Caman - Refers to both the central hearth of the domin and the kitchen area.

Buratrum - Turian equivalent of hell

Tarc - Vulgar expletive equivalent to shit

Perir - Turian equivalent of boy

Pahir - Son

Merillien - Tiny, scaled bird analogues prized for their intelligence and the beautiful scaled harmonies they sing.

Regil - Greeting friends or family outside the domin

Trigger Warning: Verbal child abuse, mention of physical child abuse, parental death.

36 Days ASR

Stripping her down past nudity, past skin, past muscle and sinew and bone, even past identity and self, the machine laid her bare. It tore away every comfortable hiding place and disguise … every lie and truth and belief until she stood naked, her essence vulnerable and open to the machine's scrutiny. Terror gnawed at what remained, for she knew herself trapped.

"You will provide data to answer the question." Emotionless and without the roaring malevolence of the previous voice—the one that called itself Harbinger—the machine's statement amounted to an examiner telling a class to pick up their number two pencils and begin.

What is the question?

I'm afraid.

Then she felt him there with her; his being as shorn and exposed as hers. Unable to distinguish his borders, she didn't know if she'd expressed the fear, or if it belonged to him. Perhaps it originated with both. The sensation of duality, of feeling his emotions and hearing his thoughts without the delineation … there were no words to describe the intimacy.

I'm sorry.

That thought belonged to him. Regret and guilt, his dearest companions, seeped through every moment of his life, his entire purpose aimed toward making up for his existence, as if his birth had tallied some debt he needed to repay.

For what could have been the barest fraction of a second or days, they waited, her being moving over and through his, silent and expectant. Then, as if someone poked a hole in the container that held them, they began to flow, oil and water dancing together. The stream carried them backwards, a river flowing uphill away from the ocean to its source.

…

A sliver of light under his door sliced across his talons as they peeked out from under his nightrobe. Huddling against the portal, he pressed his aural canal to the thin metal. The chill of midwinter crackled around him, sharp and damp, making it hard to keep still. He pulled the robe's collar tighter around his neck and wrapped his arms around his belly to hold in his meager heat.

He froze as the domin's front door opened, his mari's voice rising to drown out the door's closure. Too many rooms away to make out her words, he knew the tone all too well, shrill and filled with enraged accusation.

He pressed his eyes closed, straining to hear his pari's voice, one small comfort before he tried to sleep. His hand drifted up to touch the tender bruise that darkened his eye and ached under the plates surrounding it.

"... dealing with your son." The rant moved to the caman. "Don't make a mess in here, I already came home to broken glass everywhere."

Nihlus gulped back tears. He hadn't meant to break the plate. After he finished his schoolwork, he thought he'd surprise his mother by cleaning up the dishes. It just slipped from soapy talons. When those same talons touched his sore eye again, they came away wet. He just wanted to help.

"He's six. He's going to break things now and again."

"I work hard enough all day. I don't need to come home to his messes. You've got to get me off this filthy pit of a rock, Terrus!" His mari's voice ripped through the entire domin, its talons shredding everything it touched. He winced away from those knives even as they sliced into the soft center of him. "Every day, I tell you that I'm going mad trapped here, and I beg you to get me out of buratrum, and every day, all you give me is excuses. What happened to the proud warrior I bonded? That torin would never have dragged his mate to the end of the galaxy to die in some festering hole."

"Mallea," his pari's soft, resigned sigh cut deeper than his mari's raging, "you know I'd make half as much on Palaven. If we're prudent, by the time Nihlus is fifteen, we'll have enough set by to return so he can enter the academy."

"That mewling spawn of yours is the reason we don't even have enough to turn this tarc-riddled hovel into a decent domin." Venom dripped from every word, turning the air so toxic that Nihlus choked on it.

He jumped as something smashed into his door, crying out with the tiny, doomed squeal of a preteril in maraquil talons. He glanced toward the window, his flight response insisting that he run … get as far away as he could. All his carefully contained tears bullied their way out into the dark, rolling thick and heavy down his face. Curling in on himself, he knew he'd never run; he had nowhere to go. Besides, he couldn't leave his pari. Maybe if he became very small, she might forget he existed. Maybe then she wouldn't be so angry and mean.

"Nihlus is not to blame for your malcontent, Mallea. He's a good perir, and he's ours, not mine."

"Your golus forcing him into me and his forcing his way out does not make him my pahir."

His mari's words yanked out a whimpered keen. The sound echoed, too loud, and the angry words on the other side of the door stalled. Footsteps approached. He jumped up, ran two steps, and leaped onto the mattress, the stuffing of dry vetri pods crackling beneath his weight. Lying with his back to the door, he burrowed into his blankets.

That was when he saw it, a silver form standing next to his window. He sat up, ready to run for his pari, but then he stopped. Something about the being seeming very familiar, like a rock or tree that you walk by every day, but never really look at. Then, one day you look and can't remember if is new or been there the whole time. The light from the moons glowed off the being's skin, pale and glistening like the scales of his pet merillien, Itia. In the corner, the tiny avian trilled a welcome as the door opened and his pari stepped through.

"What are you still doing awake, Nihlus?" His pari crossed the floor, the torin's tread slow and uneven. "You should have been asleep hours ago."

When his pari stopped next to the bed, Nihlus turned and looked up. "I can't sleep." His mandibles flicked in a hopeful smile. "Will you stay with me?"

"I can't, you know how your mari is." Gentle talons touched his brow, easing him down onto his pillows. "Just close your eyes; you'll drift off before you know it." His pari smiled and straightened. "I'll see you in the morning. We have a big day tomorrow. Derrios said he'd pay you for every nugget you find, remember?"

He nodded and watched after his pari, slow tears still rolling down his face. He knew his pari loved him, but in the gloom behind the closed door, the old longing grew. He waited a few seconds to be sure the door was staying shut then sat up and looked toward the window. The silver being remained, unmoving and oddly comforting. Hope and awe … and a little fear wriggled through him, all fighting to be the first in line.

"Regil?" He winced at the way his whispered greeting seemed to explode through the silence. Disobedience would summon his mari, and where his pari touched, his mari hit.

As if summoned, his mari began to shout again. He held his breath, waiting, but she remained on the other side of the door. That threat vanishing, he fixed his attention on the wondrous being. It stood next to the shelving unit that held his meager but much-loved collection of toys, staying so still that it looked like a large doll.

Then it spoke, shattering the illusion. "Hello." The being's lips curled, and it showed its teeth, contradicting the gentleness of its voice. It stepped toward him, hands reaching out when he winced away from it, his fear winning. "It's all right. I'm a friend. I won't hurt you."

He frowned a little. The being's voice sounded flat and feminine, like the asari he'd seen in vids. Also like an asari, its hand had five talons but small and blunt. "What are you?" he asked, curiosity pushing its way into the fray.

It showed its teeth again, but that time, the display didn't worry him. It … she smiled like the asari as well. She took another step, the smile widening. "Hello, Nihlus."

He straightened, but frowned. How did she know his name? "Can you hear thoughts?" That idea made his belly flop. What if she did? Could she see the terrible ugliness that made him so unlovable? Surely someone so beautiful would find him ugly and hateful.

Instead, she shook her head. "No." She walked over to the side of his bed and bent down, gentle fingers touching his cheek. "Your pari called you by name." Gesturing toward his bed, she asked, "May I sit?"

Heat crept up his neck, making him grateful for the darkness as he nodded, his heart pounding against his keel. Now, she'd think him stupid. Of course she'd just heard his name. His mari was right. He was a stupid little perir.

"Thank you." Another smile flashed her teeth. "You're a very brave young fellow. I don't think I'd be as brave as you if a strange-looking alien just showed up in my bedroom in the middle of the night." She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, the contact gentle. "Now, to answer your question, I'm a female human. You won't see any more of my people for a few cycles yet. We're just starting to explore space."

"Are you real?" The moment he blurted out the question, he longed to pull it back in. If she didn't think him a stupid baby before, asking things like that would change her mind.

"As real as you," she said, her voice reassuring. She looked toward the door as the shouting grew more shrill and something else crashed. "That's quite the fuss."

He nodded, his stare leaving her face, falling to his blankets. "It's because of me." A soft keen drifted beneath his words, the tears starting again. "I ruin everything."

"Now, how could someone so small and so brave ruin anything at all?" Her finger lifted his chin until he looked into her eyes once more. "I don't believe it. In fact, you know what? I think, one day, you're going to do great things." She gripped his shoulders in her hands. "May I give you a hug?"

Brow plates pulling down low, he frowned at her. "Hug?" he asked, drawing back a little. "Will it hurt?"

Her strange, soft face smiled at him again. "No, it won't hurt at all. It's how my people comfort one another and show friendship and affection."

The old longing sang, a brilliant cascade of joy and hope and colour. Normally, he avoided strangers, but something about this spirit told him she wasn't a stranger … as if she'd been by his side his entire life. And so he nodded and cleared his throat, making sure none of his excitement escaped. "Okay."

She pulled him in close against her body and wrapped gentle arms around him. "There, see. Doesn't hurt at all." She rocked him a little. "Shush now. No more tears."

For a second, he froze, unsure about the closeness of the contact or the tightness of her grip on him. Then her warmth began to soak through his nightclothes and into his plates. Tentative, he reciprocated the embrace, slipping his arms around her and relaxing into her softness. The tears dried from his face as he rested his cheek against her arm.

"She hates me," he whispered, trying not to let the tears start again. If he cried, she might pull away. The old longing had finally discovered a name and satisfaction, and he didn't want to lose it so soon.

Her grip on him tightened a little, allowing him to snuggle in closer. "She doesn't hate you, sweetie." Her sigh brushed over his fringe. "Have you ever been so unhappy that you just needed to blame something for it, even if it wasn't actually to blame?"

He thought about that for a second, then shook his head. "I'm six."

She chuckled, the sound as bright as sunshine as it warmed him all the way through. His mandibles fluttered in an eager, astonished smile; how had someone so … his vocabulary failed him … how had someone like her found him?

She rubbed his back. "You're very cheeky for someone so small. I like it."

He giggled, wriggling a little as she tickled his side.

Letting out a long breath, she hugged him tight. "Your mari is just unhappy, Nihlus, and it doesn't really have anything to do with you or your pari." He relaxed into her, a new and precious seed sprouting inside him. As her hand rubbed gentle circles on his cowl, he felt the sprout start to grow … pretty, but too new to name. Her cheek pressed to the top of his head, tussat-soft. "Just try to remember that under all that unhappiness, she loves you. She just doesn't know how to show it." Her hands slipped to his shoulders and eased him away until their eyes met in the dark. "Okay?"

"Okay." He snatched for her hand as she stood. No! She couldn't leave. It was too soon. Too soon for her to take away her soft comfort and gentle hands. "Please. Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

She smiled and sank back. He grinned as his bed shifted, the stuffing crackling under her weight. Settling in, she said, "Okay. Lie down, get all tucked in." Humming softly, she nodded for him to pull his blankets up to his chin. "Close your eyes."

Doing as she said, he snuggled down into the warmth of his bed, mandibles fluttering happily as he gripped her hand tight and listened to the strange, pretty sound of her voice. "What's your name?" he whispered.

"I'm Jane." Her other hand brushed his cheek, her voice lilting, not at all stern as she said, "Now go to sleep."

Nihlus opened one eye. "Will I see you again?"

She nodded and leaned down, pressing her mouth to his brow. "We're going to be great friends." Laughing, she tapped the end of his nose with a fingertip. "Sleep! You heard your pari … big day tomorrow."

He smiled, certain that he'd never be able to fall asleep. Not with so many questions left to ask. Would he truly see her the next day? Dare he wish that they'd be friends, he and this gentle, alien spirit?

…

Their memories danced, swirling and weaving into one another. Shepard resolved to remain in the shadows and not to intrude upon Nihlus's privacy. However, watching that beautiful child starve to death for want of comfort—even a scrap of contact—proved too much for her heart and she stepped out of the shadows. Once she'd looked deeply into those sad, green eyes, she had little choice but to keep her hand wrapped tightly around his through the cycles.

"Anomaly detected. Data corrupted. Partition and upload to primary mainframe for further study."

The machine's voice shattered whatever kept the analytical part of their minds locked down. Freed, the entity that was Shepard and Nihlus's combined minds set to the task of finding a way out. The only thing they could think of was finding an answer to the question. Of course, that necessitated finding out what the damned question was. Perhaps the only way to discover the question was to extrapolate it from the answers … the data.

The data! Data was corrupted. Of course it was corrupted. They doubted that the machine had been programmed to deal with more than one subject at a time. It was the beacon all over again.

In case of capture and pending disintegration, break glass. Go, Nihlus, you sledgehammer.

But the machine held hundreds of thousands of entries on asari subjects, but never any other race. What could the machine possibly gain from analyzing the two of them? Unless of course, the question was broader rather than species specific, and the data related to that lie elsewhere … in this primary mainframe.

Their thoughts raced. At the speed the machine was going through their memories, they could have mere seconds before the process moved on to their cognitive selves, or turning their bodies into paste.

Think, dammit, think. Two heads are supposed to be better than one.

...

Rain pissed down so thick Nihlus could barely see the entrance to the mine thirty metres away. The downpour had soaked him to the hide three steps from the school door, drenching him in freezing cold misery … the soul of that damned rock made manifest. As if he needed a more visceral reminder than the grim, drawn ugliness of his mother's rage, unabated day in and day out over the cycles.

And now … .

Yanking him from his schoolwork as the mine's siren blared, panic had thrown him across the settlement at a dead sprint. When he arrived and tried to enter—he needed to get in there, needed to help—the mine foreman and his pari's best friend had wrestled him to the ground, trying to explain what happened to ears deafened by pain.

And now, the chill, desolate rain flowed in rivers between his plates and cut canyons through the mud squelching between his talons. Some small, sensical part of his brain told him to get under shelter, but the rage and agony roared so much louder, drowning out every thought but one. He stared down the slope of dank, greasy sludge without blinking. His eyes burned, blind to everything but the flapping tail of the emergency tape, brilliant crimson against the grey.

Why him? Why the only person who has ever loved me?

She approached. Of course she did.

One of the two people who have ever loved me.

Over the cycles, she'd never failed him. Too bad that devotion hadn't extended to his pari. Would it have broken some immutable law of the tarc-infested universe for her to have warned Terrus Kryik that he was about to leave his pahir alone?

Feeling her walking up behind him, he closed his eyes and walled up his anger. Someone deserved to feel its lash, but not her. She moved silently, but after nearly ten cycles of her presence, he always knew when she drew near, her energy as familiar to him as his own.

"They're trying to dig my pari out," he said, keeping his voice too soft to be heard over the rain. Nonetheless, he knew she heard him. A keen of combined rage and sorrow spooled in his throat, a ball of razor wire threatening to explode and rip him to shreds. "His machine malfunctioned and brought down a support." He turned to look into her eyes, seeing an echo of his grief mirrored in her red, glistening gaze. Tears traced shining paths over her pale skin. He looked back at the entrance to the mine. "At least, that's what the foreman said."

Her hand slipped into his, dry and warm, the rain not touching her. For a moment, his anger struck out again. Why didn't anything touch her? Why did she get to sail above the horror and ugliness of life while it swallowed him whole?

She spoke, the love resonating through her voice tempering his resentment. "I'm so sorry, Nihlus. I know how much you loved him, and I know that you were his whole world." She squeezed his fingers, then released him and held out her arms.

Shaking his head, he backed away, talons slipping in the greasy mud. Shame and guilt ripped through him at her words, their truth the cruelest wound. He didn't deserve her love or comfort. "I treated him like such tarc this last cycle," he shouted, spewing a massive abscess that dripped agony like pus. His keen escaped, riding his self-loathing to freedom. "I was embarrassed of my crippled pari … didn't speak to him any more." He swallowed, another keen breaking loose. "I pretended not to know him in public." Slamming a fist into his keel, he spun away from her. "So lautus and arrogant."

She wrapped her arms around him, tugging him into her embrace. "You're fourteen and trying to figure out who you are. Don't be too hard on yourself, Nihlus. Your pari understood, and he knew you loved him. He did." When he tried to pull away, she just gripped him tighter.

Unlike when she'd held him even a cycle before, he towered more than a head taller and had to bend down to return the embrace. "I did," he whispered, turning his face into the curve of her neck. "I do." He gripped her tight. "Please tell me they'll get him out."

She just kissed his cheek. "You'll be okay, no matter what. You're strong, and you'll be okay."

Silent tears soaked her shoulder. Strange how his tears touched her where the rain and mud didn't. The fact that they did and that he felt her tears cool and wet against his hide helped ease the pain enough that he pulled away. Sucking in deep breaths, her arm tight and warm around his waist, he waited, shoring himself up against the inevitable. She wouldn't leave him. No matter what came, he knew that she'd stick with him and somehow, with her arms around him, he'd pull through.

Before the foreman even made it up the hill, the mud rose up to smack Nihlus in the knees, the look on the torin's face telling the horrible truth. Jane knelt next to him, her arms wrapped around his neck as the foreman explained that he'd never get a chance to right all the wrongs he'd committed against the torin who'd given him life.

"Come and get dry," Jane said, her voice soft. She pressed her cheek against his. "They said it will be hours yet." When he just shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, she sighed. "Stop punishing yourself for things that aren't your fault, Nihlus."

He pulled away, but she grasped his face between her hands and forced him to meet her gaze. "Would your pari want this? Would he want you out here sitting in the freezing cold mud ripping yourself to shreds?"

Letting out a long sigh, he slumped and shook his head. "That's not fair."

"Yeah." She shrugged. "But not much about love is." She gathered him back into her arms. "Remember the love, Nihlus, and let the rest go. That is what will truly honour the torin he was. He wanted the best for you. Now it's up to you to make sure he gets what he wants." She released him and stood, reaching a hand down to help him up. "Come on. As soon as you're dry and warm, we'll come back and wait in the crew house."

When he took her hand, Nihlus pressed her palm against his mandible. "Thank you," he said, layering everything she meant to him through his subvocals.

As he knew she would, Jane stayed pressed to his side when the miners pulled his father out of the rubble, at the funeral, and through the terrible days and weeks that followed. His mother withdrew him from classes, and he took his father's shift in the mine, but digging by hand. Jane stayed with him even there, and he thanked the universe for that tiny, brilliant diamond of a miracle shining amidst the tarc.

…

Shepard and Nihlus lunged up out of the young torin's grief like drowning swimmers clawing at the surface, inhaling as much water as air. As they struggled to break free, to apply reason through the deluge of emotion, the dim light of a pattern began to glimmer.

The machine hadn't started breaking them down physically, and the fact the logical cognitive processes had been locked down suggested that they didn't hold immediate interest. Instead, the machine had gone straight for their memories. Why their memories? The day to day, even the gruesome, exhilarating and tragic events were just moments in time. Unless they weren't after the memories for their own sake, but rather for their emotional content.

You never truly know someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes?

… or a lifetime. Suddenly, what the Reapers may have needed from Tashac became clearer: the prothean ability to impart their entire self through touch and to read others the same way. The Collectors on Ilos had also hooked into Vigil. Perhaps they'd been seeking more than a way to transmit the Conduit's location.

And Saren gathering up the beacons perhaps as much for what they contained as for clues to the Conduit. He'd also needed the Thorian to get the cipher, but what if there was more to melding with the Thorian than that? It was a sapient plant … a completely unique life form as far as they knew. Had the indoctrinated Spectre also been trying to solve this question?

Okay, rein it in … we're getting overexcited and ahead of ourselves.

Right, so what did the machine want to see in their pasts? She'd witnessed Nihlus's first six years in a quick flash of perception, but the machine didn't pause to examine anything until the night he huddled next to his bedroom door, listening to his mother blame him for her misery. Something in that child and his loneliness, his fear and guilt, his aching for connection called to the computer's programming just as it had called to her.

And then, the machine had paused on the death of Nihlus's father, his only tie to love, his anchor. As his loneliness had, his grief … the horrible grief and emptiness, darker even than the vacuum between stars, called to Shepard, insisting that she remain at his side as he moved from perir to torin.

Secondary data recorded. File: Compassion. Filter appropriately. Send data directly to primary mainframe.

...

Jane swiped the rain and tears from her eyes and looked up at the sky. The clouds darkened toward black, the weight of the huge, angry sky pressing down to squash her the way Bradley Buckler crushed ants under rocks. Sniffing back a head full of snot, she bullied her frightened tears into submission, hoisted her small backpack a little higher, and pressed on. She'd just turned seven, far too big to snivel like a baby just because she was lost. Instead of crying, she needed to find somewhere out of the rain and wait for her parents to come looking for her.

"Go to the woods. There are some big pine trees just at the edge."

Spinning around, Jane searched for the source of the familiar voice, not surprised when she didn't see anyone. Her friend didn't always show himself, blending into the shadows or the rain like a ghost. He wasn't a ghost, though. Even though he looked a little strange, mostly invisible most of the time, and when he wasn't, he looked like the aliens in the vids, he wasn't scary at all. In fact, she knew the baby Jesus had sent him to look after her like in the bible stories her mother read to her. He even had wings, although his were painted not feathers, and on his face rather than on his back like regular angels.

"Where are you?" Clutching her jacket tight around her, Jane obeyed the voice. She couldn't stop shivering, and her teeth sounded like the wind up ones in the cartoons. That meant she needed to get dry and keep warm. Daddy had taught her that when they went camping. Hippo … term … something.

"I'm right here," her friend said, his voice close, but muffled by the rain pounding off the hood of her jacket. "And the forest is just at the top of the hill."

Jane dug back into the climb, the slope so steep and slick that she needed to scramble up on all fours. As she climbed, her backpack slipped around to smack her in the head, first one side then the other. Finally, panting for breath and covered in mud, she reached the top of the hill and turned to look over the valley.

Once she realized that she was lost, she decided to climb the biggest hill she could find hoping to see the castle where she'd lost her parents. It had taken her too long to climb, though, and it was so dark that she couldn't even see the sheep grazing along the slope.

"Go on, get to the forest. It's too dark to find your way back now. It was a smart plan, though. Good thinking. You paid attention to all those lessons your father taught you."

She nodded. "Daddy's lessons are fun." As much as she trusted her invisible friend, when she turned to look at the black mass of trees, her guts gave out. It would be so dark and scary in there, and all she had was the little keychain flashlight hanging from her jacket zipper. She'd never been to Earth before; what if ferocious animals lurked in the trees? Scratching her backside—stupid wet, itchy underwear—she backed away a few steps. Despite being too old to believe in fairy tales and monsters, she'd heard an old man at the last castle telling stories about all sorts of monsters and strange creatures that haunted places like that. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and he said people went in and never came out.

"I don't want to go in there, it's too dark," she whispered, her heart fluttering like the wings of the hummingbird who ate from the feeder in her window. "I want Daddy. Please help me find my daddy." Tears sprang into her eyes again, and that time, she let them fall. No one could see them in the rain. "I want to go home."

"I know you're scared, Janey, and I promise that I'll get you back to your daddy, but for now, we need to get you dry and warm." A big, warm hand closed around hers.

Jane's heart leaped into her throat, forcing out a bleat of fear. Scrambling backwards, she looked up … so far up. When she recognized the face with its white wings, she let out a growl of combined terror and embarrassment. "Nihlus! You scared me!" She punched his leg. "Big dummy."

When he chuckled and crouched down, she let out a jittery sigh and smiled, a slow grin of relief. She'd be okay now. Nihlus would look after her. He always had, all the way back to when he sat beside her crib, rubbing her back and telling her stories when she was sick. She didn't remember what the stories were about, but she remembered how safe she'd felt.

He reached up to brush her cheek with a knuckle, then offered his arms for a hug, his body solidifying next to her. "I'm sorry, I forgot I'm hard to see in the rain." He smiled as she stepped into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck. "That's better. Don't worry, I'll stay with you, and once you've stopped shivering, we'll get you back to your parents." His arms held her tight, strong and warm.

Pushing her back, he held her at arm's length, his smile as warm as his hug. "You've been very brave and doing all the right things. Your daddy will be very proud. Can you be brave for a little while longer?"

Jane swallowed her tears and nodded. She was very brave. Daddy told her that all the time. Too brave, he teased when she got herself into trouble.

"Good." Nihlus took her hand again, her fingers so very small engulfed in his long talons. "Your parents and about half the county are searching for you, but you're too cold to walk that far." Straightening, he turned toward the forest, tugging gently on her hand.

"Daddy's going to be mad. He told me not to wander off." As her imagination formed the image of her mother's anger, she let out a long sigh. She probably wouldn't be allowed to leave her room for the rest of forever. "I'll never be bad again."

Looking down at her, Nihlus grinned, his mandibles flicking hard. "I sure hope that's not true." He tugged her in close and wrapped his arm around her, his hand almost as wide as her back. She leaned in close; he was so warm! "You didn't mean to get lost, did you?"

Jane shook her head, eyes wide as she stared up at him. He had to believe her. She really hadn't meant to be bad at all. "I didn't, honest. I went to look at the sheep. The lambs were so cute and wanted to play tag. I only played with them for a few minutes, and then I heard Daddy calling me, but I couldn't find my way back. It sounded like his voice was everywhere."

He nodded and shrugged. "Then, there's nothing to be sorry for, is there? Your parents will understand."

"Mother will be mad. She said that I've been nothing but trouble since we got here." She sighed and slumped along beside him. New tears fell in anticipation of her mother's scolding. "She said I'm an … ungrateful wretch, and a good girl would stand still and pay attention. But I can't help it. I try, but all we do is stand and stare at paintings while Mother talks about them."

Nihlus chuckled, lowering his voice to a secret whisper as he said, "I was falling asleep standing up ten minutes after we got to the first gallery." He squeezed her a little closer. "And you did an excellent dramatic reenactment of a starving child dying in the hallway on the way to breakfast this morning."

Jane wailed a little as she exclaimed, "Yesterday, my eggs were covered in slime and stared at me. And the peanut butter is all gritty and has oil on the top. Gross." She wiped her face again and sniffed. "You don't think I'm bad?"

"Oh, you're definitely bad, but almost all the really interesting people I know are at least a little bad some of the time." He stopped, and Jane looked up at the biggest pine tree she'd ever seen.

"This would make the most beautiful Christmas tree," she whispered, awe squeezing the words as they came out of her throat. When Nihlus pulled aside some of the branches, she ducked down and crawled into the dry little fort around the trunk. For a moment, she just clicked on her flashlight and sat there, savouring the respite from the rain, but then Nihlus crawled under, and she moved aside, making room.

"Okay," he said once he got settled, sitting cross-legged in the soft carpet of needles, "Let's get you out of as many wet layers as we can." He helped her wriggle out of her backpack, then with the tie and zipper on her jacket. He looked inside the jacket. "Soaked through." He hung it from a branch then nodded toward her backpack. "Let's see if your mother was her usual, thorough self when she packed that bag of yours."

Jane wrestled with the buckles for a moment, but her hands were frozen stiff. Nihlus took them between both of his and held them to his mouth, blowing on them until they warmed up. "Thank you," she squeaked and then opened the buckles and zipper. A sweater sat on top, then jeans, and a shirt, then two pairs of underwear and socks on the bottom along with a couple of fruit filled snack bars and a bottle of water.

"When you get back to your mother, you are going to give her a hug and thank her for taking such good care of you." He held up her jacket to act as a curtain while she wriggled out of her wet clothes and replaced them with the dry ones. When she was done, he held out his arms, inviting her onto his lap. "Best way to get warm is to snuggle."

Jane grinned and curled up in his arms, her tiny flashlight illuminating their snug little shelter. He draped her sweater over her like a blanket, then wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. As her guardian angel's heat began to seep through her clothing, she sighed and closed her eyes. "Will you tell me a story like you used to when I was little?"

Nihlus gave her a squeeze. "To me, you're still little. I can fit all of you in my arms. But … " His chuckle brightened the shelter more than her light and made it feel both safe and cozy. "... I will tell you a story. Do you remember the story of Callor the Wise?"

"Nope." Jane curled in tight, her head cradled inside his cowl as she tucked it under his jaw. She snuggled into him, completely content and safe. "Thank you for finding me," she whispered, a huge yawn following the words.

Nihlus nuzzled the top of her head, his strange version of a kiss making her giggle. "I'll always find you, and I'll always protect you the very best I can," he promised in a soft whisper. "It doesn't matter how lost you get or how big a fight you face, I'll never leave your side, haksaya kubenar."

Jane looked up through slitted eyes, giving him a sleepy smile. "That's pretty. What does it mean?"

"It means, 'my strong, true heart'." He nuzzled her again. "Close your eyes. Stories are always better with your eyes closed. When you wake up, your parents will be here."

Even as Jane began to drift off, she whispered, "I love you, Nihlus. I'm glad the baby Jesus sent you to be my guardian angel."

A rough cheek brushed her hair. "I love you, too. Now, do you want this story or not?"

...

Compassion as secondary data. That seemed to confirm their theory.

But why had the machine flagged Shepard's memory of being lost? Certainly, Shepard had been afraid, but her father had taught her well, and her mother always packed her backpack with emergency supplies. Jane had climbed the hill, crawled under the tree, changed and buried herself in a thick pile of needles to keep warm. She'd suffered through more frightening moments even as a young child.

So why that memory? Maybe it wasn't about Shepard. They were both caught in the machine, both being dismantled from the soul out, their memories and emotions as tangled as their thoughts. Perhaps the machine wanted to test something else. But that meant … the computer and machine weren't just about data collection. An intelligence lay behind it capable of running experiments on its specimens and changing the conditions.

And if that was the case, their captor had chosen that memory to test Nihlus's reaction.

As if answering the question, the computer intoned, "Altering input parameters to test viability: dual subjects. Accepting new data. Hypothesis uploaded to primary mainframe for analysis."

Fear exploded from them both, flaring bright and needle sharp for a second before cooling into anger and solidifying into resolve.

We aren't lab rats, you bastards. You'll discover that soon enough.

(A-N: We're baaaack. This was originally a much longer chapter, but I figured 12K was pushing the long chapter thing, so the second half will post on Thursday. Thanks so much for your patience while I took some time to make sure I had my ducks in a row. They are still running everywhere, but I have a better handle on them now. Thanks as always for reading. Didn't hear from many people (the regulars) last chapter, so ... if you missed it ... there is another chapter before this one! *hugs to all* )