Mom?" Shepard said, deeply confused.
"Moria!" Hannah Shepard said with delight and quickly crossed the room and wrapped her daughter in a hug. Shepard half returned it, still feeling completely baffled. Counselor Shepard pulled back from her daughter and looked Moria over. Her hair was a paler red than Moria's and was streaked with grey and silver in places. Hannah Shpard wore it in an intricate plat at the back of her head. Her eyes were a softer green and her face was gently lined around the eyes and mouth from many wide smiles and accusatory squints. Her face fell and she reached out tentatively to touch one of the more wicked scars on Moria's face. "Gods Moria, what happened?" Counselor Shepard then bit her lip, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's a stupid question." Her hands roamed over Moria's face, and Moria, to her deep frustration, felt tears welling in her eyes.
"I'm fine, Mom." She said, placing a hand reassuringly over her mother's.
The Counselor gave her a long look. "But you weren't. For a second time."
Moria shrugged. "Third time's the charm?"
"Moria, don't you dare joke about something like that." Hannah's eyes were shining, her breathing fast. "You've made me face every parent's worst fear twice. How can you-"
Moria squeezed her mother's hand. "I'm sorry Mom. Really, I'm sorry. I'm here. I'm ok. I just… my crew does a lot of gallows humor. It was how we coped."
Hannah Shepard's breathing slowed and she snorted slightly. "How do you feel?"
"Tired a lot. But it's ok. There's just a lot of work to be done."
Hannah's eyes missed nothing. "You have new bruises and fading scabs."
"My sparring partners are turians and a prothean. Chitin knuckles can leave a mark, but I'd like to see an Alliance marine try and bring me down now."
Hannah gently took her daughter's hand, staring at the strands on it. "Hackett says we still don't have an understanding of what these are or how you got them. Is that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am." Shepard said quietly.
"There's a salarian doctor coming here this week. He's been working on the specimens changed by the Reapers. I want him to take a look at you."
"Hold on, stop." Shepard said. "You're the human Counselor?" Hannah nodded, the sunlight through the windows of the rather austere office rippling off the winding weave of her hair. "I knew you were promoted to Admiral during the war." Moria frowned, "when I asked about you when I was in the hospital, Hackett said you were safe and alive, helping to rebuild on Earth and that communications were bad."
"Communications were bad." Hannah said. "And I visited you on Sur'kesh."
"What?" Moria demanded. "Why - why didn't I know?"
"You were unconscious and Dalatrass Linron and the Alliance made private arrangements." Hannah said mildly. "She wanted a personal meeting as part of my consideration to represent Earth on the Council." Shepard did not like the idea of the Dalatrass, whom she had definitely angered by curing the genophage, being involved in her healthcare in any way.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Moria asked.
"We couldn't." Hannah said flatly as she crossed her arms. "We'd been discovering high ranking officials who were indoctrinated every week; pirates, gangs and extremist groups are still trying to take advantage of the instability from our losses in the war. The movements of high ranking officials are being kept as low profile as we can. Everyone's a target right now. And a lot of people were not happy about my appointment." She laughed dryly. "I don't even know that I'm happy about it, or that I deserve it, but I was asked to serve and so I shall."
"Of course you deserve it." Moria said with a frown. "You've always been excellent with interspecies political negotiations. You were on and off the Citadel my whole childhood."
Hannah eyed her daughter. "Mor, they don't want me for my negotiating. They want me for your name."
Moria frowned. "That doesn't make sense. The Council hates me."
Her mother chuckled. "I have to admit when I met with them to receive my appointment they did express that, although they are obviously deeply grateful to you, they are not overly fond of you."
"That's an exaggeration if ever I heard one," Moria said tonelessly.
Moria's mother pursed her lips. "You don't exactly have a habit of doing things the easy way."
Moria made herself swallow old arguments. "Well, it doesn't matter if they did it for the Shepard name. They have Admiral Hannah Shepard and they'll get her tough, but fair diplomacy." she said, forcing a smile.
Hannah sighed. "Maybe. Anyway, I'm sorry for the secrets. I'm Counselor, it's a vipers den. But that's not important." She squinted slightly at her daughter. "Are you ok?"
"Yes, Mom." Moria said earnestly. "I have some… new skills and my biotics have some extra punch, but I'm ok."
"The salarian is going to look at you."
Moria shifted uncomfortably. "Can the Alliance trust him? Can we trust him?"
Hannah nodded. "The Dalatrass appointed him personally. He got tenure at their university very young and the Dalatrass and I have an understanding."
"An understanding?" Moria asked with a raised brow.
"It's nothing," Hannah diffused with a slight eye roll. "Just an agreement between a soldier and a politician." Shepard didn't like the sound of that. Her mothers eagle gaze shifted to the strands on Moria's skin, tracing them up her neck and cheek. "Has anything developed with those things since your last report to Hackett?" She asked.
"Yes." Moria said. "But everything is touch and go, evolving day by day. He and I agreed that I'll let him know when I have something more concrete and worth sharing."
Hannah nodded, "I'll be brought up to speed at that point, then."
"Mom," Moria said. She swallowed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done this kind of thing. She'd never liked doing it and she didn't now. "I… I need your help. And if you're on the Council then you might actually be able to do something about it…"
Hannah Shepard cocked her head slightly and gestured for Moria to take a seat in the chair across from the desk. Hannah perched on the edge of the desk watching her.
Moria took a deep breath. The number of things she needed from the Council had only grown in the time she had been on Palaven. Where was she supposed to start?
"Did Hackett brief you on what happened on the Citadel?" Hackett had actually visited her on Sur'Kesh and had spent some for the first hours when she could talk after waking from her coma debriefing with her on the events on the Crucible. Garrus had been furious, not understanding why the information from him, EDI and the rest of the crew had not been sufficient and why this had to take place now, of all times. Shepard had shared everything that had happened to her with the exception of Liara's theory on her miraculous survival.
"Yes." Hannah said. "The Alliance has shared a version of that with the Council, and the details that will support morale and stability are being circulated along with vids from your service."
Shepard blinked. That was a whole thing she was going to have to address later.
"The galaxy is slowly learning that you not only brought us the plans for the Crucible but were the one to ensure it fired and delivered a blow so devastating that it ended the Reapers' attack and decimated their control systems. You were caught in the blast and have received some kind of exposure that you are still recovering from. The Alliance has not, and will not be sharing the fact that you made a choice about how the Crucible functioned. A few of the top brass are not exactly pleased with your choice."
Shepard felt all the air go out of the room. "Excuse me?"
"There is a small group emerging that believes you deviated from your orders from your C. O. without authorization."
Moria tried to hold back something violent and destructive that was stirring inside her.
"My C.O. had died next to me while we took down the Illusive Man," she said slowly.
"Yes, and this small group believed you should have continued to follow his order of firing the Crucible to destroy the Reapers." Hannah released a long breath through her nose. "Hackett shared your...reasoning...with me and I think your heart was in the right place, but others don't share that opinion."
Your heart was in the right place. How many times had she heard that before? Moria was learning a lot of new languages and cultures since she had woken from her coma, but she was fluent in Shepard. Your heart was in the right place and you did what you thought was right were common turns of phrase used by the humans where another species might say that they supported someone. However, in "Shepard" they never meant I support your decision. No, your heart was in the right place usually meant the exact opposite.
"There are others," Hannah continued, glancing down at her hands as she fiddled with a ring on her left hand, "Who believe you cost the Alliance an unparalleled resource. A weapons system like the Reapers? Under Alliance control? We would be-"
"It wouldn't be under Alliance control." Shepard said quietly.
Her mother frowned.
"They would be under my control. Or the control of whatever shredded thing was left of my psyche." Moria watched her mother, feeling exhausted again.
Hanna's expression was carefully blank. "But you are Alliance."
"I am more than the Alliance."
Hannah's lip tightened as Moria's mother, too, held back words of old arguments.
"It doesn't matter now," she continued after a moment, "you found a way to minimize the damage and effect of the Crucible and ceased the destruction the Reapers were causing and everyone appreciates that."
Moria took a deep breath. "One of the… developments since I activated the Crucible is that I can communicate with the Reapers that are left," she said.
Counselor Shepard's eyes widened. "Can you control them?" She asked quickly.
"No I cannot." Moria said very slowly. "And others can communicate with them too, in different ways. The geth can communicate with them. An asari has been able to regularly communicate with one and it is likely they may be able to communicate with more. They are helping to rebuild on Rannoch and they can likely assist here on Palaven and Earth… anywhere, really."
She could see her mother's mind was working quickly. "That is excellent. Can you send them to Earth quickly?"
Moria took a centering breath. "I can try to ask some to come to Earth."
Hannah waved off the correction.
"Mom, they are alive and sentient. Just like the geth. Just like us. They have memories and feelings like us and probably need purpose, like us. I think they might find some purpose and connection in helping us rebuild."
"Logical. I can get you in touch with the generals in charge of our reconstruction and you can begin coordinating." Hannah crossed to the desk and began flipping through something on a tablet. "I know that it's not as fast paced as the work you prefer, but we all have to serve where we can now."
Moria nodded. "I can help with that. But if we are going to be asking them for their assistance we need to be able to help them in return."
Hannah frowned. "They're enormous synthetic war machines with some dusty alien consciousnesses rattling around inside. They don't need food or resources for survival, what would they need? If they suffer damage our engineers can do their best to repair them-"
"They need a voice in this world."
"Well you can tell us what they think-"
"All synthetics need a voice. The geth, any AI, especially the one in my crew, EDI." Hannah had gone still, watching her daughter. Moria pressed her advantage. "We have no idea how many sentient synthetics we now share the galaxy with, but most of them were Reapers and we know how hard they can hit. We have to go to them and offer them a place among us; a voice among us, if we want to make sure we can begin to live together peacefully." She thought of the loss and pain she had felt when connected with Echo. "We have to respect them. They have memories and have suffered beyond what we endured in the war. And they have requests." Hannah raised an eyebrow at these words. "They do not wish to be called Reapers. Those are the things that destroyed and harvested their worlds like they did ours. They have asked to be called the Ascendent, like ancestor, or one who came before." She stood up, walking towards her mother. "Mom, they are eager to help on Rannoch, they are protective of quarians, especially the children, and cared for me when I was tired. Mom, they picked a name that implies a connection to us." She looked at her mother pleadingly. "They want to be part of the world again and we have to respect that."
Hannah took a few steps from Moria, considering. She sighed. "Well… I suppose I could talk to the other Counselors and see if we can make you an ambassador or something like that."
Moria shook her head. "That's not enough, Mom. We almost lost everything because of a leftover program to deal with hostilities between synthetics and organics. We have to start making changes now if we don't want that kind of war to start again. We have to give them a seat on the Council." She watched her mothers face and then added slowly, "I've spoken with the Primarch and he agrees with me. He is pressing for Councilor Sparatus to support this; if you join him that's half the Council already in agreement. It might make the others really consider this."
Her mother looked at her for a long moment, searching her face. Moria tried to steady her breath. She was unprepared for this. She didn't know who she was appealing to: mother or politician. She knew which she would rather be dealing with….which would be the easier option. But...easy never seemd to work for her. Hannah looked away for a moment and then those pale eyes flicked back to her daughters. "Gods, Moria, you're serious, aren't you?" She took a breath and her body relaxed. "I can't do that."
"But it's the right thing to do!"
Hannah held up a hand. "I understand that it is, I'm not blind. But that doesn't mean I can support your agenda of adding a fifth seat, a synthetic seat, to the Council."
"And why can't you support this if you see that this is the right thing to do?" Moria demanded.
"Because it's not as simple as right and wrong." Her mother said. She ran a hand along her elaborate braided hair and began walking around to sit at her desk.
"But it is." Moria said to her mother's back. Counselor Shepard sat down, steepled her fingers and gave Moria an exasperated look over their tops.
"It's not." The Councilor said wearily. "Humans have only been on the Council for three years. The other species already consider us to be impatient and juvenile. If I press for more change this fast it is only going to make them feel those assumptions are justified. It took them hundreds of centuries to add the turians to the council, and like us, they only did it because the turians showed they could be serviceable muscle."
Shepard crossed her arms. "And the geth helped turn the tide of the war. My friend EDI was the only reason that I was able to change the Crucible's programming. They just saved everyone's ass like the turians and humans did. We can use the same line of reasoning to support giving them a seat."
Hannah shook her head. "The geth have been killing across the galaxy until you stopped them a few months ago. And the Alliance is not going to fully disclose the details of how you activated the Crucible. The Dalatrass and I are aware of the specifics but that's it."
"And why does the Dalatrass know what happened?" Moria demanded.
"Because Linron is very shrewd and wasn't going to allow you to receive treatment until she knew what her people were going to be trying to save." Hannah said. "But she and I have agreed to keep that information private; it will not be extended to Sparatus or Tevos. It raises too many issues." She relaxed her shoulders with a long breath. "You're asking for too much change and it's just too fast."
Moria snapped. "Well they have to start letting things happen fast." She heard a whisper in her mind: she must flee, she must escape. Her heart was beating rapidly now. She shook her head as if she could clear the whispering voices away. "We might not have lost so much in the war if they would have listened to me sooner! I was warning them about the Reapers for years. I saved them twice, I almost lost everything saving everyone, and now I'm telling them they have to pick up the pace or something might happen that I can't stop." She ran a hand through her hair. "And now that you're on the Council you have to help me do that!"
"Moria Shepard!" Her mother shouted suddenly. "Do you really not see why the Council picked me? They picked me to put a check on you."
There was silence in the room.
Moria's jaw was tight, adrenalyn singing in her veins. Her mother's words were short. "Yes, you saved them twice, you are the hero of the Citadel. You were brought back by terrorists and then destroyed them, you are the hero of Tuchanka, the savior of Palaven, the one who brought the geth and quarians to peace and then walked into hell on Earth, ended the war and returned from the dead a second time." Her eyes were locked on Moria. "You terrify the Council. There is not a single individual name in any of our histories that is known by common folk in every system as yours is. What would they do if you called on all them to support you?" She leaned back in her chair. "I am here to put a check on your power. If the others don't support something you ask and I do, it will look like nepotism, or that I'm your puppet. If Earth is going to be seen as strong and independent we need to be seen saying no to our Spectre." She sighed wearily. "The Council gets a boost in public support because someone on it shares your name and they deprive you of a vote for anything you bring to them that they don't like. If I push back against them, the Alliance, and I loose our credibility."
Moria stared at her. "They can't seriously be playing games like this after everything that happened?"
"Of course they are." Her mother said softly. "And I'm sorry but there is no imminent threat and so I have to play the game as best I can for Earth; and that means I can't support you in this until the others do. It's encouraging to hear you were able to get the support of Primarch Victus and hopefully Sparatus will listen to him. Maybe he can bring the others around and then I can give the notion my support" She frowned slightly. "It's a shame that Victus is so new to the position and has a reputation for playing fast and loose with strategy like you do, but I suppose that can't be helped."
Moria was silent, her lips tight. Her mother eyed her. "I am sorry Moria, but the job comes first."
"Your job is protecting Earth." Moria said curtly.
Her mother's stare was stern. "And just because you and I have a difference in opinion regarding the execution of that job doesn't mean I'm not doing it." She snorted slightly. "I've been doing it since before you were born. I am proud of how you have done your job, but do not presume to tell me how to do mine." She shifted slightly. "I hear the Vakarians are permitting you to stay with them. Please give them my thanks as an Admiral and as your mother. I knew Castis when he was in C-Sec. He's a good man."
Moria chose her words carefully. "He said you ended up in his office with a broken nose because you thought it was your duty to intervene and stop an armed robbery instead of wait for help."
Her mother's eyes narrowed, not missing the suggestion in Moria's words. "All Shepards are idealistic and hot headed when they're young. It's in our blood." She stood and crossed to a small bar that had been placed in a corner by the window. She poured herself a drink; something else that ran in their blood. "Luckily, we also have a tendency to grow out of it." She stared out the window at the snow capped mountains." Are you comfortable at the Vakarian residence? I can arrange quarters for you with the rest of the Alliance delegation if you would prefer."
After days of frustration with the heightened turian sense of smell and body chemistry, Shepard actually found herself cursing human's more muted awareness. She hadn't actually had to do this yet. She supposed Garrus had told Atala, but Moria had not been in the room to observe his strategy in doing so.
"I am very comfortable." She said.
"You're sure?" Her mother pressed. Moria was beginning to think the question had been posed for a reason other than gauging her comfort. "Be careful, Moria. You spend a lot of time with the other species and you're not an ambassador. The Normandy's eclectic roster has been creating positive PR for the Alliance, but you can't forget that your people are watching, too. You can't be seen as being too close to the other species as if you prefer them to your own. You're human, remember."
Shepard cleared her throat. "Well, people are going to have to get used to me being close to the turians, at least."
"And why would that be? It's not going to look good." Her mother said, sipping her drink and tuning to regard her daughter over the crystal rim.
"Because I'm joining clan Vakarian."
There was the sound of a glass shattering in the office. Shards gleamed on the floor and the pant leg of Councilor Shepard's uniform was wet with spilled whiskey. The door to the office snapped open and the officer who had ushered Shepard over the threshold stuck her head in. "Ma'am is everythin -"
"It's fine." Councilor Shepard said evenly. "Please close the door."
"I heard something break, do you-
"Close the door."
The door snapped shut. Councilor Shepard stepped over the shattered glass, walked to the bar and poured herself another drink, popped a cube of ice in it, took a sip and then held the glass to her forehead, looking weary. "The daughter or son?" She asked heavily, still holding the glass to her forehead.
"General Vakarian." Shepard said as calmly as she could.
"So the son, Gorrus-"
"Garrus."
"Whatever." The Councilor sighed. "You can't make anything easy, can you, Moria?"
Moria was silent. Her jaw ached at this point.
"He has served on your ship." Hannah said slowly. "You are his superior officer."
"He is a General now." Moria said quietly.
"Of a token task force that was thrown together. I've seen his service record. He's dropped out of just about everything you can drop out of."
"Please do not talk about him that way." Moria said with steel in her voice.
But her mother merely waved her off again. "That doesn't even matter; he's still only a General and you are 'Commander Shepard.'" She stared incredulously at her daughter. "Moria, what the hell are people going to think? Do you have any idea what they are going to say about you and your mandibled lover?"
"If you have a problem with him being a turian-"
Hannah cut her off, "I don't give a damn that he's a turian. You've made it perfectly clear that you prefer every species out there apart from humans, apparently, and I've made my peace with it. I wouldn't care if he were a prothean. I don't care what he is." She rubbed in frustration at her temple "I care about the fact that he is someone who served under you and has received advancement because of his association with you and that is going to bring nothing but negative association to our name." She took a long drink and put the glass down. "And you've done yourself no favor as far as bringing this 'Reaper seat' thing to the Council by being with him." Her voice lifted slightly in exasperation. "The turian councilor supports the human Spectre who happens to be sleeping with a turian?!" She stopped suddenly, frowned, and her head whipped to Moria. "How many people know the two of you are involved?" Those pale green eyes narrowed. "We can just have you break it off. It's our best-"
"I'm not breaking anything off just to try and influence the Council." Moria growled.
Hannah gave her a hard look and Moria glared back. Then the Councilor sighed. "Fine. But you better be sure you know what you're getting yourself into." Her light green eyes held Moria's. "What you're getting Earth into."
Shepard raised her chin. "I'm joining a family of soldiers who, as part of their customs, not mine, will pledge to support my people." She took a deep breath. "And a male who supported my mission to protect everyone, including Earth, for years while others ignored us."
Hannah rolled her eyes. "'Male.' So you're talking like them now, too."
"He's not a 'man.'"
Hannah pressed her glass to her forehead again. "No, he couldn't have been. That would have been too easy."
Shepard stood up and started walking towards the door.
"Oh, don't storm out of here like that."
Moria whirled to face her mother. "And why not? You don't approve? You're worried about how it's going to make the "Shepard" name look? Well I don't care."
Hannah set the glass down on the desk with dangerous force. "When are you going to learn that the issue isn't whether you care or not? You affect others - me - your grandparent's legacy. Your actions don't exist in a vacuum, Moria! They have consequences."
Moria laughed softly. "Oh, I know they do." She held out her hands and brought the green glow in the strand to life. "I am dealing with the consequences of my actions every day and it is hard and terrifying but I would do it again in a heartbeat because we are all still here." Her mother's eyes were wide as she stared at the glowing strands. "Inaction has its consequences too." Moria whispered. "All the colonies and cities that were wiped out by the Reapers without a fight were because of inaction. People died in terror with no hope because of inaction."
The human Councilor threw her hands in the air. "We're not discussing the war Moria, we're discussing your fraternizing with someone below your rank."
"Dad was below your rank when you met." Moria snapped.
"Your father was a medic on a completely different ship. He never served under my command."
"But if he had?" Moria pressed. "If you had met someone you felt the same way about, in your command? Would you have just walked away?"
"I was a captain, he was a medic, and neither of us had the eyes of the galaxy on us or were a symbol for the Alliance." Hannah said sternly.
"I didn't ask for any of that." Moria said.
Her mother pressed her fingers to her forehead. "That's not how life works, Moria. Our service is asked of us, and it is our duty to answer."
Moria snorted. "You know you talk about duty more than the turians do."
Hanna looked at her coldly. "Is that supposed to be an insult?"
"Maybe."
"Well it's not. And I would have thought you would have grown out of a petty remark like that."
Moria glared at her. "Why don't I just leave? You don't approve of my choice. Fine. You never have. That's nothing new." Her mother. Her mother was the Councilor. Her mother was here on Palaven. Today. Because, you know she didn't have enough problems already. She sighed. "I don't have time to fight with you about who I'm in a relationship with. I exist in my second dose of borrowed time and I don't have enough of it to spare for your bullshit." She swallowed and pinned her emerald eyes on her mother. "We haven't really been family in a decade so let's stop pretending ok?" She laughed coldly. "Why don't you tell the rest of the Council what a disappointing mess I am to you? It'll free you of their hold. You can all ignore me, together, till something else comes along to wipe out all life, but while you do - I'm going to go be with the people I choose. The people who choose me because of who I am and because of my actions." She took a deep breath, stood to attention and saluted her mother. "So Councilor Shepard, I thank you for your time, and if you require my services please make arrangements with my commanding officer Admiral Hackett and he-"
"Oh stop being ridiculous, Moria." Hannah snapped.
"I'm not being ridiculous. I apologize that we share the same name and I have caused so many problems for you, but apart from that, as far as I'm concerned you are just the Councilor for Earth and I am a Commander so unless you have an order for me in service of the Alliance you and I have nothing to say to each other."
Hannah's eyes were burning. "You can't just turn your back on me, Moria. I'm your only family."
Shepard gazed at her mother for a long moment before saying. "Not anymore."
"So you just want to write me off?"
"No." Moria said. "I don't. But I am not going to set aside my happiness for your pride and reputation. They have not asked me to choose them over you." They stared at each other for a long moment and Moria added, "But if you ask me to choose, you need to remember that I am your only family."
The Counselor turned away from her daughter and stared out the window. It wasn't really silence that hung between them. It was echoes: echos of old shouting matches, of slammed doors, of calls left unanswered and messages unreturned. Those echoes had haunted Moria once. There had been a time when her armor's shields would go out and she couldn't hear the orders being shouted over the coms or gunfire. She could only hear the last thing she'd shouted at those cold green eyes. But that girl had died. Had literally died: had drawn the frozen empty void into her lungs for long enough to stop hating herself for the things she'd said to her family and start hating herself for the things she should have said to the people who should have been her family.
"Does he make you happy?" The words were quiet and brought Moria slamming back to the present, feeling her lungs spasm a little as they did when she thought about the Normandy's destruction.
"Yes."
The way the sun hit Hannah's hair made it look as if she wore a cornet of silver and gold. Her wide shoulders were squared and her silhouette was regal. How many times had Moria come into a room and seen her mother standing like that? Imposing. Confident. Unreachable. Moria felt small and uncertain in comparison, and she was startled when she heard her mother's voice shake slightly as she asked, "Is he going to be someone who makes you care about staying alive? Or am I just not going to be lamenting alone that you're so reckless with your life?"
Moria's chest hurt at the words. "He makes me not want to get shot." She said quietly. "And he's an excellent shot himself, so my odds are better when he's around."
The Councilor was quiet for a moment, then slowly turned to face Moria. "Then I'll have to let him know that he'll have an endless line of credit with the Alliance for ammunition."
Well… that hadn't gone at all like it did in the romance vids. Not that Moria should be surprised. Their relationship had never been like others. They were never just mother and daughter. Duty, planet, and the Alliance were always there with them.
"Do the two of you have a time table?" Hannah asked.
"No." Shepard said. "Things… only became official last night."
Hananh ran a hand along her braid again. "So we could have walked it back if you were willing." She saw Moria's brow crease. "It's fine. I'm not going to ask that of you." She bit her lip seeming to weigh her next words and then asked, do… do you want to do something tomorrow?"
Shepard felt like she had been punched in the gut. Tomorrow. How had she forgotten? She... "No." She said softly, forcing the guilty thoughts aside. "Primarch Victus has asked me to speak to you and the rest of the Council about the victims the Reapers changed and I have to help his people prepare." She watched for disappointment in her mothers face, but the consummate politician was unreadable. "I… ran some tests and communicated with the brutes and marauders here." She continued. " The people they used to be are still there, now that the actual Reapers are gone. It's probably the same for the victims of other species, too."
Hannah's brows rose. "Well that's quite the development."
"Hunting them has to stop. And they need medical help. The ones here are deteriorating and we're trying to figure out how to stop it."
Hannah snorted quietly, "you don't stop do you?" Moria didn't answer. Hannah's eyes searched her daughter's heavily scarred face. "You know it's not your job to save everyone, Moria."
Moria laughed darkly and tilted her head slightly. "But will someone else fight for them if I don't?"
Her mother didn't answer.
"I'm going to be late for family dinner."
Hannah's lips tightened, but her expression was otherwise sereen. "Thank you for coming to see me."
Moria frowned. "Of course." She paused for a moment, "if I'd have known you - do you want me to see if you can come for dinner?"
"I can't." Hannah said breezily. "I also have a lot to prepare, and you just brought me even more work." She walked towards the door with Moria and then added with a tiny bit of warmth. "But maybe another night. I want to see you more while we're both on the same planet." She cleared her throat, giving her daughter a quick glance. "Gods knows it happens rarely enough." She opened the door for Moria, who nodded in thanks and stepped into the hall to find Castis standing before her.
The human Councilor frowned. Castis nodded politely to her and said, "Councilor Shepard, It's a pleasure to see you again after all these years, and congratulations on your appointment." He could see the Shepard women's confusion. "The Primarch asked me to meet with you today in the place of Admiral Vietarus as she was called away on urgent business. Hopefully you won't find me to be too poor of a substitute."
Hannah nodded. "Good to see you alive, Castis." She raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't give an old acquaintance a little warning about these two when you heard I would be landing on your planet?"
He inclined his head slightly. "Unfortunately for the Commander a few nosy turians got wind of their connection before she and Garrus were able to share the news on their own terms. I thought the Commander deserved the opportunity to share it with you and celebrate privately." He smiled slightly at Moria and added, "We have been honored by her presence in our home. My daughter, Atala speaks highly of her. The Commander is a credit to the Alliance."
Hannah was watching Castis closely as he spoke. "Well you're as sharp as ever, Chief Vakarian. And congratulations on your appointment as well." She looked to Moria. "I look forward to seeing you more later this week," she gave Castis a dry smile, "but I'm afraid this pair of old, highly unqualified survivors need to talk about putting the world back together. Think we can manage to do that, Chief Vakarian?"
Castis chuckled. "Who knows. Luckily the Commander is here to put out any fires we start."
The human Councilor laughed heartily at that, beckoning for Castis to follow her inside. "You have a lot to learn about her, then. I hate to break it to you but she usually starts the fires."
Castis glanced over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him and said, "dinner's been pushed to nine. Make sure Garrus isn't late."
Commander Shepard stood in the hallway staring at the door for a moment feeling extremely uncomfortable. She shook her head and began to make her way back to the Vakarian home to have a very strong drink.
/./././././././././././././
"Damn." Garrus said. "She called my bluff." He sighed dramatically. "Well Commander, you're free to go. I got the promotion I wanted, months ago, by the way, but that was all I was here for. Now that it's been revealed to you, no point in keeping up the charade." Shepard pulled her face out of her pillow and glared at the turian lounging on the bed next to her. "I'm not interested in you now that you know. Last night was all just a part of the sham, you are, as humans say, free as a bird. The sex wasn't even that good."
A hard gust of air slammed through the room and there was a very loud thud accompanied by an "Ow" as Shepard used a shockwave to throw Garrus off the bed. He hauled himself to a sitting position with a groan and leaned on the mattress staring at her. "Ok," he said, "I deserved that. The sex was phenomenal." He rested his chin on his hand, staring at her. "I'm sorry, Mor."
Moria groaned. "Actually, don't call me that right now. It's really only you and her that do and the way it sounds when it's dripping with disapproval is still ringing in my ears."
He crawled across the bed towards her and tucked his face close to her ear. "I can think of something we could try… something to make it sound different in your head. Something that might make you stop thinking all together." His breath was hot and he ran a talon down her cheek.
Shepard made a noise of longing but pushed him away. "I will definitely take you up on that later." She said, "But it's almost nine, and apparently your father thinks I'm your secretary or something because he keeps putting me in charge of getting you places on time."
Garrus gave her a lingering look at her words.
She frowned. "What?"
"Well… you being my secretary… we could explore that idea later…"
Moria seized the pillow and began beating him with it. "You need to stop opening files from Joker!"
There were still a few feathers stuck to his horns as they descended the stairs and walked into the dining room. Shepard supposed she could use the array of knives she was becoming accustomed to dining with to soothe her anger by enacting a few murder fantasies on her meal. Many of the 'vegetables' that were 'cooked' for her were so hard, because they were undercooked or burned, that she had to stab at them several times anyway before her blade found purchase in their rock hard flesh. She could just pretend to really be struggling. She crossed the threshold of the dining room and stopped dead, staring at the table in confusion.
Atala and Castis had already been seated but they both stood up as Shepard and Garrus came into the room. Castis gave her a warm smile and Atala was beaming. The table was laid with knives, forks, spoons, butter plates and rounded butter knives. She instantly caught the aroma of roast lamb and baked bread and saw that an incredibly human meal had been set before her.
Hot breath tickled her ear and Garrus whispered, "surprise."
"Congratulations, you two." Castis said softly. "Come sit down."
Moria walked forward and took a seat, Garrus settling next to her. "What is this?" She asked.
"It's human stuff!" Atala said. "Do you like it?"
"I do." Shepard said. "I just don't know why it's here."
Castiss looked at her. "In turian tradition, the clan share a meal together after a successful Asking to celebrate. You have been deeply immersed in our culture of late, so we thought we would have a human meal.
"Where did you get the food?" Shepard asked.
"The Alliance delegation brought more human resources for the embassy to supply their people for the summit. Atala called in a favor to procure some human food in preparation for tonight and," he paused, "this afternoon your mother offered to arrange for this meal. She said it was your favorite. She thought that the lamb would truly be something that we could all enjoy together." He nodded to Atala, "the two of us have taken antihistamines so that we can partake in the levo food with you."
"I like the smell of it." Atala said. "I'm so glad your nose is crap. You humans are fun. We can never surprise each other with food. The minute Maximus starts cooking something we can smell it through the whole house."
"Is it ok we did this?" Garrus asked tentatively, bending slightly in his seat to study her face.
Shepard blinked back a few tears. "Yes, of course it is. Thank you."
"Good," said Castis. He picked up his steak knife and stared dubiously at the remaining dining utensils. "Now how the hell do you hold these things?"
Shepard, along with Garrus, who had spent enough time on the Normandy to be nearly an expert in human dining utensils, showed Atala and Castis how to hold the forks and use them to hold and cut the portions of meat on their plate. Castis was deeply confused as to why there was a knife that was not as sharp as the steak knife. Shepard tried to explain that you didn't always need a very sharp knife to cut something, and that it saved time because there were fewer knives that would eventually need to be sharpened. This caused Atala to bewilderedly ask why anyone would have a dull knife unless they were torturing someone.
Things became very heated at the table when the soon-to-be couple tried to educate Atala on the use of spoons. Garrus told her that she was to hold the spoon, an implement he said was for spreading things like butter, by its rounded handle. When Shepard attempted to rescue Atala from her brother's prank, Atala refused to believe her, accusing Shepard of pulling her leg as Shepard had when she recommended swimming with sharks to the spy. She also pointed out that the oval head of the spoon was much easier to hold than the handle (which it was for a three fingered turian). Shepard continued to insist that it was for their soup. Castis backed his daughter up by saying it was ridiculous that one would try to use a utensil with such a pathetically shallow depression to consume soup when it would be much more efficient to pick up the bowl and drink it, and told Shepard to stop trying to trick him as he had seen humans on the Citadel consume soup that way at one of the most prestigious sushi restaurants. Neither of them believed Shepard until she pulled up several vids on her omnitool of humans eating in this way, at which point Atala roared with anger and threw her steak knife at Garrus. He managed to dodge the flying blade and it ended up lodged in the dining room wall. Castis completely ignored this and delivered his own assault of verbal daggers at his son.
The butter knife was a hopeless situation. Castis merely frowned when she told him what it was. The set of dining utensils they had procured from the Alliance was very elegant and the butterknife had no edge at all. Atala and Castis did not understand why you would need a knife for something like bread or butter when they were so malleable on their own and did not consider spreading things to be the job of a knife. Eventually Castis picked up the butter knife (holding the blade between his fingers and the handle up in the air) and glowered at it. His eyes flicked to Shepard and he said with a frown. "This thing is an insult to knives." And he refused to touch it the rest of the evening.
Maximus had actually cooked the vegetables to perfection, and there was a lovely and fresh salad, neither of which were favorites of the turians, especially since the preparation was rather simple. Castis described bread rolls as "cloud meat." He had eaten it before on the Citadel but never in the form of a dinner roll. Atala had insisted that the butter knife was clearly pointless as one could simply rip the bread in half and then rub it along the stick of butter to coat it before eating. She did like butter and at the end of the meal cut a chunk off the end of the stick with her knife and licked at it with her long blue tongue.
"So," Atala said between long licks of butter. "I might be going to Omega for a few days after the summit."
Garrus frowned. "Why?"
"Classified." Atala said.
Garrus rolled his eyes. "So why are you telling us?"
"Because I was going to see if there was any fun, illegal thing you wanted me to bring you back as an Asking gift?" She pointed her knife at Moria. "But no red sand for you, Shepard. You're supercharged enough as it is."
Shepard shook her head. "Oh Gods, I'd never touch the stuff, it's nasty."
"Atala," Castis said, not looking at her as he used his fork with great concentration, "I feel it's my duty to remind you that you are a member of the turian military and a Vakarian which means that it is your job to uphold the law and protect Palaven."
"Yes, Dad. But I am also a Kabalim which means most of the time my job is to break lots of laws without people knowing in order to protect Palaven. And my ship has a compartment that customs doesn't know about." She grinned wickedly at Shepard and Garrus." So what do the two of you want?"
Castis sighed heavily and Garrus merely said. "Just do your job and come back quickly. Omega's a shithole."
Atala took a sip of her wine, a red she had assured Shepard would pair well with the lamb, (which it did). "I think I might hang around for a few days extra. There's this merc hunter I used to hear about on Omega that Vietarus had wanted me to look into nearly two years ago, but I had to take leave and delay the assignment when mom got bad." Garrus looked up at her in concern, and she soothed him saying, "It was before we had salarian help."
Garrus returned to pretending to enjoy his salad for Shepherd's benefit, but she saw him glancing through the dining room door to the west wing a few times.
"Anyway," said Atala, "from the reports I heard I'm pretty sure this chick is ex-turian military."
"Why's that?" Shepard asked.
"Based on how she runs her stuff. There is little to no personal data we can find, just a kill list and some custom gun orders. Our ranks are almost empty so I've been authorized to track her down and recruit her if I can. Add a few more deadly people for when we inevitably run into trouble."
Garrus chuckled. "You sound like Shepard, she basically grabbed everyone messed up and deadly that she could in order to take on the Collectors."
Shepard shrugged. "It worked."
Atala nodded. "My strategy exactly. This chick's meant to be an incredible shot, too." She squinted at her brother. "I'll have to see if she can come to Palaven to out-shoot you."
He grinned back at Atala, displaying all of his teeth. "I'd like to see her try." He picked up his wine and then took a sip. "Not that it's going to happen."
"If she works with us though, she'll have to ditch her stupid name." Atala said.
Shepard frowned. "Stupid name?"
Atala sniggered. "She calls herself 'Archangel'.'"
Councilor Shepard had been correct in her guesses about the lamb. It had always been Moria's favorite and the Vakarians now insisted that it was theirs. Atala had ended up licking some of the gravy off the platter they had served it from, enjoying the salty flavor and humiliating her father. Castis called her a rabid varren and swiped the nearly clean platter from her hands. They had inquired where humans hunted lamb and Shepard had explained about farms, which it turned out turians did not really have as most of the things they consumed were too wild and violent to keep contained in a pen in large numbers. Castis looked a little troubled to learn that he was eating such a young animal, but Atala insisted that she thought it tasted so good she wouldn't have cared if it could speak.
Garrus liked mint sauce, Shepard learned. Her mother had sent along a bottle as Shepard was loath to eat lamb without it. He also kept shaking the bottle, watching the small leaves drift in the sauce and said he felt Shepard had been holding out on him by not providing more visually entertaining foods and condiments on the Normandy. She suspected he had a sweet tooth because he also adored the chocolate mousse that had been served as dessert; another of Shepard's favorites. Castis had actually spat out his first mouthful, to Atala's delight, completely taken aback by the texture. While Atala cackled and Castis wiped up the mousse he had spat over the table, Garrus leaned forward and whispered in Shepard's ear that if there was leftover mousse he wanted to try eating it off her.
/././././././././././././
Garrus thought that the Asking dinner had been perfect. Teaching Atala and his father how to use the human utensils was a literal way that he and Sheaprd were able to work as a unit, perhaps a teasing, whispering, spoon sabotage unit, but a unit nonetheless. It also placed Shepard in the position of power and certainty that evening and caused Atala and Castis to depend on her for guidance. He watched her lead them with grace and mirth, her eyes sparkling at his father's disdain for the butter knife (which was well founded, as it was a ridiculous implement).
He had been wary when his father explained about Councilor Shepard supplying the lamb. Shepard had been very upset when she returned from the surprise family reunion and he didn't want anything to somber the mood that evening. "Sometimes the older generation needed to be given the chance to catch up to the younger." Castis had said, watching Garrus. "Many of us have held a single position or idea for as long as you have been alive. We can have some ingrained reactions when we learn something new. But we also have the wisdom to understand that a small action can contain a great apology. Give Councilor Shepard a chance." And he had. He hoped it had been alright. Several times during the meal he caught Moria fiddling with the bottle that contained the mint sauce, lost in thought. Moria had definitely been delighted by the lamb and her relief at hearing mint sauce had been included was comparable to when she discovered she'd been assigned a combative mission rather than a diplomatic one.
A few hours later, Shepard was putting the human dining set away so that it could be returned to the Vena Center. Castis and Atala had tried to insist that she shouldn't do any work that evening, but she knew they would be hopeless at placing the utensils in the very specific felt-lined depressions in the box with their much larger fingers. She claimed that they would be offering her a grave insult in human customs if they did not allow her to do this task. Atala backed off, muttering that between Shepard and Garrus she was never going to know what human customs were actually real. Castis had looked suspicious but had allowed her to finish the task. She was nearly finished when she discovered that a butter knife was missing. She'd checked the dining room and kitchen but hadn't seen any sign of it. The steak knife Atala had thrown at Garrus had already been retrieved from where it had sat lodged in the wall for their entire meal. Shepard wasn't sure where Maximus was - perhaps he knew where the knife had gotten to? She began walking upstairs. Castis and Garrus were in Castis' office going over more plans for the summit and she didn't want to bother them or be dragged into the discussions herself. She was too tired tonight.
She walked along the hall to Atala's room and found the door open. "Hey Atala," she called as she strolled in "Do you know how to-" She caught sight of the turian crouched on the floor by the side of the bed shoving something underneath. Shepard froze. Atala stared at her and ran a hand across her nose with a sniff.
"What are you doing here?" Atala asked tensely.
"I came to ask-"
"This is my room, Shepard, you shouldn't just barge in."
"Oh," Shepard said slowly. "Do you really want me to take the time to unpack the extreme hypocrisy of that statement?" Shepard hadn't wanted to catch Atala off-guard like that but her day had been far too emotionally taxing to put up with anything as ridiculous as Atala complaining about someone barging in uninvited.
"It's still my room." Atala said quietly.
"I'm sorry. I thought you would smell me coming."
"I-I was distracted."
Shepard's eyes narrowed. "What's under your bed?"
"Porn, dust and empty boxes of ammunition." Atala said with perfect calm.
Shepard raised her eyebrow. "Not some piece of data on me or something made and/or ordered for me using stolen data?"
"No." Atala said.
"Then why are you so jumpy?"
"It's none of your damn business, Shepard." She scooted forward a few inches on the floor as if to block a very specific segment of the bed."
"If you are doing more things with my information it absolutely is my damn business."
"Well I'm not. What do you want? I have shit to do."
Shepard was confused. Atala was always full of sass and a pain but very rarely had she been outwardly rude to the Commander. "Do you know where Maximus is?"
"No."
Shepard sighed. "Well, there's a butter knife missing from the dinner set. If you see him later, ask him if he's seen it." Shepard started to turn away from Atala and leave the cranky turian to whatever she was doing when Atala suddenly scooted back, pulled out a large, shallow box and opened the lid. Shepard caught a glance of gleaming silver as Atala snatched something out of the box and closed the lid again. She tossed the missing butter knife at Shepard's feet. Shepard bent to pick it up and frowned at Atala questioningly. Atala merely held her gaze, her face impassive.
"Is that a box of knives?"
"...yes."
Shepard was quiet for a moment. "Cool," she said at last, then fiddled with the butter knife for a moment before asking, "can I see?"
Atala frowned at her, clearly thinking hard. "Fine." She slowly opened the lid and Shepard crossed to her and took a seat on the floor, hugging her knees. The box contained dozens and dozens of knives in every style Shepard had ever seen and quite a few that were completely foreign to her. A disturbing number of the knives had edges that were crusted with something that was a very dark navy, burgundy or green.
"You know you left blood on a lot of these, right?" Shepard said casually.
"Yes."
"And… you know that's not good for knives?"
"Yes."
"Ok."
They were quiet for a minute.
"Why do some of them have blood?"
"Because they cut something."
"Ok."
They were both quiet for another long minute. Shepard cocked her head to one side. "Is this like how you keep track of your kill count?"
Atala laughed dryly. "No, there would be a lot more."
Shepard placed her chin on her hands. "I killed a merc once who wore a necklace of old bullet casings to mark every kill he'd made."
Atala frowned. "Was it a really, really long chain or did he just suck at his job?"
"Bit of both. There were like a hundred and twelve shells on the necklace, so it went around his neck several times and also looped across his torso - which was pretty impressive - and he was salarian so he'd been killing for a shorter period of time compared to other murderous fuckheads. But when he ran they all made a jingling noise so it was really, really easy to take him out."
Atala snorted. She picked up a knife with steel that had a purplish hue to it and some dried green blood along the edge and fiddled with it idly. Shepard continued. "I used to think it would be cool to have some kind of kill count marker like that; tattoos or scars, not something as stupid as a bulllet necklace."
"Why didn't you pick one?"
"One, I just couldn't make up my mind and two, I wiped out a whole system of batarians so there's not much point now seeing as my count is officially too numerous for any of those kinds of things."
"Fair."
"They all kind of blur together after you reach two hundred thousand anyway."
Shepard's eyes drifted over the knives. She thought she recognized one with some dark navy blood crusted on it. She frowned. "Do you steal these?"
"Mostly."
"Why?"
"To remember stuff."
"I don't think I get it."
Atala sighed. She picked up the only knife in the box with a sheath. Shepard recognized it as a combat knife. It was a mottled grey that was similar to the color of Atala's carapace, if a few shades darker. The sheath was made of leather that had been colored to have the same appearance, but a thin line of what looked like turquoise stone ran around the hilt of the sheath and across the petite guard of the blade. "This was my aunt's." Atala said softly. "She left it to me but I wasn't allowed to have it till I was nine." She ran a thumb across the stones on the hilt. "I was really excited and impatient so I stole a dining knife to practice with, so I'd be ready when I was older. Then I was at a dinner on the citadel when I was eight with dad and they had this really cool set of dining knives so I stole one." She unsheathed the blade and ran a thumb along the navy blue crusted edge, but not with enough pressure to slice the pad of the digit. "It kind of just became a thing I did at events that were important or made me happy, and sometimes if something really sad happened. I think knife hoarding might be genetic because I found a few in a box of Atalanta's things that Mom must have shoved away. Atalanta kept the blade she used for her oath when she agreed to stand with Mom and Dad for their Joining." She ran a thumb tenderly across the turquoise stone on the hilt, nearly a perfect match to her eyes that stared vacantly into space. "She didn't clean it either, it still had her and Mom's blood on it. I started copying her after that." She sheathed her aunt's blade and set it down carefully before she picked up the dining knife that Shepard had recognized. "This one's from my oath to stand with you and Garrus."
"And you were going to keep the butter knife, too?"
Atala flushed a little, the borders of her tattoo blurring as the carapace across her cheeks filled with blood and heat. "...I was originally going to take the spoon."
Shepard chuckled. "Well I think this is cool." She looked at Atala out of the corner of her eye. "Don't stop on my account. I won't tell."
Atala nodded slightly. Shepard's mind wandered, thinking of Atalanta. The female held such a strong presence in this home, like she was somehow still here. "Why is your AI named Bloodhound? It's a human name."
Atala nodded.
"Your Mom hates us."
"That's why she picked it. She had something of yours to hunt you down. She told me once she wanted humans to understand its purpose when she commanded it in their presence."
Shepard made a small noise of recognition. "I know she hates me. But your Mom's brilliant. I wish I'd come up with something that badass."
Atala's lip twitched. "It is pretty cool."
Shepard sighed. "I'm beat." She extended the butter knife to Atala, the hilt out so that it could be taken (not that she thought Atala knew the difference between the hilt and blade). Atala frowned. "Keep it." Shepard said. "You have a better purpose for it than the Alliance does."
Atala took the blade and Shepard rose and exited the room, leaving the turian alone with her gleaming trove of memories.
