I see you.

The voice echoed in the void. Shepard could feel protective talons in her mind, clawing at the presence that was pressing on it.

I see you. You cannot hide.

/./././././././././././././././

The skies were clear but thunder shook the mountains and smoke rose from the city below. The needle that Dr. Elsten had been using to add fluids to the medical centrifuge slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. She stared out the window, mouth open, at the smoke billowing in the wind and the ships that were beginning to appear in the air above. She heard a thud in the next room and a roaring scream.

The salarian doctor dashed through the doorway. Rafia was struggling to make her way across the room, lurching from one piece of furniture to another, using them to stabilize herself. The salarian called her name but she did not answer. Rafia managed to get to the patio doors and struggled to press them open, panting with effort.

"Stop this!" The salarian called, dashing towards Rafia's side. "Admiral Vakarian, you need to stop!"

"They're down there!" Rafia snapped, her voice full of panic and rage. She finally managed to push the door open and started across the wide patio.

"Help is on the way." The salarian shouted, managing to grab the turian female's arm.

"Let me go!" Rafia snarled, her eyes burning. "I have to go down there! They're down there! They're in that!" She yanked her arm from the salarian's grip, her body beginning to shake. Nothing was close enough to support her. She was surrounded by open patio and the stairs leading to the lawn.

"You cannot do anything for them Rafia!" the salarian barked, grabbing for the turian's middle, her small frame struggling. Rafia was easily twice her size. The admiral might be chronically ill but her body carried greater strength with the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"No!" Rafia snarled, trying to break the salarian's grip. "I have to go! They are down there!" She was breathing hard, her voice breaking with panic. "They're all down there!" She shoved at the salarian. Her legs finally gave way and Rafia tumbled down the steep stairs.

/./././././././././././././././

Venatura's hospital had never seen so much activity, even in the height of the hunting festivals. Turian medics were sprinting down the long halls and victims with burns and crushed limbs were being hurried into surgical wings and hospital beds.

A group of humans cut through the chaos, a woman with silver red hair at the head.

"Ma'am," said a marine at her side whose eyes were scanning the hall, "I must insist. We need to get you to a secure location."

"Not happening." The woman snapped.

"Councilor Shepard, there is no way for me to be sure that this hospital does not contain potential hostiles. We have been attacked. It's my job to ensure that you are secure. If you choose to resist I have no option other than to-"

Hannah Shepard grabbed her bodyguard by the collar of his uniform. She delivered a swift kick to a nerve cluster at the back of his knee and slammed the enormous man against the wall of the hallway, her face inches from his.

"We are staying. We are helping." She snarled at him. "That is all that is happening."

Without waiting for his reply she continued onwards, the rest of her guard following her. She reached a door flanked by two salarians holding very large guns.

"I'm seeing Linron now." Councilor Shepard barked at them. They exchanged a quick glance and one of them opened the door.

Hannah stepped into the room. Linron was leaning back in a hospital bed, another salarian administering something to the burns on the side of the Dalatrass' face. The Dalatrass' eyes flicked to the human Councilor and she frowned, wincing as the motion pulled at her burned flesh.

"I need Solus." Hannah said, her eyes blazing.

"What?"

"Moria. Her abdomen was crushed. And she's different." Hannah's heart was pounding. "Our doctor is still twenty minutes out and she's going to need more hands." She took a deep breath. "Give me Solus."

The Dalatrass' eyes were locked on the human Councilor. "You lied to me."

Hannah didn't move. She did not deny it.

"I saw that light. That shield." The salarian's voice was a little ragged. "That is not the thing we treated on Sur'kesh."

"She's changing."

The Dalatrass laughed and it became a cough. "You swore she was not a threat."

Shepard's eyes were hard. "Give me Solus."

"No."

Rage twisted Shepard's face and she took a few steps towards the bed. A salarian in the corner came and stood in front of her, body loose and relaxed, eyes like steel. Councilor Shepard glared at the Dalatrass over the salarian's shoulder. "Fine. Forget me," her eyes bored into the Dalatrass', "you owe her." Her voice became a low growl. "Give the order."

The Dalatrass' eyes were full of contempt. "Fine."

/././././././././././././././././

I see you. I have found you.

Shepard opened her eyes. Every inch of her hurt. But there was nothing like the pressure in her head and the burning in her chest. Her head hurt so bad that she could not remember who she was. Where she was. She must flee. She must escape. She sat up. Voices echoed in her mind, her head felt like something was tearing into it. She had to get up. She had to find it. It had to be found before it was too late. Thoughts that were not her own were spinning though her head. It would get her, take her, break her. She dragged herself to the edge of the bed. One of her arms screamed in pain if she tried to use it. She fell to the floor as she found that one of her feet was in equal pain.

"We need you, Shepard…" She heard Anderson's voice say. She felt an unexplainable need to leave the room, to go to the thing that burned bright in her mind on the other side of the hall. She could feel talons and pressure warring in her head. She wanted it to stop. She would do anything to make it stop. Using the bed, she dragged herself to her feet and hobbled with gasps of pain to the door of the room. Outside there were bright lights, tiled floors, and displays on the wall that showed an ever moving line that spiked repeatedly. It was all meaningless - all that mattered was getting through that door. Getting to the bright light on the other side. She ordered her body forward.

She could hear a screeching cry in her mind. It would get her, take her, break her. She was through the door. A dark grey figure lay in the bed before her. Yes. Nearly there. So close. Just… the blinding pain filled her head again, "Run, Shepard!" she heard Anderson cry. But her hand lifted of its own accord and met the cool skin of the creature before her with a fan of slim horns on either side of its face. Green light erupted along Shepard's body.

And there was darkness.

/././././././././././././

The claws of the Narasta in the cold winds tore at Rafia's face. Her eyes watered. Her skin burned with the cold. The scarf and long tail of her robe whipped around her as winter howled its fury. She refused to shiver. She willed the cold to seep into her. To kill the fire that burned within, but it would not. She stared at the stars, at the forges of her people gleaming in the hateful cold. She could still smell Ata, or smell part of Ata, that scent of honeysuckle was there but there was also… something else. Something sick and rotting. Rafia's hands bore the dark blue gloves of her sister's death. Of the slaughter that Rafia had committed.

When the sun rose that day, the ranks of clan Vakarian had been strong: her mother and father, Admiral and General; Atalanta, a Kabalim who had already brought her people huge victories at her young age. And then there was her. The lieutenant. Diligent. Honorable. A particularly good shot but nothing else special. The one who played it safe. The good turian who knew the place she would take, knew that she would become leader of their clan one day. One day… not today. It was not meant to be today. She was unremarkable, she was unfinished, she was not ready.

For years all she had done was watch, listen, and… enjoy the time she had before the charge fell to her. She had met Castis, a male with a streak of mischief nearly as deep as Ata's, hidden beneath his somber eyes and his reverence for his honor. They had Joined. They had celebrated. They had Garrus and Solana. She could see the strength they carried in their proud little faces. She could see the tenderness in her son as he held his infant sister's hand and she knew she had done her duty; knew she had found one who could care for their clan when she one day faded and her ashes rode the rivers, joining the ranks of her ancestors.

Her deep eyes burned as she beheld the cold fire of the stars. "I DID EVERYTHING!" She roared into the night, the scent of the sister she had slain filling her head as her breathing became hard. "I DID EVERYTHING!" Her voice echoed off the Aroloupes, their cold faces tossing her words back at her feet. Her hands shook. She wanted to tear her throat from her neck. Let it fall steaming in the snow so that breath could not find her lungs, so that her heart pumped the blood from her body as it had from Ata's. "What did I do?" She shrieked, throat tearing. "Tell me what I did to deserve this?"

But the spirits were silent, leaving the Narasta free to howl. The Narasta. The forges in the skies. She was not capable of understanding the world around her without thinking of the stories that Atalanta had loved so much. Was that why she was being punished? Because she had done her duty on Palaven but had disregarded the old stories? Gone through the motions of honoring the spirits but been too caught up in her new family? In the things that were bright and immediate and easy? Had her parents, her sister, been taken in a single day to punish her for that?

"It should have been me!" She raged at them. "They did nothing. I am the one you want, I am the one that failed, so come and take me!"

The wind's talons ripped the scarf from her neck, but she did not care. She pulled the winter robe from her body and allowed it to be snatched by the wind and carried in the dark. She walked to the edge of the cliff, her body now shaking, her armor's undersuit not thick enough to keep out the furious cold. "Take me!" She screamed. The tears from her eyes turning to ice on her cheeks in the extreme cold. The deep slashes Atalanta had left across her face singing as the freezing salt tore at the clots. "Take me from my mate and son and daughter. Take me but leave them the family that have not failed." Atalanta's dried blood was becoming stiff on her hands in the freezing wind. "What is wrong with you? Why would you leave me." She fell to her knees, tearing at her horns with hands that smelled of her sister's death. "It should have been me." She whispered. "It should've been me." Her words, like her family, merely vanished into the void.

/./././././././././././././

Her mother's cousin came to stand by her at the water's edge. Rafia's mind clung to the image of the waters dancing with the silver ashes of her family, of the way it seemed to take longer for Atalanta's to settle in the pool, dancing in the turbulence of the falls, echoing her restless spirit. The water was still and clear now. It had been for some time. It felt wrong. If this was where Atalanta was they could not be still. The little spitfire was never still. If they were still then she was not here. But if she was not here… where? Her blood had smelled different, her ashes carried a darker cast. Had those monsters broken that unshakable spirit as well as her body and mind? Was that why she was not with her? Why Rafia did not feel Atalanta as she felt their parents?

She would not leave until she understood. Until she felt her sister here or she could think where to go to look for her.

"Mom!" A voice that used to mean something called. But Rafia did not move. She did not answer. She did not look, lest she miss some sign of Atalanta. Her mother's cousin, Flavia, caught Garrus before he took his mother's still bloodstained hands. The hands she refused to wash to her clan's disapproval. Let them disapprove. Let them all disapprove. It did not matter now.

Flavia beamed at the small male and spoke comforting words of his mother's love, but said she was tired and needed time to rest. That he must be strong and protect her rest. That his important mission was to help his father with his little Solana.

"Ask Mommy when I can hear a story from Autie Ata" the little boy said, laying his head upon Flavia's shoulder and gazing at his mother.

The weathered faced turian woman smiled sadly, patting his back. "Auntie Atalanta has gone to guard our family and will be away for a very long time. But she loves you very dearly and has a secret mission for you."

"She does?" Garrus' eyes shone with excitement.

"Yes, you must practice stories to tell Solana when she gets older. You can practice them now because she is a baby; she will not remember if you make mistakes, but you must learn to tell them well so that when she's older she will know who she is and understand that she is part of the great Vakarian clan." Flavia gazed into the little boy's eyes. "Can you do that for Atalanta, Garrus?"

The bright blue eyes were uncertain for a moment but then Garrus nodded somberly.

"Good." Flavia said. "Now go find your father and sister and have your first practice. If you have trouble I can come help." Garrus nodded, gave a lingering look to his mother who had not stirred and then walked back into the shadow where the rest of the clan were slowly making their way back up into the house.

Rafia was dimly aware of Flavia turning to her, but her eyes remained locked on the waters. Perhaps Atalanta's spirit had gone wherever the water in the pool flowed. Rafia could get a crew to do excavations in the chamber and follow the water until she found-

"You need to come upstairs, child." Flavia said softly.

"My place is here." Rafia said flatly.

"Your place is with your family."

"My family is here."

Rafia could feel Flavia's piercing grey eyes on her. "We remember our family here, Rafia, but they do not stay here. They are gone where you cannot follow and there is nothing for you in those waters."

"I am not leaving her."

Flavia snorted. "I know you're not. You are carrying her on you and her scent has been here with us all week. She will still be with you if you come upstairs. But you must clean your hands."

"No."

"Rafia-"

"I will not forget what I did."

"Of course you won't. But you do not need to wear her blood to remember." She sighed. "Besides, Atalanta would be furious with you for doing this." Rafia's heart beat fast with the words. "She is proud. She would not want you reminding everyone that you managed to draw her blood. She resented how good you were in the ring already."

Rafia's chest ached and she wrapped her hands around herself, their dark blue disappearing into the folds of her robes.

"I know this week has been horrible." Flavia said softly. "The grief, taking your parents and Atalanta's things from their offices in Prometra… and you still have Garrus and Solana here. I cannot imagine how tired you are, child, but you have a job to do."

"I am in mourning."

Flavia shook her head. "We are at war and our clan is without a leader, we do not have time for grief."

"When our clan leader has orders for me I will follow them. Until then, I mourn my dead."

"And when will you give orders to yourself?"

The nonsensical question broke through the pain. "What?'

Flavia's grey eyes met her own. "You are to lead our clan, Rafia. It passes from your mother to you."

"What? No." Rafia said in alarm. "It's not me. I am not of high enough rank. It has to go to someone else."

There was fatigue in Flavia's eyes. "You have been a General for five days, child."

Rafia's heart was pounding. "I am only General because everyone's dead."

"That doesn't matter. You have the rank to lead us and so you must."

"No." Rafia said, breathing fast now. "I can't, I can't, I'm not ready. It should be you or Tyfus or Romula!"

"None of them outrank General." Flavia said quietly. "And I left combat to serve our people here before I even became a Lieutenant."

"I cannot lead the clan."

"You must lead the clan:"

"No. That's not going to happen." She shouted. "I failed to protect my parents, I killed my sister. I have single handedly brought about the end of more Vakarains than anyone has since the Unification War." She was shaking. "Maybe in years when I have fixed - when I'm not - when I'm someone they can trust."

"You served to the best of your ability as all Vakarians do." Flavia said firmly. "And now you must continue to do so to honor those you lost."

"I do not deserve to be a Vakarian. I do not deserve to bear our marks after what I have done!" Rafia spat.

Flavia's eyes had gone cold. "You are arrogant to think that this is about you." She shook her head, her voice ringing off the stones. "It is not about you. It is about the future of our clan and the safety of our people. You have a duty to use your strength and experience to lead us whether you are a Vakarian or not. And you dishonor those you seek to mourn if you fail to take your place."

Flavia began walking back along the hallway in silence. Her footsteps like a drumbeat against the song of the falls. She paused and called back to Rafia, "Do not fail little Ata a second time."

Rafia stood staring into the empty waters for a long while. Slowly, she knelt at the pool's edge and sank her arms beneath the surface, using her talons to claw away the dried blood and opening gashes in her carapace as well. Their blood mingled, black and blue billowing in the gentle tides of the pool as Rafia bound herself in a final oath to Atalanta.

/././././././././././././././././

Rafia stared in the mirror at the marks painted across her unworthy cheeks and jaw. When her eye focused on the line's of paint and the coloration of her carapace, when she didn't focus on her eyes or her distinctive fans of horns, she saw Atalanta's face, not her own. The face of the daughter who deserved these marks, not the failure who had somehow survived when those so much more deserving had died.

The days since Atalanta's death had been torture. Every time she passed a mirror or a reflective window or a clean blade she saw her sister staring back at her. The spirits were not through with Rafia's punishment because the vision kept changing. Sometimes Atalanta stood there watching Rafia with fading eyes, her neck reduced to a jagged hole, her bright blue blood flowing down her sternum. Sometimes her eyes were lit with that wild savagery they'd held in the lab, plates of metal and wires protruding from her proud head, her body painted with the marks of Cerberus' alterations, her left arm replaced entirely with a monstrosity of circuitry and hydraulics.

Rafia's knuckles were white on the knife handle. She shook the visions from her mind and raised the blade, the turquoise along the hilt gleaming in the bathroom light. She set the blade against her carapace at the edge of the tattoo and began dragging it across her face. Working through one side of her jawline as she saw her father's face. Heard his voice calling to her, sharing his knowledge of the Council and other races. She moved the blade to the other side of her jaw, felt her mother's hands correct the way she held her rifle, shift her fighting stance so she was more balanced, heard her speak with pride of the fans of Rafia's horns, so like her grandmothers, one of the greatest leaders of their family. An auspicious sign of the leader Rafia was to become.

It was brutal work. Atalanta had always kept the blade razor sharp, but turian faceplates were not designed to yield. Rafia relished the agony of it scraping, breaking though, her fresh blood the same blue as the ink she did not deserve, spilling down her face. Watch she thought to the spirits, is this what you wanted? She was breathing heavily, her hands shaking. Come and take it. Take the last of my family. Leave me with nothing if that is what I deserve. She raised the blade to the right side again, to the line that swept across her cheekbones and nose but did not have the strength to dig it in again.

She moved the blade to the left side. Placing the edge in one of the deep scrapes her sister's talons had left. Here she could cut through her face with greater ease. She could pry her carapace from the fleshier tissue beneath, shard by shard, and did not have to break through the plate on her own. It was as if Atalanta had known she did not deserve these marks and made the first stroke to strip her worthless sister of them. But it made the agonizing work quick. Within a few minutes only a few inches of tattoo were left upon the failure's face.

There was frantic knocking at the door.

"Rafia!" Castus shouted from the other side. "Rafia! Are you ok? Shit - Rafia there is blood seeping under the door. Let me in." The door shook. "Rafia, let me in now!"

Rafia merely dug the blade beneath the last of the ink upon her face and tore it away with a snarl.

There was a bang and the sound of snapping wood and the door blew open, kicked in by a frantic Castis. His eyes fell on her as she let the bloody knife slip from her hand and clatter into the blue splattered basin and his mouth fell open in horror.

/././././././././././././

"Moria!" The world spun as Shepard felt herself pulled back. She had been standing but she could no longer and she began to collapse only to be caught by strong arms. Her body was moved. A face came into her sight. A face with the eyes of that child that had asked for stories from the dead. His mouth moved, the last of the green light on her body died and the world went dark once again.

/././././././././././././././

The Councillor and the Primarch stood staring in the window of the turian hospital room. The Councillor's pale green eyes were fixed on the heart monitor. At its steady beat. They did not shift. They barely blinked.

"We are deeply grateful for your assistance after the attack." Victus said softly.

"People were in danger." Hannah Shepard murmured. "It was my job."

"You're on the Council now."

"It will always be my job."

The Primarch's lip twitched. "The two of you are similar." The steady beeping of the heart monitor made his thoughts drift. "Do you miss just being a soldier?" Victus asked.

"More than anything." Councilor Shepard chuckled. She released a heavy sigh. "I don't like sending my people somewhere they won't come back from. Not if I'm not leading them there myself." They were quiet for a moment, listening to the even rhythm of the heart monitor. "I am sorry about your son."

"So am I." Victus murmured. His eyes fixed on the tangle of red hair on the pillow. "What was it like?" He asked. "To get her back… after two years?"

The human Councilor was silent and a tear ran down her cheek. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me." She said softly. "And I don't sleep anymore…"

/././././././././././././././././.

"She'd be dead if she were human." Chakwas said. There was exhaustion in the doctor's voice and Garrus could see deep shadows beneath the human woman's eyes. Garrus quickly went back to watching the steady rise and fall of Shepard's breath. He had considered asking if he could keep her in stasis. That way she couldn't dream. Couldn't have a nightmare. Couldn't tear at her face or break her collarbone or stand under a goddamn rock as it fell and push other people out of the way instead of getting the hell to safety on her own. Chakwas looked tired enough after the fifteen hour surgery that he figured she actually might say yes.

The turian medics had been useless. Her human frame and inhuman insides were beyond any of their training and Dr. Chakwas had not yet arrived. Councilor Shepard, so similar and yet so different to the broken women on the bed before him, had disappeared from the room at the turian medic's first words of uncertainty. She had returned a few minutes later with Dr. Solus in tow and thrown the turian doctor from the room, saying that they would give the salarian whatever the hell he needed or they would answer to the full force of the Alliance military. Garrus had added that they wouldn't be able to answer to the Alliance because they would already be dead, as would their colleagues, until someone finally followed the salarian's orders. The human Councilor had raised her eyebrows appreciatively at that.

Needing to do something, anything, and unable to leave her side, Garrus had used his talons to strip Shepard's uniform from her, under the salarian's instructions. He had conveyed Chakwas' recommendations regarding keeping Shepard in stasis and Dr. Solus, Kevo Solus, Garrus finally learned, said it was an excellent strategy and would not stop him from beginning to work. He was scanning Shepard's abdomen as they shifted her to a gurney so she could be rushed into the surgical suite when his eyes widened. "Oh! It's her."

"What?" Garrus snapped.

"She is the human with the biosynthetic system. I operated on her in Sur'kesh. I recognize the unique structures. Never seen anything like them before; they're fascinating." His eyes flicked from the scan to Shepard's face as he began sprinting down the hall beside the gurney. "Totally didn't realize it was her since humans all look similar." Garrus snarled at him. "It's ok!" He insisted. "I can help."

It was agony. Garrus decided that he much preferred how things had gone on Sur'kesh. He'd woken up in a hospital bed, his body severely broken, and Moria still in surgery. He'd thrown himself out of bed and tried to find her but the pain of his injuries had been so bad that he'd passed out again after ten minutes and awoke when she was finally out of surgery. Liara had even had the sense to have the two of them put in the same recovery room. She said she hadn't wanted to have to deal with Shepard being pissed that Garrus had died hunting for her all over the hospital. That had definitely been much better.

He could smell Moria's blood as it had dripped over much of his uniform, but he could not smell her. The surgical suite was tightly sealed and though he could see Kevo on the other side of the glass as well as several robotic assistants moving across the bed, he couldn't smell her, couldn't smell fear or pain or anything. It made him crazy.

Grunt wasn't coping well either. The massive but young krogan had burst into the hallway, grabbing a turian doctor by the front of their medical uniform and bellowing "WHERE'S SHEPARD?" in the struggling turian's face. Garrus had called down to Grunt who dropped the turian and pounded over to him. He'd looked through the window, snorted in frustration and then pressed his enormous armored forehead against the glass, his eyes fixed on Moria.

"What are you doing?" Garrus asked, the absurdity of the krogan's behavior actually cutting though his barely suppressed panic and piquing his interest.

Grunt's eyes did not move and he kept his head pressed to the glass as he growled. "Struggling. Bloodrage. Nothing to kill." He huffed. "Wrex said to be useful. Guard Shepard." He squinted through the glass. "Can I kill the salarian?"

"No." Garrus said dryly. "We need the salarian."

"Fine." Grunt grumbled.

Chakwas and the Normandy arrived and Garrus went to get the doctor and clear a path to get her to the surgical suite containing Shepard. He was only able to tear himself away because he knew Shepard had a better chance with Chakwas helping and that after him, there was no one in the galaxy more ready to tear apart anything that threatened Shepard than Grunt.

He got Chakwas into the room with Kevo fast and continued keeping vigil with Grunt. He was going to kill her. She could protect herself. She was perfectly capable of protecting herself. His problem was that she was stupid and kept doing everything other than protecting herself. She outmatched him in sparring, she was a biotic and… no, he would never admit she was a better shot than he was… but he could probably kill her if he needed to because she would be so busy still trying to protect him that she wouldn't do a damn thing to save her own life.

Grunt growled and thudded his head against the window in frustration. A small crack in the glass appeared. His eyes flicked to the crack. "Oops." He shifted a few feet and pressed his head to the wall immediately next to the window, still staring through the glass out of the corner of his eyes. "I don't like this."

Garrus kept turning his comm on every few minutes, connecting to the Normandy where the roar of static could still be heard. He didn't really know what it meant, but if it was there… then she couldn't be gone. Not yet. Not completely.

At one point Garrus became aware of Victus standing at his side, watching as the salarian and human doctors worked. There was a bandage across the side of the Primarch's face and one arm was in a robotic brace. Wrex joined them at one point. "She's had worse." He said in a low voice. "The void can't hold that one." He watched in silence for a few minutes. "Awful lot of biotics on the 'Krogan Relations and Response Corps,'" he rumbled, "especially when they're not exactly common among turians." He did not bother to look at Victus.

"They were in place long before I was Primarch." Victus sighed.

"But you left a damn Cabal keeping an eye on us while we were rebuilding."

"It actually used to be a convenient and quiet cover position."

"While we were neutered by the genophage and you had a bomb in case things got out of hand?" Wrex growled.

"Yes." Victus said wearily.

"Maybe Shepard saved you just so I'd have the opportunity to kill you myself." His eyes flicked from the surgical suite to Victus and back again. "After today, you and your stupid people had better listen to her, or the krogan will come and make you listen."

Chakwas and Kevo replaced just about everything. Most of the organs in her abdomen had been replaced with synthetics by Cerberus after she had been spaced, but these were now crushe beyond repair. Removing her shattered pelvis had been the biggest issue. There had been no chance of holding it together with synthetic supports the way they could for the tops of her femurs, foot and arm. Kevos had spent hours carefully separating the hundreds of strands that ran through her body from the synthetic and organic tissues and then used Chakwas' fortunately recent scans of Shepard to replace them and integrate them into the new synthetic implants. Chakwas had cleared away dead or destroyed organic tissues, supplementing it with more synthetics. Green light had sparked along the strands of their own accord and the two doctors hoped it was a good sign.

They'd been moving her to a recovery suite when Garrus spotted Atala in the hallway staring in the window of one of the rooms. The siblings' eyes met and she read the question in them. "It's Mom." She said softly. Garrus was at her side in an instant, staring in the window. His mother was lying in the hospital bed. Eyes closed. A bandage across one of her tattooless cheeks. His father was sitting at her bedside, his head resting on one arm, a hand around Rafia's, his eyes locked on her sleeping face.

"What the hell happened?" Garrus breathed. The salarian was sitting in the corner of the room looking exhausted, working at something on her omnitool.

"She saw the smoke." Atala said softly. "And tried to come down the mountain." Atala's face was covered in dust and scratches. The uniform of her cover position was gone and she stood in her sleek Kabalim armor. She looked like shit. He probably looked the same. She'd made sure they got Shepard to the hospital, and then jumped into her ship which she'd summoned via the autopilot settings and gone back to the still-crumbling Vena Center.

Garrus felt like he was being torn in half. His mother was here, but he couldn't leave Shepard. He turned to Chakwas and Grunt and the assistants who had been guiding Shepard's hover gurney and pointed to the room directly across the hall from his mother's room. "There." He growled. As long as Shepard was unconscious he could keep her safe. He could keep them both safe.

They'd settled Shepard in the room. He kept checking in with the Normandy every few minutes, and finally, two hours after she got out of surgery, the static died. Brain function returned to her monitors. Her pulse remained steady, as did her blood pressure, things Garrus made Chakwas explain to him in detail. "There's no reason she shouldn't wake up now." Chakwas said as Garrus brushed a hair back from Moria's forehead. "It just might take some time."

And so he waited. Grunt had refused to leave her side until Wrex loomed in the door and gave him orders to assist with searching for survivors in the rubble. Grunt had begrudgingly only left when Garrus assured he would be there the whole time.

She was shifting in her sleep. Dreaming. Garrus felt sick, her flicking eyelids making him think of the dream he had the night before. He should have known. He should have been ready. But in the weeks since the Crucible fired the only dangers had been the visions lurking in her head and the fear they sparked in her. He'd thought they were safe.

There had been other simultaneous attacks. He'd heard Roki reporting to Atala that Sydney on Earth, Merkai on Thessia, Kerval on Sur'kesh, and Omega had all been bombed. The explosives had been the same and the explosions had taken place within minutes of each other. The cities on the other planets had been the alternate locations for the summit. He was so tired. His head ached like something was pressing on it. The rise and fall of Moria's chest was hypnotic. The sound of her steady breath was like a lullaby.

The bed was empty when he woke up. Panic gripped his heart. He could still smell her. Not just on the sheets but nearby. She smelled like she was in pain, adding sharpness to the citrus and gunpowder. He was on his feet in an instant, dimly starting to hear instruments beeping out of control somewhere over the pounding of his heart. He stepped into the hall, looking around, and saw a mane of red hair through the window of his mother's room. He threw the door open and found her standing at his mother's side, her hand upon Rafia's arm, strands of green light extending from her fingers and wound in the turian's carapace. Shepard's body was covered in green light, her eyes shining, her head thrown back, mouth open and face contorted in a silent scream.

He heard pounding footsteps behind him and caught the jasmine-like scent of Atala. He yelled Moria's name and the lights flashed and died and she started to fall. He caught her in his arms, turning her face to him, and she went limp. Atala was at her mother's side. Checking vitals on a specialized display on her omnitool. Cradling Moria in one arm, Garrus carefully pulled the blankets back from his mother's arm, examining it carefully. There was a small patch of branching marks on her forearm where Moria had been connected to her. It did not seem like the connection had lasted as long or gone as deep as it had with Garrus. There was no blood coming from the marks and they were a hair deep. He looked to Atala, his heart in his throat. "Is she ok?"

"Yes." Atala said. Her eyes bored into Garrus', a primal fury in her turquoise gaze. "What the hell was that? Is that what happened to your carapace?" Garrus couldn't do anything but nod. "What did she do?" Atala asked, an edge to her voice.

"I don't know." He said, carefully running a finger across Moria's face. "When it happened to me I just felt pain in my chest and I woke up and found her strands digging into me. They… they were harder to deal with. These… these just vanished." He looked beseechingly at Atala. "It's like the nightmares: she can't control them. We're working on it." His voice trembled, "she-she doesn't mean it."

Atala's jaw was tight. She looked at the monitor again. "We'll tell Mom and Dad those marks were from falling down the stairs." Her eyes drifted to her mother's face. "Even I wouldn't be able to protect either of you if they found out what happened." She glanced towards the door and the corners of the room, to the cameras that monitored the hospital. "No one has to know what happened. I can use Bloodhound and alter…everything." She glanced at a monitor by the bed. "Shouldn't be too hard. I've done this kind of thing before." She looked back to Garrus, nodding at Shepard. "Get her in bed now."

He carried Moria back into her room and laid her in the bed. Her abdomen hadn't reopened, thank the spirits, although her foot looked a little redder than usual. He didn't understand how or why she had gotten out of bed or what had possessed her to go into his mother's room. She'd never walked in her sleep before. But things were different every time. They were always changing right when he felt like he was finally getting a handle on them.

Through the window he saw Zyan appear and heard Atala's say something about watching Rafia and threats of feeding their cousin to a pack of varrens one little piece at a time while he still drew breath. Roki also appeared in the hallway and Atala barked more orders at her Second. Garrus felt stupid by comparison. She hadn't let the attack shake her. Hadn't stopped working for one moment. Moria would kill him if he didn't check in on the Normandy. He made a call through his comms. Traynor had the Normandy assisting with rescue, security, and moving the rubble. Apparently not much was left of the Vena Center. Garrus told Traynor that he believed Moria would wish her to continue with that operation.

"Is she ok?" The young woman asked, sounding worried.

"She will be. I… I know I'm not Alliance, but I really do recommend-"

"General Vakarian." Traynor interrupted. "We all know who she would trust with her crew. We are prepared for your orders, sir."

Garrus swallowed, his mandibles trembling, blinking away the moisture gathering at the corner of his eyes, grateful for the privacy of the hospital room.

"Save as many as you can." He said, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. "Venatura's small. Look for what needs to be done that they do not have the resources or ability to accomplish and take care of that."

"Aye aye, sir. Keep our Commander safe." Traynor said and ended the connection.

He watched Moria breathe for a while. Her brow was furrowed, caught in another nightmare. "It's ok, Moria." He whispered to her, stroking the lines of her face that should carry his tattoos. "Everyone's ok. You just gotta come back now."

He caught Atala's scent as the door opened and she slipped inside. She sat wearily on a chair on the other side of Shepard, her arms resting on her knees, her eyes on Moria's face.

"It's done." She said quietly. "Everything's altered and there won't be a trace." She rubbed some soot off her face. "Shepard never left her room."

"How do you know how to do that?"

Atala's eyes flicked to him. "'Kabalim' comes with a lengthy job description. Before the war, individuals who posed a threat to Palaven's safety would end up in a hospital and expire due to complications." Her eyes were full of pain but her lip twitched. "Hecate is a breathtaking chemist and extraordinary at making roof drops. And we don't leave evidence behind."

"How is she?" Garrus asked.

"Moria's in a lot better shape." Atala said, grief and exhaustion in every line of her face.

"Did you find Trathia?"

"No. And I just pulled Tavor from his search for her on Menae." She snorted. "She's not going to be there. We wouldn't get lucky twice. And with how Hecate looks… I think it might be better if she's gone." She rubbed her forehead wearily and Garrus noticed that one of her horns had a large chip in it.

"Your horn." He said softly. Turian horns were strong but they had been a largely vestigial structure for thousands of years. They had durable exteriors but damage to them was excruciating as it exposed nerves that were otherwise heavily protected.

Atala ran a hand over the horn and winced as she reached the damaged area.

"Has someone looked at that?" Garrus asked.

Atala gave him an exasperated look. "No. I didn't even realize it had happened." Garrus couldn't imagine how that kind of specific blinding pain could go unnoticed. She seemed to read his mind. "I'm an exhausted biotic." She said wearily. "Everything hurts, everywhere. It all just starts to blend together."

Moria was shifting in the bed, the crease across her forehead deepening. Her breathing was troubled. Garrus ran his fingers across her forehead, trying to soother her. She wasn't in any shape to be taken to the Normandy's engine room and Venatura likely needed its help anyway.

"Bloodhound." Atala said quietly. The VI appeared at her side, the horned canine creature sitting on its haunches patiently. "Linara." Atala commanded. The blue light of the VI shrunk and reconfigured itself in the form of a star shaped flower. Atala moved her hand as if she were picking up the flower and the VI moved with her hand. She placed it on the pillow next to Shepard's head and said. "File AV three fourty nine, timestamp two minutes fourty seconds."

A soft voice filled the air. "...Aia had long kept the cabathi's stinger locked deep within a chest. She had asked the mountains to roll over so that she could hide it beneath them and they so enjoyed the sweet meat of the cabathi that they were willing to do so, then rolled back in place and had dreams of dashing through trees and shadows from their wild meal. Aia was patient. She waited and waited until one night as she guarded her clan she saw a spark of starfire hurtle from the great forges and fall towards Palaven. She knew that only an ember would be strong enough to forge a weapon to hold the cabathi's sting. She woke her Second to guard their clan and she ran, racing the ember as it shot across the sky, pushing, pushing with all her might to reach where it would fall, for she knew that if she did not keep up, if she did not keep her eyes on that bright light it would vanish in the dark and she would not be able to use it…"

"You have these?" Garrus said, his voice hoarse. His eyes were lined with silver. He'd forgotten the sound of her voice. When Atala's biotics had emerged when she was nine and she had decided to no longer go by Solana, but to honor her namesake, she and her parents had gotten into a vicious argument. Garrus had never understood what the issue had been… but he also hadn't really known what had happened to his aunt at that point. His whole childhood his mother had told him and Atala story after story about how brave and wild Atalanta had been and played the stories that Atalanta had recorded to help keep her niece and nephew occupied and lessen her workload. But as soon as Atala wanted to use her name something had changed. Rafia stopped the stories, left the room if one of them began discussing Atalanta, and almost anything related to their aunt in their home had disappeared overnight.

Atala nodded at his question. "I could never find the omnitools we used to have them on as kids, but when I was assigned Bloodhound I found tons of her files. I think Mom must have transitioned all her data to Bloodhound once upon a time and forgotten about it." She glanced at Moria. Her breathing had slowed, and her brow was less creased. A smile twitched at the corner of Atala's mouth. She glanced at her brother. "I can send them to you, if you like. I know them all by heart now."

"No." Garrus said softly. "Keep them. They belong with you."

Atala frowned. "They're audio files. It's not like I won't have a copy of them."

But his chest clenched at the thought of his aunt's stories. He loved his family, but he'd been away a long time and he was eldest. Atalanta's voice brought him thoughts of duty and sacrifice that weighed on his heart. "It's ok, Atala."

Atala shrugged. "Suit yourself." She went back to staring at Moria. "She reminds me of Aia Colana." Atala said softly. Garrus frowned. Atala swallowed, her eyes shifting guiltily to her brother. "I listened to her report to her C.O. of what happened on the Crucible." Garrus was impressed that he could find room for rage in a storm of feelings drifting through him. His fingers clenched in the blankets of Moria's bed and the fabric made a tearing noise. Atala gave him an apologetic look. "It...it makes me think of her forging the collar. Moria wasn't going to listen to the Conduit, didn't accept the choices offered so she threw herself in the fire and forged her own path." Her eyes returned to Moria's now peaceful face. "And she emerged...something else…"

Garrus removed his hands from the ripped blanket and wrapped them around one of Moria's as though to assure himself she was still there.

"The attack is about her, isn't it?" Atala whispered, giving voice to a thought that had been haunting him for hours.

"I think so."

Atala frowned. "She saved the Primarch. But she shouldn't have...we..." She took a ragged breath. "We're going to need her, aren't we? And she doesn't realize that."

No. His heart whispered. She's fought her battles and I can just hide her away. Ask the mountains to roll aside so that we can find a place to hide. "I think so." He said heavily.

Atala's eyes searched his; read the weight his spirit bore, the fear at the corner of his mind and in the set of his jaw. She lifted her chin. "I can help." She said calmly. "I can guard her." She stared at him, waiting quietly. A Second, waiting to hear her leader speak.

"You guard our family."

She placed her still scabbed palm on one of Moria's hands. "She is our family."

/./././././././././././././././

"It's not too late to back out from all this." Shepard croaked.

"No."

"Seriously, think about it. It's like your last chance."

"It's not happening."

"Our sex might already be ruined. I don't know how well my hip will bend."

"Shut. Up."

"And you have to be honest, you love me for my flexibility."

"I should have left you under that hunk of rock."

"Mmmmm...I'd like to be under that hunk of rock…hard abs!" Moria cackled, coughed and said "ow."

"One; turians don't have visible abdominal muscles. Two; you just lost pain medication privileges."

"What?! You can't make that kind of call!"

"Ha ha, watch me."

"I'm like dead serious though. Like 'three times dead' serious."

"You did not die this time. I, however, might kill you if you do not shut up."

"But I'm like an old person now. Old people have their hips replaced."

"You are not old and it was your whole damn pelvis."

"See? Even worse! Even more necessary for thrusting."

"..."

"Although I guess you do most of the thrusting."

"What is in the afterlife that makes you so, so, so eager for me to send you there?"

"Um...a bar?"

"We have those here, too. So quit with the 'are you sure' bullshit."

"But tattoos are permanent."

"They have been easily removable for hundreds of years."

"Yeah, but I won't remove them. Everyone's gonna know that you are connected to my dumb, old, hip replaced ass."

"I happen to like that ass. And...we can't exactly make the tattoos happen yet. So you have nothing to worry about."

Shepard leaned back on the pillows, still scowling at him. "But really, what if I'm not as bendy?"

Garrus leaned over her and pressed a kiss into her hair. "We will manage." He growled. She'd woken that morning, her throat dry and scratched from smoke irritation and the breathing equipment used to keep her alive. Her voice was ragged. She shouldn't try to walk or get out of bed till the next day and she claimed to still have a headache, but she was there, alive, and blessedly her.

Cursedly her. Garrus corrected mentally. She had been trouble from the moment she woke up; asking if Victus was ok, what had happened in the wake of the attack, if they had information on who was responsible, and, most problematically, when they could hunt the guilty party down.

"You are hunting no one." he snarled at her. "You were an idiot and let a huge rock fall on you so you are healing and then going home."

"I am finding whoever did this."

"Moria, this was an attack on the Council, they have four militaries to deal with this kind of thing. You don't have to go deal with it."

"We had family in that room." She snapped. "There is no way I am letting them try something a second time." She coughed, "And more importantly, a bomb went off in that room and you were in it and I am going to make sure the person responsible dies a very slow and painful death at my hands."

"And just how are you going to do that when you can't stand on your feet for more than five minutes?"

"Atala hunted Reapers with a broken leg. I'll get tips from her."

"Moria." Garrus said, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion. "There are more important fights than going after these people."

She scowled at him. "I'm insulted."

He squinted at her. "Excuse me?"

"I almost died."

Oh, he was going to kill her. "Yes, I'm very aware, what with being the one who carried your very limp, very-nearly-corpse into this hospital."

"Exactly. A good future turian husband would be trying to avenge me."

"You're not dead."

"I could have been."

"And I'm your future mate, not husband. Unless you want to have a human marriage ceremony."

"Ich. Um, not particularly. They've never been my kind of thing. But that's not the point." She said, giving him a scathing look. "You should be wanting to hunt down the people who put a bomb in the room I was in."

He gritted his teeth. "I'm a little busy trying to make sure you don't finish their job for them. And between your sleep walking and general you-ness, you are making that job very difficult." He cocked his head. "Besides, who's to say that I didn't take a leaf out of your and Victus' book and outsource my 'avenging'?"

"What?"

He studied his talons casually. "Kasumi and Zaeed have been on the hunt for," he tapped his omnitool, glancing at the clock setting, "nineteen hours."

Moria crossed her arms. "You stole my crew?"

"Neither of them have worked for you for some time."

"I'm possessive."

"Then yes. I stole your crew." A hair had fallen across her forehead and he brushed it back, unable to help himself. "Deal with it."

She glanced at his retreating fingers. "I need a haircut."

"Ohhh." He said, softly leaning forward and nuzzling her ear, twining his fingers in her long hair. "It's obviously up to you, but I think it's perfect." He pulled back a few inches, studying her face. "Maybe a hair clip."

A shadow crossed her face. Garrus frowned. "What is it?"

"Do you remember the night you had to go for that swim?" She asked. The night he 'went for a swim' not the night that she broke her own collarbone, or the night that she had almost made the Normandy burn down the embassy.

"Yes." He said.

Her brow furrowed. "I think Echo was trying to tell me something."

"Ok."

"I think it was trying to tell me an Ascendent was being attacked...or warn me of something."

"Why are you thinking this now?"

Moria coughed slightly and Garrus picked up a glass of water and made her drink some with a scowl. Afterwards she continued. "Yesterday, when the Dalatrass was talking about the Ascendent they destroyed...my head was really hurting, like it did when I communicated with Echo, and…" She rubbed her head. "This sounds stupid, but I think I could feel the Asendent under atack." She put her hand down in frustration. "I sound crazy."

He placed his hand over hers. "You don't sound crazy." He cocked his head at her. "My drinking buddy is a prothean, we took down an AI that has been wiping out all life for like...all of time, your best friend is a krogan that was grown in a tank-

Shepard smiled guiltily. "He is my best friend."

Garrus squeezed her hand, his lip twitching, "I know, and you keep coming back from the dead and went head to head with your clone. There is a lot of weird out there; your getting warnings from a super old alien life form is unsurprising at this point, it's been happening since before you met me."

"So I'm not crazy?"

"Oh, you're crazy, but getting warnings from an Ascendent halfway across the galaxy is not crazy." He was quiet for a moment. "The timeline would match up. They likely would have been on their way from Sur'Kesh the night you had that nightmare." His eyes met hers. "Why do you think it was trying to warn you?"

"I don't know." Shepard whispered.

There was a knock at the door and Victus appeared in the doorway. "General," he said, nodding to Garrus and then looking to Moria. "I was overjoyed to hear you'd woken this morning." He said softly. "I think the krogan would have trampled half of Palaven if you died on our soil."

Moria smiled weakly. "They just like me because I can make a bigger mess than they can."

Victus' eyes were somber. "I'm in your debt again, Commander." He shook his head and gave her a wry smile. "You can't keep putting me in this position."

"I like Palaven." Moria said. "I plan on getting in lots of trouble here. Need to be able to call in favors so I can't get kicked off the planet."

Victus snorted. "I don't think that is going to be too much of an issue." He nodded at the chair by the bed. "May I sit?"

"So you get a chair but I didn't?" Moria said, her lip twitching.

Victus raised an eyebrow at her. "You seemed to enjoy your position plenty."

"I did. Of course you can have a seat." Victus nodded and lowered himself into the chair. "I owe you, Palaven owes you, and the surviving Primarchs and Sparatus owe you." he said gravely. "The wise political move would be to have a ceremony to praise your service or throw a gala and invite the Alliance. Use this as an opportunity to strengthen ties between our people." Moria's jaw clenched. She hated those kinds of things. Victus gave her a small smile. "But we feel the same way about politics, don't we?"

Moria nodded. "There are more important things."

Victus smiled. "I couldn't agree more. Not to mention, I asked you before if your new abilities were going to be a problem for me and Palaven, and you showed yesterday that we are very lucky the spirits passed them to one whom the turian people would consider a friend. I do not want to draw more attention to what happened yesterday. I do not think it's something you necessarily want either."

"Might not be a bad idea." Moria said.

"But Palaven cannot go without expressing its gratitude and I'm not letting this debt go unpaid." Moria frowned at his words. "I think I may be able to accomplish both by helping you to become more than a friend to the turian people." Vicuts said quietly. His eyes shifted to Garrus. "I understand that Admiral Rafia has refused to stand with you for your Joining?"

Garrus' jaw was tight and he looked wary. "That is correct." he said carefully.

"I am sorry to hear that. I worked extensively with her before she became ill and ceased working in public. She is a good soldier. She served our people honorably, but in a very different time."

"My sister will stand with us." Garrus said quietly.

Victus nodded. "That is brave of her, but without a clan leader to stand with you the Commander, and yourself are without protective authority and can't register a new clanmark."

"We'll join without clan rights if we must." Garrus said tensely.

"I have a suggestion there." Victus said quietly.

He looked to Shepard. "You and your mother both served the turian people nobly yesterday. And you have guarded the turians unasked for some time now. I wish to honor your service by granting the Shepards rights among the turian clans."

Garrus' eyes went wide and Shepard looked from Victus to Garrus in confusion.

"I don't understand."

"He's offering to recognize your family as a turian clan." Garrus said. "Which would mean the Joining could proceed regularly if your mother agreed to stand with us as she was an Admiral and therefore the leader of your clan."

Victus' eyes were locked on Shepard's. "I will see you have the aid you need for the Joining and in all things, whether Councilor Shepard stands with you or not." Victus pulled a slim blade from his uniform, made a slice across his palm and offered Shepard the blade.

"Take it." Garrus whispered to her.

Shepard took the blade, glanced dubiously at Victus' now bleeding hand, and sliced across her palm. Primarch clasped her hand gently in his own and said, "by the spirits I will stand with you both and guard him as my own. May his enemies be mine and my victories his. And may he ride with my ancestors when he lays down his palen blade." His eyes shifted between them both. "Clan Victus will stand with you both, and consider clan Shepard to be an extension of our own. Our lands, our resources, our strength are yours, and I will stand with you as Primarch and leader of clan Victus to see you Joined to whomever you wish." Shepard's eyes were wide and Victus gave her a wicked grin. "Might as well use some perks of this goddamn nightmare of a job. "Shepard let out a short laugh and shook her head in disbelief. "I can assist you with preparations whenever you are ready-"

"We're ready." Garrus said quickly, his voice low.

"What?" Shepard said, completely taken aback.

"The preparations are fairly lengthy." Victus said gently, seeming to sense her slight panic.

Garrus' eyes found Shepard's. "Moria," he said gently. "I'm done waiting. I want this…" He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "I'm still furious with you for yesterday."

"What?" she protested, "I saved people."

"I know you did - and you nearly got yourself killed in the process."

"Garrus," Shepard said, shaking her head. "It's my job. You can't ask me to not do it."

"I know." He said gently. "And I never will. It kills me, and horrifies me and haunts my dreams, but I cannot ask you to stop." He wrapped her hand in his again. "So I am going to be with you and protect you and aid you as best I can every moment of our lives." His eyes drifted across her bare cheekbones and jaw. "I want the world to see that I bear the same ink as Commander Moria Shepard, and that I will follow her into every battle and to the ends of the world." He squeezed her hand. "I'm done waiting."

"Ok." She whispered.

Victus smiled. "I am happy for you both. Shepard. We will be damn lucky to have you as one of ours." He rose, saying, "I will speak with Kabalim Vakarian about beginning preparations." He began to leave the room, pausing in the doorway to call back. "And Shepard?"

"Yes?"

Victus smiled. "You will have to get some clan tattoos to pass to your mate."