The time had come, Alenko decided, to honor his agreement with Burns. It didn't make him feel any better about doing it, but it had to be done. Shepard needed a break. There might be a war on, but Dr. Chakwas agreed: that last headache was something else. So he felt bolstered by having Dr. Chakwas' support, even if he felt like he was doing something disreputable.

But Shepard did need the break. She wasn't prone to monster, multi-day headaches like this one. Dr. Chakwas had probably already given her a scan to see if, at some point, she'd banged her head harder than anyone realized. He didn't remember any head injuries, but there had been a lot of tense moments when he didn't have a visual on her.

"Alenko! It's good to hear from you," Burns said brightly, not without relief.

"Shepard's fine. Remember that thing we talked about when I was kicking around posting to the Normandy?"

Burns nodded.

"It's happened. She needs two weeks on the beach. In lieu of no beaches, two weeks on the Citadel. Light duty only, if that." He hoped he needn't be any more explicit than that, wouldn't need to give any more reasons than 'it's happened.'

Burns didn't seem at all stunned, surprised, or shaken. His hologram moved, as if he was writing a note. "Alright. I'll call Admiral Hackett and give him the memo. Two weeks on the Citadel for Shepard—nothing more strenuous than…does she have a sport?"

"Racquetball."

"Nothing more strenuous than racquetball." Burns sighed. "I'm surprised it's taken so long."

"Well, you know Shepard well enough by now to know she won't quit until someone higher in the food chain says 'you will.'" He couldn't help thinking 'and sometimes she ignores the order altogether,' the events around Ilos coming back to him forcibly.

"Well, we just won't tell her it's for her own health," Burns answered affably. "I'm sure the Normandy could use a little time in dry-dock, and that's something she won't argue with."

Not the least because the Normandy—and EDI—could probably use a little attention.

"I think she'll put up with the Normandy needing a little maintenance. She knows her mission is hard on equipment."

"Speaking of, how are shipside equipment stores? Do I need to sign off on anything appropriation-wise?"

"No, I think we're still good for now. A standard resupply should fix anything we're low on."

"Good. Alright. Now that the pleasantries are over—what the hell is going on out there? It sounds like the quarians up and lost their minds."

"That's a good way to put it," Alenko answered delicately. "Shepard is working on bringing the geth and the quarians into the war—the geth have already started submitting volunteer lists for combat, but they understand that organics face certain limitations, and they aren't trying to hurry her along."

It surprised him to discover from EDI that she had been fielding these requests for Shepard, phrasing Shepard's status of indisposed as 'having reached organic medical limits that should not be exceeded.' According to EDI, the geth were quite accepting of this. None had expressed concern, though EDI seemed to think it hadn't occurred to the geth that there was need for concern.

They both agreed it was probably for the best; Shepard wouldn't want lots of people—synthetic or otherwise—asking if she was alright every time she turned around.

"That's…good…" Burns answered, looking put off. "Uh…look, I know you're the one who's there and all, but…geth…Reapers…they've been in bed together before…twice."

"Shepard says it happens to organics too—it's called Indoctrination. And if the geth central intelligence, or Consensus, hadn't been reduced to something more primitive than usual, they would never have accepted help from the nearest available source—a conveniently deployed Reaper, which is now dead."

"She killed another one?"

"Yes." Alenko really didn't want to think about those awful moments of Shepard vs. Reaper…though he no longer found the story of Shepard vs. Thresher Maw (on foot) so hard to wrap his head around. He didn't feel the need to add 'with help,' because without her painting that precise target, no one would have killed a Reaper that day.

Burns shook his head. "I don't know if she's the luckiest woman I've ever met, or the most natural-born whatever she is that lets her do all this ever born or trained."

Alenko smiled fondly. "I know the feeling."

"Kss!"

Alenko turned to see Vega in the doorway, expression frowning. He proceeded to mime something that was totally lost on Alenko. Vega seemed to realize it, because he waved a very comprehensible 'hurry up and get off the phone.'

"I'm sorry, sir, I think something I left on the back burner just started to boil."

"I suppose I'll wait for your reports, then," Burns sighed, still in good humor. "If nothing else, they're always interesting reading."

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure Shepard's will be forthcoming soon." She was a little behind on them, despite her best efforts.

Burns nodded and severed the call. "What's up?" Alenko asked, as Vega stalked into the room.

"Apparently the quarians can't not be starting shit—it's not the geth." He held up a datapad, which Alenko took.

Alenko skimmed through the official document, then smiled wryly. "Well, at least it's a couple days of light duty that she can't weasel out of, right?"

Vega shrugged. "This is why I don't want to be a Spectre. Too much politics. You going to give her the news now, or later?"

"Where is she?"

"Down in the cargo bay on a treadmill. EDI took her platform down there to keep an eye on things. I think Shepard knows it, too—she seemed a little irritable, and it's probably the close watch doing it." Apparently, his CO's sense of independence mattered little in the current situation. "She told me she was about to start sweating painkillers. I just opened my mouth and bam—irritable explanation."