"Just a beer."

An opened chilled bottle was passed along the scratchy surface of the bar counter at a tavern called the Taurus. A firm turian grip handled it, holding the object with slight hesitation.

He stared at the sticker label. It's pointless information unable to distract him from the pain of home. Garrus took a hard gulp of the cheap beer, tasting a vigorous fermentation brewed too fast.

The galaxy is trying to refill their cups of what they used to have. Exports of all kinds of goods, materials, and booze. Stuff that the war, two years before, had deprived them of.

Ignoring the filler music, he stared away at the edge of the counter alone with his thoughts. Conversations behind him were white noise when he blocked out everything, analyzing again and again what had gone wrong.

She changed so quickly that he thought it was because of grief towards the alliance and the council. Charlie was always used to control, taking command of any situation and making it work for her.

Spirits, she had too. Fighting those machines was no picnic, to quote James.

He followed her every word, never really had much doubt in her, to begin with. Sure, at first, he wanted to exercise some revenge on Dr. Heart. But she persuaded him to put aside his personal feelings of failing at catching the salarian.

Charlie called him on that, pointing out that civilian lives were not expendable, even if it meant catching a monster. So, he thought about it for a while. And eventually saw her point of view. He applied that to Omega too.

But then, Sidonis betrayed him.

Charlie came back from the dead, which surprised the hell out of him. He thought she would be different, considering how much Cerberus couldn't be trusted. But he was wrong.

She was the same then, as always, and reminded him of it, constantly. Not being an uptight commander, no. But by her actions. That's something he's continued to admire about her.

Charlie could talk, of course, and layout the law. Make stubborn minds see the truth, but her actions were louder and more painful to some.

Garrus chuckled, sipping his beer, sighing to himself in these memories.

She stopped him from killing Sidonis. At first, he tried to hate her for it secretly. He was pushing her aside after their talk on the balcony. Charlie didn't stop bugging him over it. He eventually caved, revealing how part of him did not want to pull the trigger.

Her attentive actions pushed out his anger and vengeance. Something his father had pointed out to him.

Garrus had been so focused on Satima, trying to find a cure-all for indoctrination so that he could bring his daughter home. But somewhere in the middle of all that, he forgot to take time to help Charlie. Distract her from this pain, listen to her. She wanted to be validated in her search for their daughter.

Even though he loves her, a feeling isn't an action, and words fall short of helping if no one isn't doing something about it.

Charlie did. Now, look at where they are. She did something alright, and no one knows what to do about it. Except fear the outcome.

The beer became stale too fast. Losing its grain flavor and tasting more like the shipping containers it most likely arrived in.

Garrus alerted the bartender, handing him the liquor. He heard a voice cautioning him to say no, but his mood was more depressed remembering all those old times. "Whiskey."

Back at the apartment

Satima stared at her mother, searching for her thoughts and trying to find a reason for their argument. But then, she heard what Shepard said.

That can't be true. Shepard has never been so selfish, so one-tracked away from other dangers, that she forgets her real mission. Her real objective.

Her mother sat at the kitchen table, slumped over the surface. This behavior is unusual. It frightened Satima to think how her very existence could be taking away this woman's sanity.

She forced herself to sit next to Shepard, attempt to communicate, and help. Closely glimpsing any changes to the character. Her mother had both hands resting on the table, clasped together in apparent frustration.

She started to speak, right as Shepard interrupted. "If I keep pushing Garrus away, I'm going to lose him."

The captain was now lifting a sad gaze to her. Satima caught desperation in her words. Reaching out to touch Shepard's arm, she tried a smile that soured out into a frown and an averted gaze. "He's just worried. He'll be back.", she hoped.

Shepard pulled back hastily, glaring at Satima. Her features were troubled, angry. "I did everything for you. I hope you're grateful for the consequences that come with it, Satima." Then, grabbing her daughter's hand, squeezing tightly.

Satima eyed the grip as the tightened fingers pressed deeply into her flesh. "You're hurting me..", she urged.

Shepard stopped; a stunned and hurtful gaze replaced the glare. Then, finally, she huffed loudly, letting go, sitting up so harshly her chair overturned, stomping to the hall that led to the couple's bedroom.

Satima stared at that empty space closing her eyes briefly in turmoil. She doesn't know what to do. Alone in the kitchen, Satima can only focus on one scenario if she can find him.


Ronin poured over the data from the council's find of the ship station Argos.

Spirits, what a mess. Classified files were highlighted, as he picked specific ones concerning Satima. He felt so awkward at his feelings for her.

She left a bitter taste in his mind. One he hoped being back with Jain would fix. But, unfortunately, that's a hazy situation he needs to address fast. Or he'll end up alone, with no one but his foolish desires.

Desires that he craves for both women.

Something else happened while the past two weeks of hidden agenda flew by. The agent was given a new assignment to watch someone. But not the hybrid.

Her mother.

Shepard has changed. The hero everyone once knew, looked up to, had become a rogue spectre to her own people.

He only hopes that Satima is strong enough to keep them together. If she, too, hasn't been damaged beyond repair by the instruments of the reapers.


Bright blue eyes gazed over the presidium below. Sweaty palms poured red wine gently into the glass. The asari sipped, trying to enjoy the fruity flavor and smooth texture.

It was something she used to do to clear her head and relax over solving problems. Only those problems were not galactic-sized.

Liara had finished reading reports from different groups, all reasoning that something felt wrong. A strange dread had fallen on the galaxy and her people. No one could pinpoint where or the how. Just feel it.

She felt it too. Since the ending of the Reaper war, she's always had a feeling. Javik's warnings never helped, but what if he was right?

He's the last prothean, the most seasoned soldier against the reapers. He knew more about the old galaxy than all of her years studying.

Javik counseled with his shard often, seeing the last years of his people's avatars.

Maybe there's one about conspiracies?

Taking another sip, Liara turned her head slightly to the door opening. Ashley casually walked in.

Meeting in this small office from the embassy below, the women overlooked the vast station as hundreds of people went by their business. Perhaps too aware to stop living and start hiding again. The galaxy needs stability, even up until the end.

Ashley studied her friend's solemn features, noticing the open wine bottle and taking a clean glass, filling it to the rim with the sweet red liquor.

Liara crossed her arm, the other holding out a cup almost empty.

"It's going to take quite a few glasses to get tipsy enough for the day, you know?"

Ash chuckled while drinking, gulping down quickly to respond. "Doesn't concern me.", putting a hand to her hip while swigging the half glass of liquid. "This stuff from Thessia?"

The broker licked her lips in a twitch, glancing at the spectre. "This stuff..." She grabbed the wine bottle from the small bar table. "Is quite expensive."

Her human friend raised a brow with a smirk, "So, from Thessia."

Liara had poured a good bit before letting out a loud sigh, "Yes." She sat the near-empty tall bottle down, walking away from curious eyes across the lake, sitting on the edge of a plush teal couch. Cozy enough to lie down on.

"We need to talk."

Ashley followed suit, sitting in a chair opposite Liara while taking a healthy gulp and placing the glass on a coffee table between them. "Usually, these talks consist of me going against my instincts and friendships, all because that prothean had a feeling." She stared in disgust. "I'm getting tired of it, Liara. First, Satima was no threat to anyone. And now Shepard has attacked the alliance, causing a bigger problem than the both of us can handle."

The broker nodded, sipping her wine. She held the glass a little tighter, swallowing the courage to explain more. "Ash, what I did... was for the good of everyone." Liara lifted a confident gaze. "I did not plan for Satima to be placed at the Argos. Illium was the plan; you know that."

Confused, Ashley shook her head. "Then what the hell was Argos for? A place where we placed the remaining Cerberus scientists and agents to torture people?"

Her accusatory question grieved Liara. Kester had a strange summary of how to help Shepard. Although, the reaper droid Archer was a surprise. Maybe Kester thought Shepard could pry more information from him?

Whatever the reasons were, it vexed Liara more that she had gotten lax in her informative contacts. The tethers of her reach were being cunningly burned away. Archer proved his intelligence with the escape of Argos. But was it that hard to play a group of paranoid, pro-human staff?

Resuming the conversation, Liara openly admitted some issues to what happened.

"I... I did not understand the alliance's intentions then. I work with them out of trust in the humans and loyalty to Shepard. But now that trust has been misplaced."

Now that Archer has since sent a hidden message to her. How he managed to send the file to her personal channel had terrified Liara.

She sat her glass on the table, sitting up to pace around the room. "Satima is not a threat; you're right." She stared ahead to a painting of snow-capped mountains and flowery meadows. "But Shepard's blind maternal role for her is."

She should tell Ashley. It was easy to confide in Miranda, but her fears crept up at that thought. What if no one will understand?

Ashley sat up in anger. "No! No way, Liara! I'm not putting Shepard away behind a cell. The last time she sat incarcerated, the reapers ambushed our planet."

Sighing, the broker faced her friend. "I had two scenarios for Shepard. They were put aside, temporarily, because I feared indoctrination was the problem. But it seems I was wrong. Her daughter is the focus." Liara stepped closer to Ashley, "Shepard was to go to Argos, while Satima received treatment. They were to be separated for a time."

She was turning back to the balcony, making her way closer to the view of everyone. "I didn't know that Archer was alive. That droid thing that tormented Satima from the alter-galaxy."

Ashley wished she had pockets for her hands, but they would have to be placed at her sides for now. She tightened them, releasing a fit of anger that would do no good. "I want to believe you, Liara. I do. But right now, all I can see is how my friend used me to hurt Shepard."

She darted to the side of Liara, staring hard in upset. "I'm not a dog... some bitch; you can throw at Shepard every time you want to play her better confidant!"

Liara quickly faced the alliance officer. "Rest assured, spectre. She has made it very clear that our friendship is over!"

Ashley shook her head in upset, backing away to leave quickly. Liara realized the tone, how her words echoed the spite she harbored from Shepard's warning.

"Ash!? I would never use you in that manner! Never! You're my friend, too." She tried to place a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder, which was viciously pushed off.

"Friends don't use each other for their means." Ashley walked away angrily.

Scoffing in surprise, the broker chased after her. Grabbing Ashley's arm to stop her from leaving through the now open door. "Ash!"

The spectre turned in trained response, gripping the soft blue hand. Her eyes were watery, face flushed and hot. "We used to be friends. All of us! Now, look at how we are!" She leaned in closer to Liara's dismayed gaze, with the broker able to smell the now tart breath of her friend. "Leave Shepard alone. It's all we can do, or we'll end up at opposite ends of the barrel."

Letting go of Liara's hand, Ashley ran out the door.

She's lost one of the only confidants there is against an ever-changing, violent Shepard.

The broker sat back on her plush couch with a huff of disappointment. She was leaning out to stare ahead, thinking and regretting. Shepard needs to step down. Do whatever is necessary to right her wrongs against the alliance, those women, her people.

The thought brought on such a wave of sudden anger, causing Liara to lash out biotically, flinging her overly priced wine and the cups to the floor.

She's tired, confused, and hopeless about all this mess. There's no one to turn to that could understand—no one, except maybe, the hybrid.


Satima sat outside the door to Natalie's room. She was staring away at pictures of random things and places that were a part of Shepard's life.

There was a place filled with the lush jungles of garden worlds, as ancient-looking temples lined the edge of the bronze frame. Another picture had a desert landscape, few buildings that seemed like they were there ages ago. Windows looked blown out, sides of the structures were blasted and scarred.

Tuchunka. She was there, once. If briefly.

Now following her curiosity down the wall, Satima's gaze fell on a sea of faces. Some in uniform, others in armor. Or casual attire. Faces that smiled, smirked, and even laughed.

Her face was there. She was staring at the one person that needed her right now.

But Shepard stayed alone in her room. It does no good to keep this silence between them.

The hybrid stood up, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. Shepard's tone sounded moody and low but gave her permission to enter.

Inside, Satima stepped to the edge of her mother's bed. Seeing her leaned over, hands out and folding in visual loneliness. Then, sitting quietly next to Shepard, she played with her fingers, trying to start a conversation.

"It's a little empty, now.", she nervously chucked. "With just us wandering around this big apartment." Satima glanced at Shepard, not lingering too long or risk provoking more upset. It also seemed her presence alone caused some kind of turmoil inside this woman.

The room looked spacious enough. Comfy bed, nice furniture. Unless you were miserable in which Shepard is.

Satima never sat in comfort. Everything she owned was scraped together or traded for more crude expenses. Keeping her ship running was always more important.

Shepard sighed, slightly moving herself to readjust from an uncomfortable bend. These feelings were hell for both of them. "They took you from me. Locked you in a cell and hurt you." Her voice became shaky, "You've been through this before, on Hive. Right?"

The question absorbed into Satima as memories flooded. There was never a whole discussion about this. No time and no place quiet enough. But, shouldn't her father be present, also?

"Yes, like Hive.", she answered automatically.

Looking up, Shepard turned to face her. Deep sadness settled into the ocean of green her mother's gaze held, which was such an intense and searching stare. Her features changed from a solemn outlook to anguish.

She sniffled, grabbing Satima's hand and holding it this time. No painful gripping as she glanced down, shutting her eyes tight briefly before opening them into a teary gaze.

Satima felt so awkward. Is she feeling the repercussions of guilt from her actions?

Shepard reached up with her free hand, cupping the side of her daughter's face, caressing the smooth human skin, using her thumb to wipe away a stray tear that appeared over a cheek.

"I don't know what to do for you." Her words were innocent, truthful. Then her open demeanor changed a darkening to her stare. Shepard removed the caressing hand, along with the link of touch that had Satima feel so small and receiving. "I wasn't ready for you. But I still took responsibility. You weren't a clone or some botched experiment. You were my kid."

Her sudden laugh alerted the hybrid. Tears streamed down a weary face. "Nobody wanted you around; you frightened them. I wanted so badly to protect you, guide you." She wiped her face hastily, looking away. "You didn't want it."

Satima glanced down in shame. "I'm sorry I did all this to you; I caused all this pain. Everything is my fault..."

Shepard cut her off, finding her shoulder and lightly shaking her daughter. "Don't.", she ordered. "It's both our faults and our flaws. I should've left you alone. I thought I could fix you." She smiled sadly. "You didn't need fixing. You needed understanding."

"I can't undo your past. Just as I can't undo mine."

Now, questions flooded her thoughts. Satima wondered what it was about herself that made it difficult for Shepard to help change her? Maybe if she had come to this timeline younger, a figure more suited to the guidance of the famous Commander Shepard. Not someone who had already become the outcast of the galaxy. A pariah among society.

She made this bed. Satima had known but always pushed it aside. All of this is her doing, and to some degree, she understood that shutting out opportunities for closure, open hands in friendship, open hearts to love had pushed them all away. Yet, delving in the darkness deep down, she always felt at home with.

In this whole galaxy, this entire scenario that's been brutally and psychotically played out, all the chaos extends from her actions.

Satima stood up from the bed, staring down at the floor. Resolved once again, but not failing to go through with it. She'll leave this station. Go to earth with Hackett, and make things right. No repeats, no more rescuing.

They need her to find Archer. They need Shepard to kill him. He may have seemed changed, but the hybrid can never trust him. No one can.

"Let me go.", she uttered, facing her mother.

Shepard lifted her gaze to the girl. "What?"

Satima knelt in front of her; an intense emotion settled over her hybrid features. "You're not responsible for me. I can fight my own battles. And whether I win or lose. It's not your accountability but mine."

She watched a grave expression replace the bewildered glance. Shepard nodded.

Leaving the room, they wandered away to the hall outside the apartment. Satima stood above the stairwell of the next floor, before the main lobby out into the presidium.

"I'm going to look for him. We should all talk about this. And how to fix what happened between you and those alliance women."

Shepard folded her arms, leaning in the doorway with a smirk. "I may lose my career for that. But..", she let out a long soft exasperated sigh. Raised a brow in personal absurdity of herself. "Maybe it's time I stop trying to "Shepard" this galaxy."

Satima belted out a laugh, letting her mirth die down slowly into a more sober-minded mood. "Seriously. I think it would do you better if you pursued something else besides a gun rack and the next target."

Narrowing her eyes, Shepard let out a harrumph of brief dissatisfaction before shaking her head. "I guess I deserved that. After all, I did go rogue." She stepped forward, uncrossing her arms to place her hands on the girl's shoulders. " I had good reason, though."

An intense stare forced Satima to look away.

"I should go... uh, looking for him. Get this awkward situation back to normal. Before you decide who the next victim is for causing me grief." She tried to chuckle, but the uneasy laughter fell flat.

Shepard brought Satima forward, embracing tightly. The hybrid held on, remembering what it felt like to feel this safe and happy again.

"I'll try and reach Natalie. Apologize. Maybe she'll forgive me in a few years." Shepard smiled, letting Satima go.

While parting at the stair top, the soon-to-be ex-captain returned to the door of her youngest daughter. Gathering courage, Shepard lightly knocked on the door.

Terminus systems relaying

Continuous jumping

Archer observed the navigations panel. Keeping a step ahead of any alliance or council vessels and their curiosities should buy some time.

He's dealing with too many variables. And a bigger one that Satima will catch on too soon enough.

Rassa proved more valuable alive than dead. He was impressed for a short time. But, her lunatic ravings are starting to get cumbersome. She's indoctrinated, to be sure. How? That's the answer he's looking for.

The signal relaying off of Satima was coming from the Omega four relay. Something this entire galaxy should be trembling at. But they are too focused on Shepard.

Just like Reaper to distract so well.

However, Reaper Satima is not. Shepard is falling hard from total emptiness. A void so deep, no one can fill. The recent reports he stole from the broker's systems layout a chilling perspective of the once-beloved savior of the galaxy.

Scans were completed as Archer overlooked the expanse of black space. Stars littered the divide between his small shuttle and a few Quarian scout ships.

His hired gun stood beside him with a satisfied grin. "Just the perfect ship we're looking for.", her oak-shaded gaze glittered with excitement.

She likes to kill. Her cleverness is not as astute as his, but it does no harm to have another available and capable body for a puppet of will.

"Yes, quite. See that you focus more on acquiring the ship and less on making a trail straight to us. We need this done with little difficulty." His glare and tone chilled her spine.

Rassa didn't show it. Instead, she nodded, smirked mischievously, and began her automated distress signal.


Garrus finished his third shot of whiskey and then started wandering at a booth to himself.

Dammit, he's a drunk no use in trying to deny it. He pushed his last shot to the side and leaned over the table. A three-fingered taloned hand supported his heavy head and overtaxed mind.

Why is he here? What good comes of drinking away the day, keeping away from those who need him? He didn't fall into that on Omega.

If he did, those two humans would've been dead. All over a simple piece of jewelry. Something that had a deeper meaning between them. A symbol of a lifelong friendship and a forgiving heart.

Charlotte has made it harder to forgive lately. Not that he doesn't love her still, the issue is more about trust.

Can he trust her to let him in? To give him the time of day so he can at least try and fix things. There are questions he still needs answering. Satima is the source for a lot of it. He can't just ask her, though.

Spirits, it's hard enough to look at her without breaking down and feeling so awful about everything!

He placed a taloned hand on the surface and started to feel queasy.

Closing his eyes, Garrus felt highly dizzy, clearing his throat to keep any notions of vomiting down. Food! Yes, that will help.

No, it won't.

It would look disgusting coming back up. "Oh, boy..." He breathed, trying to stand, which didn't work out. Sitting in defeat in the booth, Garrus gave in to wait it out.

He wished he called Vega or Joker. They were running around this damn station somewhere.

Satima walked into the little tavern, hands in pockets of her vest jacket. She stared around, remembering the location from a newly hacked visor. EDI is too marvelous for words.

The bartender was busy flirting with a young woman when she approached—smiling in greetings and hoping for a satisfying answer.

"Hey, have you seen a turian male? Wearing a visor, full set of armor, broody attitude?"

The turian bartender thought for a second, pointing to a booth in the corner of the room, right across the dance floor.

Smirking, Satima pushed through dancing bodies to Garrus. Head on the table, groaning to himself. She sat down quietly, "SO!" She yelled, forcing him to jump up and stare ahead in intense agony.

Satima held back a chuckle, grinning widely. "You're drunk. Aren't you?"

Spirits. "No..." He replied, catching himself from hurling all over the table. "Yes. How did you find me?"

Satima took his glass, swirled the freshly poured whiskey he decided not to die from and tried it. This stuff could clean wounds.

"EDI.", she answered, setting the shot glass back down. "Shepard is waiting at home. She's going to try speaking with Natalie."

He opened his eyes with a sigh, lifting a throbbing head to stare at his oldest. "Is she okay?"

Nodding, Satima lowered her turian gaze. "I think so."

Her naive reply made him think of how young she still is. This is the first time Satima has ever been in a natural family setting. And lucky enough for it to be her blood family too.

That's why he worries more for Natalie. A human child whose adoptive parents are not typical. Most human children might never be used to having a turian for a parent. He couldn't imagine if his own father were a human stepdad or if his mother were asari? Garrus and Shepard attended training on parenting in the months leading to their adoption. Well, her adoption. After they married, he could officially be Natalie's father. But no training prepared him to realize how much impact it would be to raise a child, not of his species, and for the child not to understand his culture or his people's history. Spirits, Natalie must be terrified to see him every day?

Satima stared with a smile as she could tell from his brooding, he was overthinking again. Garrus sat back, taking in a deep breath to settle a nauseous stomach. "What is it?" He wondered.

She shrugged her shoulders, fidgeting with the shot glass. "You just tend to worry a lot... but it feels normal. Like before."

Garrus tilted his head, "You mean... from that time?"

Nodding, the hybrid gave a deep sigh. "I want to help. In any way, I can." She left the glasses alone, nervously eying the club. He could tell this kind of intimate conversation was unsettling, but she wasn't backing down.

"Shepard's emotionally drained. She's overworked, under-appreciated. With the worst scenarios of her life waltzing around the galaxy, causing trouble because "she's" the one out of place. And..", Satima looked away in sadness. "Too damn scared and stubborn to admit it."

Garrus began leaving his seat from the booth as a curious Satima watched. He stepped to her and held out a hand. "Feel like taking a walk?"

She smiled, taking the offer and following behind.

They stepped out of the club to the ward, wandering side by side in a silent but pleasant beat. "When I was working for c-sec, this area was one of my first patrols.", he pointed out.

They passed by an Avina terminal, her smooth and one-toned asari voice announcing the many levels of the citadel.

"Since this area was my first patrol, my father would walk it with me sometimes. I was fresh from the military, young and looking to dispense justice.", Garrus smirked. "Well, not exactly the justice c-sec wanted."

Satima joined the small laughter, smiling down while hugging her pocketed hands to her. "You were stubborn with your duties?"

Now on the stairwell, the pair strolled upward to the beginning of Zakera. A holographic neon sign lit the way all too well in turquoise. "I didn't like the way things were being run. Still don't today.", he sighed in memory. "But, that's something a commander of reapers and all their tactical chaos has to leave behind."

Sky cars zoomed ahead as an open skyline to the ward's traffic zones drew attention from them. They stood at the cab port, watching. Satima then folded her arms comfortably, "We spoke similar, once. In my time. It was on Illium."

Her memory now became a little more precise the less nervous she felt. "You were drunk then." The hybrid gave a warm grin, shaking her head in apparent jest. "Kin Sha... you were mean. But, I got you out that bar and back on the ship. We were hiding from them in the city."

Garrus watched her demeanor and uneasy gaze. "You mean that Directive, right?"

She looked down, taking her left foot to kick at the curb of steel on the edge of the port. Her memory was suddenly fast-forwarding in such a shock to her that she kept thinking of that moment the old Garrus sacrificed himself to stop Archer.

Satima felt that pain again as if it had happened minutes ago. It stung hard, bitterly. And before she realized it, her mouth started to move. Eyes watered, and her nose runny from the guilt and burden of her life. Not once daring to look at him. Instead, she felt each word stumble out.

"You died. You left me." The hybrid slowly lifted a confused stare. She met his one visible eye, darting about her features, looking for some response.

He had none. Not yet.

She continued with emotion, trying hard to conceal their conversation from prying eyes. "And now you're alive, again."

There was upset at that word. Garrus stared away between them.

Satima wiped her eyes and nose with the long sleeve of the shirt she wore composing herself. "It's done. The past is over. I can't keep at this." Turning from him.

He grabbed her arm gently, catching her attention. "Satima.", Garrus began. "I understand you had a better connection with him. I don't want you to feel obligated to try it again with me. I want you to know; I'm always here for you: friend or father. However, you feel. It's up to you."

The hybrid tried a sad smile. "We should go home. Shepard and Natalie are waiting for us."


Shepard sits on the floor, knees to her face. She's losing her damn mind. Each day a piece of her falls away, and she becomes something that everyone fears or hates.

Is this what Satima feels like? Is this what she endures from this galaxy?

Oh, God, it's horrible. The feeling sinks deep inside, cutting into her body and burning hard in the pit of her stomach—the loose thoughts of harm dangling at the edge, so easy to pluck and act upon.

So easy to make them listen. Make them see.

Is she turning into Reaper?

A soft knock echoes off the door as gentle footsteps change stance between nervous attempt and the thought of fleeing.

It's Natalie. So small, so confused, and hurt. And Shepard can't stand herself because of it!

Those soft and gentle sounds were once something Satima made. Right before the reapers twisted it out of her. Ground the girl into she was formed into what everyone hates today.

"Mommy?"

The year they've carefully planned to love this child, she and Garrus formed a trust as new parents. They mourned together their loss of Satima when she left them and hoped to keep a place for her. For when she returned.

Natalie had lost so much. They didn't expect her to attach so quickly to them. Shepard didn't expect to find herself so open and broken from it.

No. Don't say anything. Please go away. I can't

"Are you in there? Satima is not here, and I'm..." Natalie's little whimpers travel to Shepard. She can hear the gasps of terror from being abandoned. "I'm alone."

Natalie stood silently now, waiting, watching the door open usually with her mother standing on the other side as a strained gaze alerted her.

The child didn't move; afraid her new mommy would be angry again. Natalie's arms are strict to the sides, hands open and sweaty. Her little heartbeat pounded like a drum against her chest.

All at once, Shepard leaned to scope the girl up into her arms, holding firm with a strength that didn't harm but comforted. Natalie laid her head over the shoulder, burying a distraught face into the short red softness of her new mother's hair.

Shepard held tightly, taking in the feeling of this moment of peace and holding a child who wanted her to be a parent. All the while secretly wishing just once, it could've been Satima.

"Well, isn't this sweet?"

Her eyes slowly opened from the embrace, holding Natalie tighter to her chest. That voice sent a chill down her spine—something she hadn't given into for a long time.

Cautiously, Shepard stepped forward down the short hall. Standing in front of the sight, she wished her child was not present to see.

Ruth.

She wasn't alone. Ten marines stood with her, along with Harkin. A disgusting smirk washed over his hardline features.

The ample living space grew smaller. Her world was finally cracking with every breath she exhaled. There isn't a Shepard here anymore. Just Charlotte. A woman that became undone and gave in to unspeakable things.

Charlotte let Natalie down, gently leading the girl to her side, fixing her stare on Ruth's glare. "Not in front of my child.", she warned. But it didn't come out so strong and commanding. Instead, her voice sounded shaky. Emotional.

The woman raised a brow in quizzical mirth. "What's interesting, Shepard. Is how at this moment, you request something denied to Grey."

Charlotte feared what would happen. But Ruth signaled for a marine. "Take the child down to the embassy. Find the Turian councilor. Inform them that she was found wandering the presidium."

Natalie gripped her mother's hand hard. Sudden tears dropped down her round face. "No. No!" She fought against the marine, kicking and screaming.

It took every ounce of strength for Charlotte not to fight back as she tried to undo the child's grip, reassuring her. "It's okay, sweetie. Daddy will be with you soon. It's okay..."

Natalie was dragged to the door as the marine finally shouldered her. He was taking her to the cab ports down the stairs of the lobby.

Charlotte felt her heart, break into pieces. This was cruel, but does she deserve it? They could've shot her in both legs, traumatizing Natalie. Another signal sent two marines to apprehend her. Their grips tightened around her arms.

Three others stood behind. Guns ready.

She was brought to a satisfied Ruth. The woman's amber gaze settled on her. "You were once a respectable woman of the alliance." The Chief Admiral leaned in closer. "Now you're a monster. You and your daughter."

Something in that last sentence worried Shepard. She looked back on Ruth as she was pulled and dragged away like Natalie. Where's Satima? What are they looking to do with them?

And why did everything suddenly feel so cold?