"I did pull some strings—"
Ryder's steps faltered, her backpack in her hand. She was all ready to rush into her mother's room to announce her presence.
"-supposed to be safe—" the voice went on.
Her breathing came hard and fast. She had all but ran her way home after realising her massive blunder.
"You never care for—" another voice replied. "And now she is—"
Ryder gulped. That voice was unmistakable. It was her mother's. But it was hard and harsh, sandpaper scrapping across skin. She'd never speak to Scott or herself this way, that would mean her father was home. Ryder's heart thudded hard against her chest. Is he mad?
"I do, I do. I know—" her father went on, his voices muffled through the layers of plastic and steel. "-that I don't care, but—"
Are they talking about me?
"Do you? I can't tell and I think neither can—" her mother's voice turning sharp and angry.
A thrill ran down her spine. She eavesdropping just by standing here but her curiosity was strong.
"-is fine but you are not!" her father shouted, his voice laced with desperation and despair. "My work will save you!"
Ryder's jaw tightened. She had never ever heard so much emotions from her father before. Alec Ryder had always been a man of control. He was a master of his emotions, he was never one to show when a hint of how he felt, beyond anger, disappointment and irritability. Alec Ryder wasn't human, not truly. He was more machine than man.
But in that instant, she realised he wasn't angry, he was bitting his tongue so that his emotions didn't come spilling out. Everything he felt, whatever he truly thought was all locked away in his head. He wasn't the perfectly trained Alliance soldier that he made himself out to be.
Maybe, Pa doesn't really hate me. Maybe…
She couldn't let this go on. These words weren't meant for her ears. She took a deep breath and called out as she stepped into the corridor that led to the rooms, "Ma, Pa!"
Silence, heavy and still, hung in the air before a split second later her mother shouted, "Sara!"
Despite how much AEND had ravaged Ellen Ryder's body, her voice remained strong. Her stumbling feet covered the distance between the room and Ryder as quickly as they could. She dropped the backpack she was carrying and caught her mother before she fell.
"Sara, you are alive," her mother sobbed as her arms tightened around Ryder, hands tugging at Ryder's stiff uniform, clawing at her back desperate and frantic. "You are alive!"
Guilt flared in Ryder's chest as she buried her face into the crook of her mother's neck. "I'm sorry. I'm fine now. I'm ok."
Her mother pushed away and cupped Ryder's face in her hands. Fingers pressing against her cheeks as if to make sure Ryder was real and not a ghost here to haunt her.
"You really are here. I thought the batarians have killed my daughter!"
Ryder flinched, but she pulled her mother back into a hug. The batarian incident was more than a year ago. It was what prompted her promotion to corporal. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Ma is here. She is alive. What does it happen if she remembered the wrong thing?
When she opened her eyes again, she found her father looking at her. His grey eyes icy and cool, but there was something strange in them. It was something she had never seen before.
It was relief.
He stepped forward and squatted to bring himself down to their level. His hand reached out and landed on her shoulder. Ryder flinched. She held her breath, her eyes darting between her father's hand and his face. Something wordless, something old, something she had yearned for flared in her chest. Her jaw tightened, she knew better than to hope. But her heart betrayed her. Her lower lip quivered before she could bite down with her teeth. He looked away, breaking their eye contact but his hand squeezed her shoulder, once.
The void his hand left broke a dam within her chest. The floodgates opened as she buried her face into her mother's chest. She cried. It wasn't any one thing, it was everything. The deaths, the lives, the hurt, the pain, the confusion. It all poured forth in a wordless grief.
"How could you forget?" Scott demanded. "You fucking forgot that you've sent me your fucking goodbye note?"
Ryder sighed. She knew this was coming and she didn't blame Scott. He had quite a scare after all.
It was the first thing she did after gathering her mother up and putting her to bed. The reunion was emotionally draining for both of them. Her father was nowhere to be seen after. She sent a message to Scott while sitting on her childhood bed, telling him to call whenever he had time so that he could scold her.
"I mean, I fucking lost ten years of my life thanks to you!" he yelled.
Ryder watched as he paced back and forth from her dinky little terminal she used to use for school work. It was late by the time Scott called, near midnight Citadel time. As eventful the day was, she was too tired to sleep as oxymoronic as it sounded. The shoulder that her father had touched tingled even hours later. It was the most contact they had in years. The last time was when he had was training her in hand to hand combat. She was only a child then.
"Are you even listening?" Scott demanded.
She blinked. "Sorry, I was just… It's just a long day."
He grumbled under his breath. "All right, I'll forgive you this one time. Just don't do this to me again."
She grinned. "I promise."
"Want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice hush.
Scott didn't have the clearance to receive the report she had filed but something must have travelled down the rumour mill. A base completely lost to Cerberus wasn't a minor detail after all. "How much do you know?" she asked.
"Nothing beyond the bare details."
"Pa didn't inform you when he knew?" she asked.
Scott shook his head. "He might not have the clearance to share. I don't know."
Ryder took a deep breath and said, "Grab a chair."
In the end, she poured it all out in a way she didn't with the grief counsellor. The Alliance grief counselling was a joke, conducted as a group for a bunch of soldiers who had more pride than brains, it was never going to really work. Maybe it was because she was just a lowly corporal, maybe things were done differently for N7 operatives, those who had seen real shit. The Alliance was in the business of churning through its recruits and retaining the Shepards of each generation. The rest were canon fodder for the batarians and pirates.
There was only one thing she held back. The attempted sexual assault was still too raw, too personal to share even with Scott. Maybe her father knew, it was in her report after all, maybe he didn't. It didn't really matter since they didn't have the kind of relationship anyway.
The touch was a fluke. It had to be. Ryder couldn't afford getting her hopes up. The anger of rejection was still there. A single touch didn't erased the past 20 years but she responded regardless. Her heart yearned for what her mind rejected.
Scott was subdued when she finished. "Fuck, Sara. I don't know what to say."
She chuckled. The sound bitter and dark as liquid tar. "Me too."
"I mean… Shit. I—"
"Scott, it's fine. I'm still processing it all. And I'm really tired, maybe we should end this here?" she asked. "Unless you're not done scolding me?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking really uncomfortable. She took pity on her brother and gave him a small smile. "I mean I know I deserved it. I should have tried to contact you earlier."
"You'd think, yeah?" Scott snorted. "But I can see you have a lot on your plate at that time. I'll let you go. Please don't send me messages only when you're dying next time, all right? Your big brother worries for you."
Her lips curled into a small smile, they had fallen back into old patterns, grooves well worn by years of a shared childhood. "12 minutes doesn't an older brother make."
That night as she slept fitfully, her eye lids twitched, her mouth twisting, a shadow stood at her door watching. The figure had their shoulders stiff and straight, their military bearing unmistakeable. In the gloom, grey eyes were oddly soft as they took in the sleeping figure on the bed. Their arms tightly folded against their chest as if holding back their emotions. They took a deep breath as their eyes hardened again.
"I'm sorry." they whispered before exiting the room, leaving no trace of their presence.
Ryder slept on, trapped in a nightmare, unaware of her visitor.
Her back against the wall. The air was still and quiet. Dust motes danced silently in the air. It was still early, maybe a couple of hours before the day cycle officially start. The wisps of an old nightmare tugged at her mind. Her mother, blood pooling at the kitchen, her sobbing as she tried to staunch the bleeding.
Ryder pressed her fingers against her temple. It seemed that her brush with death had rattled something loose in her head. Or maybe it was just being home, being back in her old cage.
She sighed and leaned her head against the wall. The curled edges of the poster tickling her back of her neck. She shifted her head to glance at the picture. Riley Shepard, Hero of the Blitz, the newly minted human Spectre and Saviour of the Citadel, stared back down. Having met the real woman, Ryder couldn't help admire Shepard more than she already did. The deeds were larger than life but the woman, the soldier, the leader was down to earth. The woman too had her ghosts haunting her. It was humbling to know even heroes were human.
She took a deep breath, the recycled Citadel air tasting fresher than it ever had in years. "I'm alive. That's what matters."
Her head jerked as she nodded off. Ryder inhaled sharply and blinked. It was well and truly the day cycle now. Light was streaming through the window. Skycars were zipping by outside. The Citadel was awake.
"Sara, breakfast's ready," her mother's voice drifted through her closed door.
She stretched, her neck and shoulders were stiff from her sleeping posture. Her ribs protested, reminding her that she had missed her dose of painkillers the night before.
Though the apartment was quiet, she could hear her mother puttering about in the kitchen. Something was playing from the audio system. Calm soothing piano notes and soothing strings drifted over. "Morning," she greeted as she stepped out of her room.
She hesitated when she saw an unfamiliar face in the kitchen. The salarian intercepted her before she entered the kitchen. "You must be Sara. I'm Astin Izoro, Ellen's home care nurse. I've heard so much about you." she said without taking a breath, "Ellen always had stories to tell me."
Ryder smiled. "Good stories I hope, Izoro."
"All you military types," the nurse chuckled. "Call me Astin. Ellen always has stories of her little hero."
Her smile waned a little. Astin seemed to have picked up on the change in mood. "I'll give you two a little privacy," she said, patting Ryder on the shoulder before retreating to the living room.
"Sara!" her mother exclaimed over the music as she entered the kitchen. "You should have your breakfast."
Let the years we're here be kind, be kind
Ryder's eyes darted over to the ham and cheese toast that her mother had made. Her heart lurched oddly at the sight. It was one of her favourites and she had never tasted better anywhere else. The sight served only to remind her of the time lost because she wasn't home.
Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide
"You're going to be late for school," her mother chided.
Ryder stiffened. Her jaw tightened. Eyes darted to search for Astin. The nurse was nowhere to her seen.
Settle our bones like wood over time, over time
"Sara? Are you all right?" her mother asked, approaching. Concern and apprehension were etched all over her face.
Ryder forced herself to smile. "Yes, I should. Let me go clean up first."
Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine
After washing up, she slid onto a chair. The cheese was melting perfectly between two slices of buttered and pan fried toast. The scent made her mouth watered.
"Come on, tuck in." Her mother handed her a fork as she took the seat opposite her.
Ryder looked at her mother, really looked. There was grey where previously there was none, lines and creases where it was once smooth. Even her eyes, always keen and sharp were now dulled by something more than age. Guilt weighed heavy on Ryder's chest.
"Ma, I want to skip school today."
Her mother frowned and narrowed her eyes at her. "Your grades weren't very good this past semester," she said sternly, her hands on her hips. "And eat."
She speared one of the slices and started eating. The saltiness of the cheese and ham, mixed with the starchiness of the bread was the taste of home. Ryder was never really one to miss home much. Her home was only a cage, a source of frustration and rejection. It was so closely tied to her father that she lost sight of her mother. This was where she was nurtured, this was where she grew up playing with Scott, this was a place of laughter and fun. It was more than the pain and tears.
Ryder wanted to remedy that while she was still here, while she was still home, while her mother was still able.
"Fuck, my grades. Let's go watch the latest Blasto movie and eat the best junk food we can find."
"Language, Sara," her mother chided but a mischievous grin lifted the corners of her mouth.
Three days, that was what she got. Ryder spoke to Astin before she took her mother out for their girls' day out. The salarian was reassuring but matter of fact at the same time. There was nothing much her mother couldn't do. Other than making sure she took her meds on time, and making sure she wasn't left completely unsupervised, everything would be fine. The fainting spells and dizziness were manageable with the medication. The only major worrying factor was the lapping waves of her memories as her mother drifted years in a matter of minutes.
Ryder was determined to make the most of it. She was going to ship out soon again, There was no way to know when she'd be able to do this again. If the caress of Death's fingers across her heart taught her one thing, it was to seize the moment. It might never come by again.
She leaned back against the chair. They were enjoying the artificial sun of the Citadel at the alfresco seating area of her mother's favourite cafe. Apollo served a variety of different cuisines, chief among them was an asari seafood dish her mother loved. At least that was the best she could remember from her teenage years. Ryder had no idea if her mother's tastes had changed in the intervening years.
"Sara, how did you know about this cafe? I really want to try this asari dish they are known for," her mother gushed.
Ryder smiled, relaxing as her mother went on. The energy and the life it sparked in her mother's eyes made it all worth while.
It was like looking back in time at the young woman her mother once was, the woman that she was before Ryder and her brother came along. This was the woman who was at the forefront of biotics and eezo research, the woman who bore twins and was the pillar of their household, the woman who pushed her out of the door and helped her find her place in the world.
This was Ellen Ryder, her mother.
By the time the waitress arrived with their orders, her mother had gone onto discussing the Blasto movie they had watched earlier. Ryder tucked into her order of an asari and human fusion crayfish pasta dish while her mother hummed her delight with every bite of the spiced grilled fish kebab and flatbread order.
This was peace, or as close as Ryder had experienced in the past couple of years. It was this moment. The gentle heat of the Citadel beating down on her face, good food warming in her belly and the company of her mother.
But all good things had to come to an end.
The change in her mother's demeanour was sudden. The tension ran across her shoulders and neck, her eyes darted wildly as her fork faltered between mouth and plate. The piece of fish fell with a splat back onto the plate.
"Ma," Ryder asked cautiously, Astin had warned her of these signs. "Is everything ok?"
Her mother flinched as if realising she was sitting opposite her all this time. Ryder's heart did a flop. There was no sense of recognition there.
"Did you see my daughter? She is just five. She has brown hair like yours. She is this tall," she said as she lifted her hand to gesture about table's height. "She just had her implant surgery, she shouldn't be running around on her own but you know kids."
The sheepish yet worried smile her mother flashed her cracked the mask she put on. She swallowed, hoping the lump that was forming in her throat to go away. "I… I'm sure she is just playing with her brother," she said, knowing how unconvincing she sounded. "Her father must be watching her."
Her mother sighed and seemed to be vaguely reassured by her words. She slid a hand across to take Ryder's into her own. "Thank you, for listening to a tired mother and her rants. But between you and me, my husband isn't the best with kids," she said as a look of frustration and anger crossed her face. "Especially when it came to dealing with our daughter."
Fuck, I don't want to know. I really do not want to know. Please don't tell me he never wanted me, please don't tell me he hated me. Please.
Something in her eyes must have communicated how fervently she was repeating the litany in her head. Her mother gave her a tight smile and straightened. "Please excuse me, I need to use the wash room."
Ryder sat and watched helplessly as her mother stood and disappeared towards the ladies. Astin's voice echoed in her head. "She cannot be left unsupervised. It is heartbreaking for her to not recognise you but she will be scared and alone. You will need to be there for her, maybe you're not her daughter in that moment but you will be the helpful stranger. Remember, she needs you."
Her instinct was to run. That was what she had been doing for years since she was 16. She ran, hard and fast and never returned. She had been selfish for years. Scott had been here, watching how their mother slid into this slow decay of her personhood. Hell, even her father was there for her mother. She was the bird that flown the coop and forgotten about the person who set her free.
Ryder gritted her teeth and stood. As hard it was to throw her heart into the fire again, this wasn't about her. This was about her mother. She stood and walked towards the ladies. Her body stiff and all hard edges as she leaned against the bar that bordered the entrance to the washrooms.
There was an asari bartender cleaning the glasses. Her brown eyes sharp and evaluating as she eyed Ryder. "Tough day, kid?"
Ryder took a shuddering breath and nodded.
"Here." A glass filled with a finger of brown liquid slid towards her. "Name's Aethyta. What's yours kid?"
"Ryder."
"I asked you for your name, not your father's."
Ryder sighed. "Sara, Sara Ryder."
Aethyta hummed. There was the telltale sound of recognition in that sound but she didn't followed up with the usual questions. Instead, she asked, "You're going to drink that?"
Ryder peeled her eyes from the washroom's door and looked at the drink by her hand. As she reached for it, Aethyta covered it with a blue palm. "Wait a minute, how old are you exactly? What's the legal drinking age for humans? 50? 100?"
She chuckled while Aethyta frowned. "I'm 20 and I'm old enough to drink."
Before the asari could change her mind, Ryder drained the glass and grimaced. She coughed. "What is this?"
"This? One of my new cocktails, I call this the Bitterness of Life."
With tears standing in her eyes as she struggled to find her voice, she croaked, "Fits."
Aethyta snorted. "Of course. Kid, just an advice from an asari matriarch, 25 times your senior or so, cherish every moment you have. It only hurts because you are alive."
Ryder blinked. "What are you, a walking inspirational poster?"
The asari rolled her eyes before jerking her chin in the direction of the washroom. "Remember what I said."
She sobered up quickly when she realised her mother was approaching. Her jaw tightened. "I will," she sighed. "How much for the drink?"
"On the house, kid," Aethyta said dismissively.
Ryder held her brown eyed gaze for a moment. There was a flash of regret, of chances missed, of opportunities lost and most of all grief. She gulped. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
Before Aethyta could speak, her mother exclaimed, "There you are! I was looking all over for you, Sara."
Ryder's orders came in earlier that day. She was to report to D42 at the Alliance docks tomorrow at 0600 hours. That was roughly 24 hours away. It put a dampener on her plans. She had intended to take her mother out for a nice little picnic lunch at the Presidium gardens. It would be restful as they people-watched and ate. At least, that was her intention.
Now, her mood had taken a dive. Logically, Ryder knew this time couldn't last. She had to return to duty. Well, the Alliance bureaucracy had caught up with her. Resisting the urge to check which garrison or ship she was assigned to was easy enough, she just wasn't in the mood.
Ryder had rose early to make breakfast. She figured she would do her best to make up for all the missed Mother's Day, birthdays and reunion dinners into the short time she had. The orange glow of her omni-tool cast a warm light in the kitchen. The acknowledge button blinked slowly. She stabbed at it with a grunt. The message winked out.
Ryder braced herself against the island, bread, ham and eggs all arrayed before her. In the tiny island of domesticity and calm, the long arm of the Alliance had reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. There was a part of her that felt relieved. It was an out, it was her escape. It was the blinkers she had pulled over her eyes all this time. But after having this tiny slice of normalcy with her mother, could she pull them back on again?
No, fuck this. Cherish every moment I have.
Once decided, she straightened, pulling the frying pan from the cupboard and set about making breakfast. By the time her mother had emerged from her room, and was led to kitchen by her nose, the smile she was graced with, the hums of delight as her mother ate made it all worth it.
That evening after Astin left, they were just sitting on the sofa watching a movie together. It was one of those 21st century movies that used to be one of her favourites when she was younger. Her eyes followed the action but her heart wasn't in. Ryder sighed.
"What is it?" her mother asked. "You have been sighing all day. Is it that turian boy again? Have you been fighting?"
Her mother had been stuck in the past the entire day. In a way it was easier to deal with than flicking across different years. For her mother, today was just another day. Her daughter was home after school, another day where her little girl felt like a freak among normals. It was her everyday.
"Come here," her mother said gently, pulling her close, patting her lap.
Ryder's eyebrows rose. "I'm a big girl."
"But still my little hero," she replied easily. "Come on."
With an insistent tug, Ryder allowed herself to be guided to lay her head on her mother's lap. Her mother's fingers worked a little to undo her pony tail, brown hair fell across her face and shoulders. The slightly bony, slightly unsteady fingers threaded through her hair, pushing them away from her face. Ryder closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax, to enjoy the sensation. Her mother started humming softly.
For a while, behind the darkness of her closed eyes, she was 15 once more. She was hovering on the verge of leaving the only place she had ever known, leaving everything behind for the unknown.
The stroking faltered. Ryder stiffened, sensing a shift again. She bit her lip and waited.
"Sara…"
Her name drifted like a line cast out into the river. "Ma," she whispered. "Is everything ok?"
"I… Sorry," her mother said, clearing her throat. "I've drifted again haven't I?"
"Yeah." Ryder shifted to sit up but her mother pressed her down.
"Stay like this. It's been a while since I had you in my lap," her mother whispered. "I've missed this."
Ryder took a deep breath and sighed. "Ok."
She closed her eyes as her mother pressed her lips onto her forehead.
Lyrics taken from North by Sleeping At Last