Shepard continues to flashback to Mindoir so trigger warnings for non-con, and violence against minors. There are no graphic or even specific details, just the suggestion, but forewarned is always a good thing. If you are triggered by these things, the flashbacks are all in italics, and the rest of the chapter can be followed easily on its own.
Shepard stepped up into the ERCS APC and headed straight for the back corner of the troop compartment. She strapped herself into the furthest seat and pulled her knees up to her chest, curling into as tight a ball as she could manage. Garrus tried to sit next to her, but Sgt. Stirling intercepted him, seating him at the front. Whether because the sergeant felt Shepard's need for space or some other agenda, Stirling kept her people at the front as well, earning no small measure of gratitude.
The sullen, hurt expression on Garrus's face cut through her, but Shepard let out a long, if a little guilt-riddled, sigh of relief as the lights lowered and the vehicles began to move. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested the brow of her helmet on her knees. Curious and concerned eyes bored into her, attempting to solve her mysteries. For a second, she tried to uncurl, to sit up properly, slipping back behind the mask she wore so well for the sake of appearances.
Bunny screamed, a constant shrill of sounds and garbled words, but through her cocoon of suffering, soullessness, and mud, Jane saw that the slavers hadn't touched the child.
"Not dead yet, are you? Hm. Tough little bitch."
A thin powder of misery spilled from Jane's lips as Remit tossed her over his shoulder as if she posed no greater a burden than a sack of flour . . . no, a mummified corpse—desiccated, drained, and brittle. The slavers joked and jostled one another as they returned to the street, high off endorphins and depravity. Endless moments of agonized bouncing and jarring later, the batarian let Jane roll down his arm to thump on the ground in a tangled heap.
She struggled to lift her head. Bunny. Where is Bunny?
She opened one, swollen eye in time to see them shove Bunny into a nearby cage.
"Bunny?" Her father's shout dragged a sob of relief from Jane's throat. He hadn't been killed.
Another moan inched out to clip its heels when her mother's voice rang out a moment later, "Bunny, where's Jane?"
She closed her mind against the papa and mama bear roars of pain and pounding of fists against steel that followed, her eyelids slamming down like security doors sealing a breach. Cold, unforgiving metal locked around her neck, wrists, and ankles, but she burrowed into the catacombs deep within her mind, hiding there as they staked her out, spread-eagle on the ground.
Shepard curled back up, turtling even tighter than before. The memories set off an earthquake that shook apart her foundations, cracking the small island nation of Shepard in half. The accompanying tsunami rolled in heavy behind, the waves growing higher and higher as they neared shore, and all she could do was pray that they didn't hit until she could safely ride them out in her quarters.
She'd make everything up to Garrus once her shields recovered, and she got her walls rebuilt. She'd managed to function just fine for thirteen years with Mindoir hanging from her soul, well . . . most of the time. The cold, black intelligence behind the orb and its oilslick spiders couldn't be allowed to sabotage that. She could get back to functional. She needed to get back to functional. The alternative . . . she wouldn't do well in a cage, even one camouflaged under the noble ideas of healing and kindness.
Back in Port Hanshan, Garrus's grumbles followed her the entire way through their 'perp walk' from the garage to the administrator's office. Shepard left him to it, embracing the solitude of the wide no-man's-land the sergeant and her people allowed her to erect, extending her personal space by a sanity-saving couple of metres.
Shivering, she struggled to count her steps and center herself. She'd never needed to be a warrior more than she did right then.
Breathe, two, three, four.
Is it possible to die and just never figure it out, Janey? Is that how you keep going? You just deny that you died and keep on shuffling, a zombie hiding among the normals?
Breathe, two, three, four. Her lungs, seized tighter than ancient bellows, pulled in trembling, thin draughts of air. She rolled her shoulders, squaring them, and cracked her neck. Breathe, two, three, four. "Come on, Shepard. Damn it," she whispered, trying to whip the mewling, spitting kitten at her core to spring out of the dark as a cougar, snarling and ready for the fight. A slow, soft chuckle bubbled once in her throat as she thought of what Kaidan had said about her mixing metaphors.
Sergeant Stirling stopped outside a set of large, glass doors. "Captain Shepard, you need to go in here. Officer Vakarian, you'll be taken to Urdnot Wrex and Chief Williams." She held out an arm to guide Shepard through the doors.
"Hold on, Janey," her father called. "I know you have the strength to get through this." His voice opened up, its volume beating at the walls of her shelter. "We all do. Everyone pray. Don't give in to despair. We can outlast—"
"Shepard . . .." Garrus took her hand, stopping her from walking away. He stared into her eyes, obviously not wanting to leave her. "Are you . . .?"
Her throat tightened, eyes burning a little, but she blinked her reaction back. As much as she appreciated his affection and support, she needed time to shake off the 'refrigerated chicken meat in armour' feeling . . . to stand the agony of being trapped in her own skin before anyone else touched her.
"Five by five, C-Sec." She reached up to press her hand against his cheek. "I'll see you in a little while." After a second's hesitation, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick, soft kiss. "I'm fine," she whispered before pulling back.
Shepard watched them lead Garrus off, giving him a nod and a wink to quiet his protests, relieved that she didn't have to deal with his sympathy and curiosity for a while. Some things did nothing to help a new, fragile relationship.
Stirling led her to a large waiting room and nodded toward a solitary figure sitting on a long metal bench. He sat hunched over, looking sore and miserable, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
Shepard paused at the threshold.
"We love you, Janey." Her father let out a mad, hiccoughing sob, his voice wavering as he called out a steady litany, tying himself to her with the only rope he had, a guidewire through the utter dark of the second night. His rebellion of pyjama and underwear-clad insurgents wielding rocks and improvised clubs had killed four slavers. Once the slavers quelled the doomed uprising, they punished the ringleader—her father—and the men involved, using Jane as their lash, a weapon that cut deep and left brutal scars no one could see.
Her father's voice found her down in her mental labyrinth, but it sounded weak and hollow as it settled through the layers of her shattered body, mind, and spirit. "You're so strong. We're going to get through this, sweetheart. Just hang on to the sound of my voice. We love you so much, our brave, beautiful girl."
"Captain Shepard?" The sergeant pushed on her shoulder, just hard enough to pull her back.
Shepard nodded, but didn't step forward. Closing her eyes, she breathed as deep and quick as she could manage without passing out, supersaturating her blood with oxygen—a short-lived, but natural high.
High. A capsule of pressure exploded inside her gut, a bottle-rocket of need that she packed down as quickly as it detonated.
Molding the unwilling clay of her face, she sculpted a grin that felt like a mask of betrayal. Slapping it in place, she stepped through the door, drawing Nihlus's attention. Throwing her hands into the air she called out, her voice hard and brittle, "Glory hallelujah. Praise the Enkindlers' light. I have returned from my time wandering this Enkindler-cursed ocean of snow."
She studied him for a second, both evaluating his condition and watching for any sign he saw through her act. He looked far too miserable to notice anything short of small bomb going off under his nose. Pain billowed off of him with every breath. "Holy Father of Light, Kryik," she called, striding a few metres into the room. "You didn't tell these lucre-soaked heathens that a krogan crushed you like the tiny crustacean-in-hanar's-tentacles that you are, did you?"
She turned to the sergeant. "Sister Stirling, please enlighten whomever we're waiting for with the word that Spectre Kryik is still recovering from a near-fatal injury sustained just days ago. If they can't bless us with their presence immediately, he needs to lie down."
The sergeant cocked an eyebrow, and her lip curled a little, but she nodded. "I'll let Ms. Parasini know."
"Glory be, I knew the light of the Enkindlers dwelt within your heart." She drew in a few more deep, fast breaths. "I need to call my ship. May I?" Shepard stopped partway across the room and glanced back. When the sergeant gave her the nod, she opened a channel.
"Captain. You all right?" Kaidan's voice dropped through the center of Shepard, anchoring her, a point of connection with the part of her life that made sense. "We saw Peak 15 go up from orbit. Glad you weren't still there."
"Brother Sparky," she called, wincing a little at the relief that bled into her voice. "I'm fine, glory hallelujah. May I impose upon you to bring that crate? It would also be best if you brought Brother Jenkins along instead of Liara. If security tries to look into the crate, enlighten them that it is Spectre Kryik's property."
"Yes, ma'am. Alenko, out."
"What was that about?" Nihlus moved to stand, but she waved him back down.
"Leverage, Brother Wretchedness. Leverage." She shrugged and shook her head. "You look like complete crap, by the way." She sat next to him. "Why didn't you tell them?"
He wrapped an arm around his lower chest as he shrugged and let out a careful chuckle. "Ease up, Shepard. I'm sore, but okay. No harm done." He looked up at her. "Speaking of crap, you look like you've passed through a krogan digestive tract. What happened out there?"
"Gross, Nihlus." Shepard winced and shook her head. "Nothing happened, at least until we hit the rooms of gooey webs and dead geth everywhere. Then a dying matriarch told me some the scariest shit ever, glory hallelujah. There's more, but there are too many ears listening and too few of them walk in the light." Shepard shrugged. "Long story short . . . Saren tried to raise an army of rachni. The rachni all lost their minds, and now Peak 15 is a big, smoking hole. Praise be."
"Spirits. What was he thinking? Rachni . . .." He shook his head, but then shuddered as if shaking those questions off. "For most people, I'd say that was reason enough to look like a varren ate them then spat them back up, but you . . .? I don't buy it." He leaned down, but didn't enter her space. "Something's shaken the hell out of you. Talk to me, Shepard."
She shook her head. "Nothing to report, Brother Nihlus. It's all good. Glory hallelujah. Let's just focus on getting the hell out of here. Noveria creeps me out."
"Nihlus?" A pretty woman with olive skin and dark hair tied back into a severe-looking bun stepped through a door just to their right. She strode over and held out her hand to Shepard. "Captain Shepard?"
Shepard stood and shook the offered hand. "That's me." Bending down, she helped Nihlus to his feet, wincing at the pained moan he couldn't quite hide.
"Gianna Parasini," the woman said, "Noveria Internal Affairs." She looked at Nihlus. "Why didn't you tell me you were badly hurt? I wouldn't have had you running around getting into gunfights."
"I'm fine." He looked down at Shepard, scowling as she activated her omnitool and used it to trigger his armour's medi-gel dispenser.
Making a show of ignoring him, Shepard forced herself to focus and smiled at the woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you, but if we could move this along, that would be great. Stubborn ass here needs to get back to our ship's med bay."
"Of course, come in." She led the way into another mostly barren, cement space, gesturing toward a couple of chairs on the near side of the desk. "Please, sit. Can I get you anything?"
Shepard waited for Nihlus to answer, then shook her head. "No, thank you. However, in a few minutes, two gentlemen from my crew will be arriving with a crate. Could they be shown right in? As I said, I'd like to keep this moving." Shrugging off Nihlus's protests, she helped him sit before perching on the edge of a chair herself.
"Pray Janey. Pray for the baby Jesus to help you bear your cross," her mother's voice cut through the darkness. Jane pulled it down into her warren, wrapping herself in its warmth and solace even though she refused the advice. Praying. What good had praying done any of them?
"Answer me, sweetie, please," her mother cried, her voice a thicket of sobbing and phlegm. "Let me know you're still there."
Gravel crunched under heavy boots, the grinding sound morphing into laughter and then words. "You want to know if she's still alive, little mother?" The voice vanished back into boot steps that stopped at Jane's head. The familiar, almost comforting whistle of the whip snapped through the air, the end slicing through the web of partially healed weals and scars. Her mother's proof of life came in the form of a scream followed by a torrent of gagging and dry heaving, Jane's tears having long since dried, leaving only her skin to bleed.
Shepard blinked, pressing her eyelids so tight that a wave of dizziness washed her toward shore before tumbling her back out to sea.
Parasini sat, folded her hands on the desk, staring at her. Shepard gave her a quick nod, but even then the woman hesitated a moment longer before speaking. "Your antics have the Executive Board in quite an uproar. They don't take kindly to Spectres or agents of any government's military just dropping into their client's research facilities."
Nihlus let out a sound that could have been a sigh or a snarl. "A Code White was called, Gianna. I was authorized to investigate and contain the situation."
"Even with a Code White, you should have checked in with the administrator first. And you didn't investigate, Nihlus, you dropped Captain Shepard instead. She isn't a Spectre." She held up her hands to stop his protest. "They've taken into consideration your assistance proving Anoleis's corruption, but they're going to fine you, heavily. I'm sorry, Nihlus, but my position doesn't carry enough weight to throw our friendship around."
Shepard shook her head. "So far have they been cast from the Enkindlers' wisdom and light." After meeting Gianna's puzzled stare for a moment, Shepard activated her omnitool, bringing up her hard suit recording. She glanced around for a vid terminal, selected the specific time stamps, then sent the files to the screen. "As you can see, Peak 15 seemed deserted when we arrived, but for a couple of geth colossus units left behind to slow down anyone coming into the facility."
"Geth?" Gianna cursed under her breath. "I heard rumors of geth, but . . .."
"Saren Arterius also attacked Eden Prime using a splinter faction of geth, but the geth presence is hardly the worst sin Saren has perpetrated on Noveria." Shepard fast forwarded through the hours of empty rooms and corridors to where they found the dead rachni.
"What the hell is that?" the IA officer muttered under her breath.
"A rachni soldier." Shepard nodded in answer to the woman's incredulous expression. "Saren's agents discovered a rachni egg on a derelict ship. They hatched it to discover that it was a queen." She let the footage run, skipping all of her talk with Benezia and the queen, except where the matriarch confirmed the information about the rachni.
"We fought our way out through a small army of the soldiers and workers." Shepard turned to the vid screen as it showed Saren evacuating in the company of his geth squad.
"Good god," Gianna said, shaking her head. After a moment, she sighed and looked up. "It's horrific, but the board is only going to care about your trespassing. What clients do in their labs is their business. It's the reason that the facilities themselves have so many security precautions: the code omega, hot labs, and neutron purge. If a company reports that they've lost containment of a project, the Executive Board activating the orbital bombardment is a last resort."
Shepard chuffed and shook her head, incredulous. "Seriously? Saren misuses company facilities to breed rachni, loses control of those rachni, and in the end, costs an asari matriarch and who knows how many employees their lives, and your response is, 'What companies do in their labs is their business'?" She caught the warning glare that Nihlus shot at her, but didn't acknowledge it.
"Ms. Parasini," Stirling called from the door, "a delivery for Spectre Kryik."
"It's expected, thank you, Sergeant." Parasini stood.
Shepard got up to meet Kaidan and Jenkins halfway across the floor. "Thank you, gentlemen. Head back to the Normandy. We'll be leaving soon." She took the crate.
"Aye, ma'am." Kaidan saluted, turned on his heel and left.
Jenkins stayed. "I'd feel better if you had some backup, ma'am." He nodded to Nihlus. "Who isn't wounded. No disrespect intended, Nihlus."
Shepard gave Jenkins a wink and nodded for him to go ahead out. "I'm fine. We'll be aboard shortly." Still, the young man pinned her, his expression one of such absolute empathy that she wondered just how horrendous she looked. Wincing as his stare chipped away at her frayed emotions, breaking down what small amount of control she'd gained, she willed him to move along. "Go, Corporal." Finally, he snapped a salute and followed Kaidan from the office. A relieved breath rushed from her lungs.
"Where are you taking us? Janey! My daughter . . . I can't leave her." Her mother's protests and sounds of struggle grew more and more faint. "Janey!"
"You aren't leaving anyone behind, lady. Your little whore stopped breathing over an hour ago."
"Noooo! No, Janey!" Her mother's screams rose in volume and frantic denial for a moment, then stopped suddenly.
A terrible landslide of laughter rumbled low and terrible, sweeping away everything Jane had ever known. And the cold, black air kept trickling into her lungs no matter how much she cursed it, no matter how much she wished for it to stop and let her rest.
The room swam back into focus, Noveria's concrete and wild blizzard replacing the endless darkness of Shepard's internal catacombs. She let out a long, shaking breath and gathered her scattered wits. How long had she blanked that time? Squaring her shoulders and clenching her teeth, she turned back to face Nihlus and Gianna.
"What's this?" Parasini asked. A crow straining to see jewels on the other side of a window, the IA officer leaned forward. Only her fingers pressed against the glass kept her from doing a face plant into the desktop.
"A few days back we raided a Blood Pack base. In searching through the base for intel, we found these items. I'm assuming because of their origin that Saren used them to pay the Blood Pack for their services." Shepard set the crate on the desk and opened the lid.
Parasini gasped and reached in, pulling out a biotic implant. "This is experimental tech. Armali Council has been trying to determine whether Binary Helix was cutting in on their biotic engineering and implant development—usually by not-entirely-legal means." She dove back into the crate. "Are the schematics in here as well?"
After a few minutes of muttering to herself and consulting with her omnitool, Parasini turned to Shepard, a wide smile brightening her features. "You've just saved me three or four months of undercover work and solved three corporate espionage cases, Captain." She cut a hand toward Shepard's chair. "Please, sit. You look exhausted."
Congratulations on fooling absolutely no one.
Shepard folded onto the chair. "The data pad contains the vid logs from the hard suits of the Marines who conducted the search of the Blood Pack base if you need that information as evidence."
"Is that where you were hurt, Nihlus?" Parasini asked, a smartass smile trying to break through her professional mask. "Krogan battlemasters have always been your weak spot."
Nihlus shook his head and chuffed a little but didn't elaborate.
"I'll take these to the Executive Board. I can't guarantee anything, but I'm fairly sure between the evidence from Peak 15 and these, we should be able to get you out of here without a king's ransom worth of fines." Parasini packed everything back in the crate and stood. "Nihlus, how about I get someone to show you to the infirmary, you can lie down while the Board meets." When it looked like he intended to argue, the woman laughed. "You don't have to prove what a stubborn ass you are, Spectre. I already know. Do you really want to sit here for a couple of hours?"
Grumbling, Nihlus nodded. "Very well." He looked over at Shepard. "You're going to wait?"
Shepard shook her head. "Ms. Parasini, do I need to stay in this office, or can I wander a little, providing I'm reachable by radio?" She pushed out of her chair, stacking her vertebrae gingerly one of top of the other, squaring and balancing—composing—herself as she straightened, using the movements to shore up the wall holding the memories at bay. A few more minutes of holding back the crazy, and then . . . and then . . ..
She clenched her jaw and looked to Parasini. "May my people head back to the Normandy? I'll make sure they're available if you need them."
Parasini thought for a second, then nodded. "They can go back to your ship, as long as I can get ahold of them if the board has questions." She let out a quick huff of air, her brow furrowing. "Where did you plan on wandering to, Captain Shepard?"
To find your nearest high quality drug dealer and pay a small fortune for chemical amnesia.
Shepard swallowed the need. It began to grow, spreading tentacles of panic through her guts and out into her limbs.
"Hey there, sweet little lady. You look like you could use something to take the edge off." The young man danced around her a little. "Come on, baby. Let me hook you up. No one so beautiful should look so sad."
Shepard shook her head, dug her fists down further into her pockets and hunched her shoulders, pushing past him. She needed to get back to the abandoned theater where she'd been squatting in the attic. A quick glance up past the towering skyscrapers confirmed how close dark was. Closing her fingers around her last ten credits, she held tight to the soup and sandwich she'd get the next day from the local soup kitchen. No way was she blowing that for drugs.
"Look baby, I'll set you up, no charge. Call it a moment of weakness for a pretty face." The dealer grinned, teasing her a broad wink. "Trust me, baby, it's a blissful buzz." He shoved a small packet into her jacket pocket. "This shit will set you free."
She shoved the jittery-panic-craving back down. No matter how tempting, she couldn't let herself fall down that rabbit hole again. Not after being clean for so long. Still that buzzing whir in the center of her chest just kept pressing out, making it harder to breathe, harder to think.
"Captain?"
Focus, Janey. For pity's sake. They're going to put you in a hugging jacket.
"Sorry, I'm just a little preoccupied, and please, Shepard is fine." She shivered, then lifted her arm to turn up her suit heater, using it as a welcome focus for her attention. "I need to talk to Urdnot Wrex before we return to the ship, so is there a bar somewhere?"
"Yes, upstairs in the hotel." Parasini nodded. "As long as you don't leave the building and stay in radio contact, that should be fine. I'll radio as soon as I know anything." She looked down at the crate as she picked it up. "Thank you for this. You could have easily sold these for an insane number of credits."
"Well, I'll be an Enkindler's glowing backside. If I'd known that . . .." She held out her hands. "Give them back." Chuckling wearily, she shook her head. "That's not the way we work, Ms. Parasini." Her arms dropped back to her sides. "Please do what you can to get us out of here as soon as possible."
"I'll do my best." She hoisted the crate under one arm, balancing it on a hip. "Sergeant Stirling, Sergeant Tillian, could you report to the administrator's office, please?" She turned off the intercom. "The sergeant will show you to the rest of your crew, Captain."
"Thank you." Shepard helped Nihlus out of his chair. He moved as though he'd aged seventy cycles in the few hours since she'd seen him last, but other than a soft grunt or two, he kept his pain under wraps. "Do you want to lean on me to get there?" she whispered, hitting his medi-gel.
"I'm okay, just stiffening up. Once I lay down for a bit, I'll be fine. Stop fussing, and go do what you need to." He stretched a little. "Thanks, the medi-gel helps."
"So does a mallet to the head. The pain is still there for a reason. Take it slow." Despite his protests, she wrapped his arm around her shoulders, helping him to the door. "Besides, fussing over you helps me, so shut it, Brother Kryik."
They split up at the elevator, the dour-faced Sergeant leading Shepard off two floors after Nihlus disembarked. They walked down a long, corridor of towering concrete. God, Noveria was ugly.
"Come on, Lucas, you know I'm good for it." Janey followed the young man down the street, shaking hands buried in the bottoms of her pockets to stop from convulsively picking at her neck. Enough of the drug had worn out of her system that the muscles under her jaw had begun to tick. "It's been a slow week down at the shop, but we're supposed to be getting a whole load of shuttles in this week."
"No way, Jane." The dealer stopped and nodded toward to street. "Why are you down here begging for a fix? You've got options. Hell, I wish I had options like the ones waiting for you." His brow furrowed, and he shook his head as he met her pleading eyes. "Just, no. I'm not helping you kill yourself slowly any more." Speeding up, he turned a corner, ducking into a covered garage.
"Oh for fuck's sake. He came down here, didn't he?" She ran after him and grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "That's why, right? Anderson came down here, threw his rank around a bit and left with your balls in his pocket."
Lucas stopped, turning on her, rigid and furious. "Watch the way you talk to me, gutterpup. Now, back off and go home . . . and not to that dumpster. Go back to Anderson, get cleaned up, and give yourself a fucking shot."
Jane leapt at him, a banshee shriek echoing off the pillars and endless rows of skycars. "Just give me the fucking drugs, asshole. You don't know anything about me. Fuck." She began rifling through his pockets, stopping only when she caught the glint of a steel edge between them. Laughing, she backed up a couple of steps. "What? You going to gut me, Lucas? Fucking pussy. You think I haven't suffered through worse?"
He backed up. "Just go home, Jane." After a couple of steps, he turned and lifted into a run.
"Fucking hell! Just give me the damned drugs." A rabid dog snapping free of its chain, Jane ran him down, blows pounding his head and shoulders until she managed to get her arm wrapped around his neck. His hip slammed back into her, and he flipped her over his side, reversing the hold. She saw a glint of the knife just as she threw herself back against him, and he lost his balance. The knife hardly hurt at all as it buried itself in her side, tearing her open from breast to—
Garrus stepped up beside her, his hand brushing her fingers as he pushed past her professional space and into personal just far enough to throw a bulwark up at her back. She leaned into it gratefully and managed a smile as their eyes met. Blinking, she shook her head, managing to clear it enough to see Ashley and Wrex hurrying over to her as well. Shit, where had she been for the walk from the elevator? If she didn't get her crazy buttoned up quick, they were going to slap her in running shoes with no laces and lock her in a room with no windows.
Shepard held up a hand to still their questions. "Brother Garrus, Sister Ashley, you can both return to the Normandy. Just be available if Gianna Parasini calls with questions. I doubt she will, though." She glanced up into Garrus's eyes, willing him to just do as she'd said and go back to the ship without an argument.
After a moment, he nodded and turned. "Come on, Chief." Before he walked away, his fingers snagged Shepard's, his voice lowering to remain between them. "If you need me . . .."
"I'll call." Pressing her lips together in a wan smile, she turned to Wrex. "Come on, Wrex, let's go have a chat."
"You change your mind, Shepard? No female can resist my smoldering good looks for long. You held out longer than most. It's the headplate, isn't it?" the krogan asked, falling in step beside her.
"You're still way too much for me to handle, big guy." A blessedly easy smile morphed out of the thin, tight one as her face relaxed, responding to Wrex's humor. "Nah, this is business."
"Business?" He grumbled and hitched up his armour as if preparing for battle. "That can't be good."
(A-N: Once again, my thanks to my word warrior squad of doom. And to Bahoogasmif for helping me when I can't hear Wrex. And to you amazing readers who continue to come back. All the love.