|5|


The interior of the house had a 20-80 feel: twenty percent was decorated, slightly lived in and used, and the other eighty percent was ignored, lacking any additional furniture besides a bed, a stand full of drawers, and the basics of routine living if there was one routine at all…Her smell was what hit him first—the perfume of powder…black powder as from an old discharging weapon the West enjoyed using even in the twenty-third century. He stopped in the junction of the first hall, the room on the right where only the floorboards could be seen and the kitchen on the left that led to a room connected he predicted to the hall he was facing. "Shepard…Commander Shepard?"

Hearing something go bump in the back, he stepped through the kitchen, preferring more open space in which to move his bulk—the linoleum stuck and unstuck from the relief of his frame moving across it on boots shaped for narrow feet.

There through the frame that had been repainted time and again, so that the streaks were thick and heavy over ancient dried cracks and holes, he stopped to take in the sight—on the floor with a rug to cushion her body and head, the woman was seizing….The bump may have been from sliding off the furniture—a sofa with threadbaring cushions.

Kneeling down and crawling over, he went against his instinct not to touch her…She rolled the eyes down from her eyelids and stared at him, her hand on his arm….."Make it stop!" It was a strangled gasp for air and help at the same time. There was a bottle of Moonshiner on the table—he took one look at it and put it to her lips….She rattled her teeth against the bottle pouring into her mouth, sloshing everywhere—he didn't know what else to do but it seemed as though it was what she wanted.

"What else can I do," he removed the bottle from her hands—most of the liquid was on her cheeks and throat, wetting her sweater, soaked into the rug which had an auburn color to it. That choking plea was the last she got out—by this time she was shaking still and had closed her eyes….He felt for her hand and then took the other, letting her hold onto something….It didn't feel right so he pulled a throw blanket off the sofa end and placed it under her head.

The door opened behind him through the kitchen view and the man who'd come by his shop was aiming a pistol at his head, "…You need to back off her now….What did you do…"

"She was shaking," he pointed to the bottle, "….I gave her that when she asked, but she won't say—"

"Get out of the way," he holstered the weapon, a sleek manufacture of highend design, and crossed the floors to get under her waist and knees with his arms….Lifting her with an odd strength for one so average-looking of build, he carefully carried her onto the sofa and sat down. "Shepard…Shep…" His hands were in her hair while she shook and his face in hers, "….It's me, it's me….Kaidan…..You look at me, open your eyes, look at me….You're safe….Here, with me. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner….I'm sorry….I couldn't find you, but I'm here….You're safe….It will be all right." Over and over he spoke to her, calming her, assuring her with touches, whispers, a tight grip as if to squeeze out the shakes until it passed….She smelled rancid with alcohol and gun powder, the mix unique and strange if not disconcerting….What had she been trying to do all those hours alone in the house….Casnar turned himself away and explored the rest of the level while the human man named Kaidan Alenko per his ID from the Systems Alliance Biotics Division continued to care for her….What had she been doing when she was not drinking…Why the shakes and the loss of control over her body?

He found a door leading up to the second level, but before he could open it—he was once again in the hall that now faced the open front doorway—Kaidan called to him to get his bag on the front stoop.

Holding onto her across his lap, Kaidan unzipped the bag while Casnar held onto the top handle, "…What are you going to do for her?"

"How much of that gasoline did you give her to drink," Kaidan ordered him to answer with a bitten tone, he rummaging through the contents of his backpack while Casnar shrugged and answered:

"As much as she wanted…Most of it fell out onto the rug if you use your eyes," this earned a sharp glare from the man whose brown eyes were hooded by the black fringes of eyebrows, "…She could have been drinking it before I stepped in here."

"Do you think she drank a lot or a little…" Kaidan snarled gently through his teeth.

"My educated guess would be she didn't drink it at all, and since half the bottle's on the floor right now, not enough to interfere with whatever you've in mind to help stop her fit," Casnar snapped.

"That's more like it," Kaidan found what he was searching round for and pulled out a small cartridge from a clip purse—he held this to her mouth, "…Bite, Braith," and sliding the nozzle into her teeth, she clamped, there was a hiss, and she instantly went loose in his arms.

"Thank God," she whispered, head lain down on the cushion at the far end of the sofa….Kaidan arranged her arms on her abdomen over the sweater and stretched out her legs to the point both feet—bare and toes in need of a clipping but not so long they looked like talons—were hanging over the end….He sniffed and made a face at the moonshine reek of the throw blanket, which had sopped up the stain in the rug.

"You aren't the patient sort."

"The last time I was patient was back in eighty-six," Kaidan said without looking at him, "…And I swore I'd never been so patient in my life, but it's taken me over a decade to find her and I'm just through with being patient…."

"Who were you being patient for…."

"Her." Kaidan pushed her hair off her brow, the woman now calm, stinking of liquor one hundred percent alcohol and marveling at her choice of poison, "…She always did have a habit of choosing what was wrong for her….and sometimes I wish I didn't have to believe that what she did was right…" He picked up his bag and looked now at his roommate for the moment, "…So now that she's stabilizing…let's get to know what you are. Why are you the only drell I've seen for fifty miles."