Garrus met them at the Normandy's inner hatch. He took one look at Shepard, then sighed and shook his head. "You're not looking so good. Are you all right?" One hand lifted halfway to her face before he stopped and glanced around as if remembering the eyes that watched them from everywhere. It dropped back to his side. "Maybe we should get you to Dr. Chakwas."

Shepard stared at him for a moment, life . . . nice, sane, all-systems-normal life, reasserting itself through the fog of the absinthe. Guilt wormed its way to the surface along with the scent and feel of Nihlus pressed against her lips. Pushing it aside with a promise to come clean with Garrus as soon as they could manage some alone time, she forced herself to focus.

What had he said? Right . . . needed to see Dr. Chakwas. "You speak the truth, Brother C-Sec." She stepped up, meaning to lean through the cockpit access and speak to Joker. However, the door moved at the last second, and she face planted into the bulkhead. "Ow." Shoving herself away, she managed to line up on the second try. "Joker, have we heard from Legion?"

Garrus pulled her back square on her feet, holding her there with a hand on her shoulder as he replied for the pilot, "He sent his coordinates. They're ready for pick up."

"He's on a straight shot from the docks on our flight path, and he's on the other side of the mountain, so we shouldn't get shot out of the sky," Joker added. "But don't count on us ever being invited back."

"I don't intend to come back if I can help it." She frowned at Garrus, reaching up to poke at his familia notas as they danced over his face. "Have they always done that?" She giggled and tipped forward, his hand and a quick grab at the keel of his armour catching her just before she fell past him and into the wall. "You're beautiful."

"Wow," Joker called from behind her, "someone's hammered."

"You also speak the truth, Brother Joker," Shepard replied. "I need food." Feeling a presence at her back, Shepard turned, stumbling a little as it tipped her balance. Once again, Garrus caught her and helped her turn around. "Nihlus . . ." She reached out and took his hand. "Thank you for scraping me off the floor and bringing me back."

The Spectre nodded. "You're welcome. Get some rest when you can. We'll meet in the morning to get on the same page?"

"Sure." She glanced over at Joker. "What's our ETA for Tuntau, Joker?"

"1100 hrs."

"We'll meet at 0800?" she asked Nihlus. "Oh wait . . . Liara. I need to tell her what happened. Do you . . . ahhh . . . want to be there?"

Nihlus nodded. "I'll go down and prepare the ship for our new guest. When you're ready to speak with Liara, give me a call." He set out ahead of them, striding with purpose until he reached Pressly. He spoke to the XO for a moment, then continued on.

Garrus settled Shepard back on her own two feet. "Come on, Shepard, let's go get you sorted." He twisted to look back over his shoulder. "As soon as we get clearance to leave from Port Hanshan control, head for those coordinates, Joker."

"Guess I missed the memo where you joined the chain of command," the pilot replied, a layer of real anger sliding underneath the snarky humour.

"I'm the chain of command," Shepard said, her voice lowering, "and I say, stop being an ass, and take us to pick up Legion." She pulled away from Garrus, balancing herself with fingertips pressed to the bulkhead.

"Yes, ma'am, Captain Crazy, ma'am," Joker grumbled behind her.

Shepard let the comment go and took a stumbling step down the CIC. "Whoa, we need to adjust the inertial dampeners."

"We're not moving." Garrus wrapped an arm around her. "Come on, I'll help you navigate the very tricky, flat deck plating."

Leaning into his side, Shepard concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, managing to make it to the stairs without falling over. Once they reached the stairs, however, and the door closed behind them, Garrus lifted her off her feet, carrying her down.

"Hey, what are . . .?" The curving walls swooped around her, taking her stomach along for the ride, but before she could finish the sentence, he set her back on her feet at the bottom. "I'm not feeling so good," she whispered, clapping her hand over her mouth.

"How much did you drink?" he asked, tucking her in tight against his side.

She hiccoughed again. "Not that much, but I'm a com . . . complete lightweight, and that stuff was strong." Pulling away a little, she put a not professional, but at least not intimate distance between them. Drunk or not, the crew gossiped enough without adding to it. Blessedly, it was mid-shift and the galley stood empty.

Shepard frowned, scrunching up her face as her stomach flopped in a fairly insistent roll. Pressing her hand over her mouth, she took long, slow deep breaths.

"You're going to vomit, aren't you?" Garrus scooped her up and burst into the med bay. "Dr. Chakwas, we need a . . .."

"What on earth?" The doctor snatched a bag from a shelf, snapped it open and shoved it under Shepard's chin just in time.

Shepard vaguely heard the doc talking outside her bubble of heaving misery, but it slurred into a buzz of sound as her body forcibly evicted the alcohol remaining in her stomach. Only after she passed through the dry heaving stage to knee-shaking weariness, did she notice the doctor's omnitool scanning her.

She held out the bag. "Could I get something to wipe my mouth, please?"

"What happened today, Captain?" the doctor asked and passed her a handful of wipes. "Hop up on a bed and lay down. It looks like the alcohol is the least of your problems."

Shepard lifted one leg and rolled onto the bed, laying mostly face down. "What do you mean, Doc?"

"Your neural scans are a mess. You're showing signs of damage throughout your limbic system. I need you to tell me everything that happened today." She pressed a syringe to the vein in Shepard's neck. "This will alleviate the symptoms of your drinking. We'll have to treat you for a couple of days, but like I said you have bigger issues."

Shepard's pulse throbbed three beats under the syringe, then the pressure lifted. Her entire body prickled, her armour and clothing uncomfortable against her skin. After a couple of seconds, the tossed on a stormy sea sensation began to ease, replaced by blades of obsidian pain stabbing and twisting into her brain.

"Damn it, Doc, the booze was the only thing holding the spiders at bay." She pressed her hands to her temples. "Now they've all got knives and assault rifles." The orange light of the doctor's omnitool pierced even through her closed eyelids, sending her into hiding behind both arms.

"She complained of a headache and feeling like she was being watched while we were on Peak 15," Garrus offered. He stood next to the bed, his hand on the mattress so that Shepard could feel his talons just brushing the back of her head. "But it didn't get bad until she fell asleep in the Mako."

Shepard shuddered but kept her eyes squeezed shut just in case her eyeballs exploded out of their sockets, the danger seeming both imminent and plausible. What had Chakwas asked? Oh right . . . what happened that day. She was pretty sure she'd heard Garrus mention falling asleep in the Mako. "Terrible dream . . . no . . . memory. I heard the voice again. It said that I would reveal who I was. Then the shiny, tar-spiders started crawling through my brain. They kept pulling out memories."

She wriggled around until she flopped over onto her back. After another second, she returned to her side. "Sweet baby Jesus, there's nowhere that doesn't hurt. Tell me how to lie down so it doesn't hurt."

"You heard the voice again?" The doctor held the omnitool over Shepard's head, entering information. "What do you mean you heard it again?"

"On the . . . um . . . Citadel . . .." Shepard winced at the remembered agony, even thinking about it causing a new spike to drive into her skull. "Blackness. Cold. Something invaded me."

"We were in the Presidium Markets. Shepard stumbled a couple of times, just grabbed her head and fell onto her knees," Garrus spoke up. "When she got up, she wasn't Shepard. Martin, a kid who was with us, saw a dark energy . . . broadcasting through a wall into her head. The origin of the energy was a black orb about this big." His hand disappeared for a moment, but then returned, his talons stroking through her hair. "Shepard followed us, but she moved like a . . . one of those dolls with strings tied to their hands and feet. When she spoke, it wasn't her voice. I shot the thing, it blew up, and she came back . . . shaken up but herself."

The doctor grumbled under her breath and shook her head. "Why wasn't I told about this when it happened?" She entered information into her omnitool then held it above Shepard's head.

Shepard just moaned. Explaining would take too much effort, when the truth of the matter lay in the fact that she had so many other things to worry about. Once Anderson took the orb away, she assumed it would cease to be an issue. Apparently, she'd been wrong.

"Peak 15 was cleared out without any sign of violence against the workers," Garrus said. "They were just gone. Do you think there were more of those orbs through the facility?"

Shepard uncovered one eye to look up at him. "So they were all indoctrinated, and Saren just marched them out?" A faint nod sent a bolt of pain galloping through her skull. "That actually makes sense."

"Where is the orb now?" Chakwas asked, her voice diamond hard.

"Anderson is having it studied," Garrus answered.

"Go, contact him and tell him to send me everything he has on it," the doctor ordered. When Garrus hesitated, Shepard felt Chakwas push in against the side of the table. "Now, if you please, Officer Vakarian."

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Garrus said, squeezing Shepard's shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, affecting a confidence that betrayed her the moment his reassuring presence moved away from her back. She rolled over, her hand reaching out for him but finding only air. Her mouth opened, her lungs drawing the air to call him back, but then strong fingers closed on her reaching ones, and she felt Dr. Chakwas lean down.

"Shepard, open your eyes for a moment, and look at me."

After a moment, Shepard obeyed the order and uncovered her face, wincing in the face of the light drilling into her brain. "What's going on, Doc?"

The doctor shone a light into the captain's eyes, flicking it back and forth to test pupil reaction time that Shepard decided must be non-existent based on the drill that continued to burrow through to her optic nerves. "I didn't want Officer Vakarian hearing this." Chakwas sighed. "Do you remember how I said that Han'Gerrel's brain was badly damaged?"

Shepard closed her eyes, her bad news alarm flushing her veins with ice water. "You said he had about a year to live." The doctor hesitated long enough that Shepard opened her eyes and leaned up to meet Chakwas's stare. "Doc? You're freaking me out here."

Hard, strong fingers clamped down on Shepard's shoulder, startling her with their grip. "Good, Shepard, because whomever is behind this is using the mental equivalent of a crowbar to get at your long term memories. It doesn't look like they're trying to indoctrinate you yet, but they're certainly making a mess."

Shepard reached out, locking wrists with the doctor to pull herself up, the news breaking through the pain. "They're afraid of me; that much I got from their attacks. They're looking for weak spots." She frowned, her brows knitting, a bolt of pain and nausea striking between her eyes and sending electric fingers sizzling along her nerves into her sinuses. One hand pressed to her mouth, she held the other out, snapping her fingers until Dr. Chakwas thrust a sick bag into her hand. Dry heaving until her stomach muscles tied themselves into knots, she weaved, rocking unsteadily as her entire body begged to lie back down.

Once the abdominal charlie horses eased, Shepard decided that she could remain sitting up. "They're trying to decide whether I'm of sufficient use to indoctrinate, aren't they?" she asked, her voice coming out in a hoarse, acid-torched whisper. A parched chuckle limped along on its heels. "Either way, I'm screwed unless we find a way to prevent or treat the damage."

The doctor nodded, then spun toward her computer as it beeped. She hurried over, opening it up. "Good, Anderson has had a team tearing that thing apart. Not much to go on, though. Perhaps if we find an intact one . . .." She opened her omnitool. "I'll send them your scans. The data might be useful in their research."

Shepard stiffened, . "Um, Doc . . . do me a favour. Send them without naming me. I don't need the galaxy, especially the council, thinking that my brain is falling apart." She glanced back toward the door. Damn, if Chakwas had already received Anderson's information that placed Garrus moments from returning. "And, no one on the Normandy knows, Doc. I'll tell who I need to, when and if I need to. We keep this between us."

The doctor's face worked as she thought the request through. "Very well, Shepard, but I need to be able to tell Dr. Solus. He and I have been working with the scans and tests from the Feros colonists, Shiala, and Han'Gerrel. We've come up with a cocktail aimed toward stimulating the brain to produce more of the missing neurotransmitters as well as filling the gaps in the meantime." She moved to a refrigeration unit and began preparing a syringe. "That salarian's mind works faster than a supercomputer. I'm sure he'll have ideas for treating you." After another breath, the doctor turned to face Shepard, her expression almost . . . maternal. "And you need to tell Anderson. He doesn't deserve to be blindsided if we can't repair this."

Garrus walked in the door. He pressed a hand against Shepard's hip where the doctor wouldn't be able to see. "You feeling better?" he asked, his voice full of both worry and hope.

"She will be in a moment." Dr. Chakwas administered the injection. "Just relax here for a few minutes. Let me know if the pain eases." She returned to her computer. "Have you noticed emotional shifts, unusual smells?"

Shepard leaned back into Garrus's arm a little. "I don't recall any smells. I keep flipping back and forth between fear and anger, but considering the memories, they were both relevant. It got better once we got back to Port Hanshan." Raking her fingers through her hair, she took a breath, the pain in her head backing off a little. "I started remembering things that weren't as terrible. Anderson talking to me about moving on and doing my folks proud. Things like that."

"What memories did they pull forward?" Chakwas asked, looking up and holding Shepard in a frank stare that warned her without words to come clean and be honest.

She needn't have bothered. Shepard knew her life depended on it. A long, soft sigh accompanied a glance behind her at Garrus. The universe seemed determined to strip her naked in front of him no matter how hard she tried.

"Mindoir," she replied, her voice soft. "My dad sending me out into the forest, trying to save me when the slavers came. Getting caught . . . pretty much every evil thing they did over the next day. Then, later . . . when I was knifed in the fight with my dealer. Anderson visiting me in the hospital afterward."

The doctor sat down. Her strong, elegantly attractive features drew together in a thoughtful scowl. After a moment, she nodded. "Safe to say that they were memories that you've kept buried?"

Shepard knew the answer, but her sheer panic when she woke up confirmed it. Not to mention how the memories hadn't just played out in her head, but totally ripped her out of reality. "Yeah, I blocked them out. I had a story—all detached and detail-free—about what had happened to me, but the details . . .." She shook her head and raked her fingers through her hair again. "No details."

Dr. Chakwas nodded and typed into her computer for a moment. "How are you feeling? Is your headache easing up at all?"

The medication flowed through Shepard like a cool breeze, easing her neurons' searing complaints. "Yeah it is. Wow." She chuckled softly as the pressure diffused. "I feel like someone just cut the red wire."

"Good." Without looking up, the doctor asked, "How much else do you have planned for this evening, Shepard?"

"I need to tell Liara about her mother and get the rachni queen settled on the ship. Then I was planning on sleeping until 0745. I may or may not eat somewhere in there." Shepard rubbed her brow, her fingers massaging away a little more of the pressure. "You should do some scans of Matriarch Benezia if Liara is okay with it. She was indoctrinated, but managed to fight it off long enough to warn us."

Sliding slowly off the bed, Shepard tested out her legs. They'd ceased trembling and held her. The headache rumbled a little—distant thunder—but the invasive march of the greasy spiders had been halted. The relief provided by the basic privacy of being alone in her head felt glorious, curtains drawn over the windows of her glass house.

"Make that wake up 0645, Shepard. I want to see you before you do anything else." The doctor hesitated. "They're finding their way into your mind through these repressed memories, following them like a forgotten tunnel system. They're using the power of them against you. You've got to face them and close up as many avenues into your mind as you can."

"I'm sure that they could only wedge their way in because they had their orbs all through Peak 15 and probably Port Hanshan as well," Shepard argued.

"Even so, it's high time your past stopped holding so much power over you, don't you think?" Once again Chakwas levelled Shepard with a stare that said argument would prove useless or, worse, actually end up reinforcing the doctor's point.

"Very well, Doc. I'll drag myself out of bed an hour early, hung over and brain damaged." She raised a hand to her ear and called Nihlus to let him know she was on her way in to speak with Liara. Hanging up that call, she took a few ginger, tentative steps toward the back lab. She felt like a newborn foal trying to figure out how to use her own body, loose-jointed and foreign.

"I'd prefer you not spend any time alone until we find a way to control whatever they're doing to you, Captain," Dr. Chakwas spoke up, cutting Garrus off before he could get a word out. "I can count on you to keep an eye on her, Officer Vakarian?"

Shepard opened her mouth to declare herself more than capable of deciding who could keep any number of eyes on her, but Garrus jumped in to cut her off.

"Don't worry, Doctor. I'll—"

Nihlus walked in, earning a grateful smile for his timing.

"Excellent. Let's get this done." Shepard shoved her shoulder blades together until they cracked, then rolled her arms and neck a few times before approaching the door to the back lab.

Liara and Shiala both sat at a computer, working in silence when Shepard entered.

"Captain!" Liara jumped up and spun to face them. Her jaw dropped a little when she saw the three of them. "Um. Can I . . . I mean, can we help you?"

Shepard gestured for the asari to retake her seat. "Something happened on Noveria, Liara." She glanced at Shiala. "Do you . . . um . . . you might want some privacy for this." Shepard looked back at Garrus and nodded toward the door. He could wait for her outside and give Liara a smaller audience to her grief.

"I'd rather Shiala stay," Liara replied, sitting down and reaching out for the other asari's hand.

Shepard smiled, thin and tight-lipped, and sat on a crate. Nihlus hung back by the door, looking Spectre-ish and severe. "We found your mother on Peak 15. When we arrived, her commandos had sealed the central lab and fought to the last soul to keep the enemy from getting to her, but she was gravely injured. Still, she managed to keep herself alive until we got there. She told me to pass on a couple of messages."

Liara's face paled, her large blue eyes darkening with tears, but she remained composed and controlled. "Messages?" she asked, her voice taut.

Shepard nodded. "The first was that she loved you. You were . . . are her greatest joy, and she has always been proud of your independence and dedication."

The words elicited a tiny, gasped cry, "Oh, Mother."

Shepard's heart constricted as Liara's lips quivered then pressed together. The knuckles on the hand that held Shiala's paled as she tightened her grip.

Shepard leaned forward and placed a hand on Liara's knee: silent empathy. "The second was that you needed to go to Illium and speak to someone named Aethyta who is holding your legacy."

"Illium? My legacy?" Liara blinked rapidly, then frowned and shook her head. "I don't know anyone named Aethyta, why would my mother want me to go to her?" A sharp edge crept into her voice, piercing the controlled grief. "I don't understand. Why did she join Saren? Why was she trying to help the Reapers?"

Shepard gave Liara's knee a gentle squeeze, asking for her forbearance. "Your mother learned that the council and Saren were indoctrinated . . . being controlled by the Reapers and hoped to guide Saren along a less horrific path. Unfortunately, she underestimated Sovereign's strength and was indoctrinated herself." Shepard took a deep breath. "I think the important thing to remember is that in the end, she was strong enough to fight back. She died free, passing on the information we needed."

"She's still on . . . oh." Another small gasp escaped as she realized her mother's fate. Liara shrugged, trying to minimize the slip in her composure. "I forgot they destroyed Peak 15. I was going to ask . . .."

"Your mother's body is with Legion and our other guest, a rachni queen that your mother insisted we save. It's a long story, but your mother will be returned to you."

Liara nodded. "Illium . . .."

Shepard stood. "As soon as we're done with Wrex's mission tomorrow, we'll set course for Illium to find Aethyta."

Liara stood and held out her hand. "Thank you, Captain. Would you be willing . . .." Her voice broke, but she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "I mean, um . . . would you come with me to find Aethyta?"

Shepard offered her other arm, giving Liara a quick hug when the asari stepped forward. "Of course. Whatever you need, just ask." She squeezed Liara's hand. "We should be picking Legion and the queen up shortly, and I'll have Dr. Chakwas there to help you with any preparations you wish to make for your mother."

Liara nodded and stepped back, Shiala standing and wrapping an arm around her waist. Shepard smiled softly and nodded to them both before backing toward the door. "I'm very sorry for your loss. She was a remarkable, strong woman who loved you a great deal."

"Thank you, Captain." Liara crumpled into the chair, all her joints folding, a puppet whose strings of composed resolve all snapped at the same time. Shiala moved in to comfort her friend, so Shepard withdrew, herding Nihlus ahead of her.

"Captain Drunken Hard-Ass," Joker's voice came through on her radio, "we have clearance to leave."

Shepard ignored the snarkiness, not being able to blame him. She'd been a little more rough on him than she normally would. "Take us to Legion's coordinates, Joker. Coordinate with him. I want to get out of here as quickly and smoothly as possible."

"Aye, ma'am. Joker, out."

"He's pissed," Shepard said. She levelled a glare at Garrus. "Since you've apparently appointed yourself my babysitter, don't let me drink again. I hate the three days of apologizing that follows. Now, let's go welcome our newest guest."

(A-N: So sorry for the long delay and the lack-lustre nature of this chapter. I will revisit it and make it more readable at some point in the near future, but meanwhile, need to keep writing through my lack of writing confidence, so Onward Hooo! Thanks to the friends who help my words become less ugly, and you, the readers. All the love.)