Tacita quietly keyed up her Omni-tool, accessing a folder of images. She scanned through the list, enlarging one so that it hovered into view. The image featured a group of turians (Shepard counted five) sitting in a circular booth together and all wearing civilian clothing. The three in the middle were quickly identified as Tacita, Aetius, and Pallin. They were each in their early twenties, maximum. Pallin's right arm was thrown casually over Aetius' shoulder and his left was tucked securely behind a turian woman's back. She looked to be in the same age range. Her plates were cream-colored at the center of her face and darkened to a burnt sienna farther out. She wore paint that matched Pallin's. On the opposite side, Aetius' right, Tacita was sipping a brightly colored drink, grinning over the rim of her glass. Her paint was blocky and a little messy, as though she hadn't quite gotten used to applying it yet. To her right sat a stocky-looking, older man who sported blazing red tattoos that contrasted sharply against his silver plates.

Shepard looked through the image at Tacita, waiting for her to speak. Moments later, she pointed a talon at the red-marked man and said, "This is Fedorian." She pointed out the other faces, calling out names. "Me, Aetius, Venari, and... Phaedra."

"Is she his mate?" Shepard asked quietly, pointing to the woman beside Pallin.

"She was," Tacita murmured, tracing a claw over the woman's image. "She was a casualty of the Relay 314 Incident."

Shepard remained quiet, assuming that the woman's death had been the catalyst for Pallin's distrust of humans. Tacita flicked at the image and brought another one into view. The new image featured only Tacita and Fedorian. The two were standing side-by-side, talking and staring off-camera. Upright, Fedorian was much shorter than Shepard would have imagined.

"I like this one," Tacita chirped, running her talon against the image. Her breath shuddered slightly. "Everything I am, I owe to him. I could never have repaid him, but I thought I would spend the rest of my life trying. Now..." She blinked over at Shepard, closing out her Omni-tool. "If I tell you something, will you take it at face value, without judgement?"

"Of course," Shepard said. Tacita chirruped in quiet appreciation.

"Before I was recruited by the Blackwatch, I was..." Tacita hesitated. "...I was a monster, a killer. I was uncontrollable and dangerous and I had been named a threat by the Hierarchy. Fedorian was the head of the Blackwatch at the time. He was sent to bring me in, dead or alive, his choice. When he caught me, nearly all of his men thought he should just kill me, but he didn't. Even to this day, I have no idea why."

"I gave Jack a chance," Shepard said, "because I thought it would be such a waste if she died. Later, I found out what she'd lived through, and my motivation was to help her because I thought her circumstances were unfair."

"Maybe Fedorian had similar thoughts," Tacita mused. "I don't know."

"The two of you were close?" Shepard asked.

"Yes, very." Tacita grinned sadly. "He didn't have children or a mate or any close family. The primarch before him often joked that he was mated to the Blackwatch and we were his children. And I... well, I guess I was his favorite." Her expression softened into something happier. "He once said that if Aetius hadn't marked me, he would have himself."

Shepard quirked a brow at her and she quickly squeaked, "No, no, not like that! He would have... hmm, how to say this... The Hierarchy would not have allowed me admittance into the Blackwatch because I was barefaced. When I bonded with Aetius, I was accepted into the Vakarian family and permitted to serve the Hierarchy. If he hadn't joined with me, Fedorian would have adopted me into his family as his next of kin. I would have taken on the mark of his colony and the Hierarchy would have recognized me as part of his family."

Shepard laughed. "I see."

Tacita reclined back, relaxing. "I think, perhaps, you were right. I do feel somewhat better. Exhausted, but..."

"You should get some sleep," Shepard offered.

"That... yes, I think so," Tacita said. Her eyes were beginning to look hazy and Shepard couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or sleep that was creeping up on her. "One thing before I go, just because I'm... curious."

"Sure."

"You're surprisingly unmarked for someone who faces down death all the time," Tacita pondered, pointing to Shepard's bared arms. "How does a human manage that?"

Shepard laid her index finger against the small glowing scar on her cheekbone. "Cerberus greatly enhanced my regenerative abilities. My cybernetics will sometimes show, but other than that, I don't scar. Even really deep wounds mend themselves within a day or two."

"Is that so?" Tacita hummed. "You don't scar at all?"

Shepard frowned, suddenly suspicious. "I don't."

Tacita grinned and stood, arching her back in a stretch. "Well, that explains a lot."

"What do you mean?" Shepard asked quickly.

"One has to wonder," Tacita said, "why a human, who, according to her service records, has only worked closely with one turian, has knowledge of our mating habits?"

"Morbid curiosity?" Shepard offered.

"Or why," Tacita continued, "in the twenty-six years he's lived, my son has only introduced me to one woman."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Shepard said weakly, wishing more than anything that Garrus would walk in and diffuse the situation.

"Seeing your shoulder bared," Tacita said, gesturing to Shepard's neck, "I wondered if maybe I had misread something, but I haven't, have I?"

"I... would rather not answer that," Shepard muttered.

Tacita gave a sing-songy laugh as she moved to the door. "You have my blessing, for what it's worth."

As she keyed it open, Shepard said, "You aren't really the one we were worried about." She looked at her pleadingly. "I don't want anything to go wrong, especially not now that Garrus and his father are on speaking terms again. So, please..."

"His father," Tacita chirped, "won't hear this from me, and it's highly unlikely that he'll figure it out by himself." She stood in the doorway, gripping the frame.

"You sound pretty sure of that."

"Shepard," she replied lightly, "you underestimate how dense my mate can be. You have nothing to worry about."

"Thank you," Shepard whispered, smiling lightly.

"Of course," Tacita chimed back. "Thank you for speaking with me. I feel... hmm. Not better, but more at ease."

"A good night's rest should help," Shepard offered.

"Hopefully," Tacita chirped. "Good night... daughter."

The doors sealed before Shepard could respond, and the final word sent a wiggling jolt through her. She couldn't control the grin that pulled at her face and grabbed a couch pillow to smother the laugh that spilled out.

Two finals down, five to go! They'll never take me alive!
In the meantime, I'll try to write and even (le gasp) draw. I have so much inspiration right now, I can't even stand it!