Disclaimer: Everything recognisable is Bioware's. Everything else is mine.
A/N: Welcome all to chapter 6. Oddly, I feel like I need to apologise for the length of this chapter. It's the longest yet, and will, if all goes to plan, be the longest ever. I promise and swear. It's written from a variety of points of view, each of which has its own section. All of the sections build on each other, and run chronologically, so if you'd prefer to take a couple at a time between tea/coffee/beverage breaks (that's how I proofread it) please do :-)
A quick, spoiler free, important note on pronunciation here!
The 'Ll' in the Turian's name is pronounced as it is in Welsh. You'll know who I mean when you see it, and there's a little note at the end of the chapter if you find it a mouthful.
Oh! I know I wrote in my endnote in the last chapter that the second lady Drell of the series would be making an appearance here. As it happens, both of them cropped up as I was writing :-)
Comments, thoughts, ideas and conjecture are always cherished.
Yours faithfully,
L.G
The Return
A busy morning told from the perspectives of many, ends in a meeting that has been planned for days
Shift-change at the Zakera Ward branch of Citadel Security ran like clockwork. With districts like Shin Akiba, it had to. If it didn't -if there were parts of the day when patrols got light or desk-work got sloppy - it'd be easy for those of a nefarious bent to turn the situation to their advantage and cause all manner of havoc.
A resolute member of the morning shift set, Kolyat Krios had just made it to work. Dressed in his uniform blues and carrying a small rucksack containing his workday effects, he strode through the precinct's public areas on his way to the admin-wing. According to his Omni-tool he was an hour early, but that didn't matter to him. Early starts made it less likely that he'd end up distracted by the comings and goings of people he knew from his regular shift, and that meant he could get through another section of the paperwork-debt he owed Commander Bailey in peace. He'd incurred it in return for a single-use six hour leave slot that he would use, when needed, to visit his father at Huerta.
Well…that's what he'd told Bailey at least.
Much as he didn't like doing it, the need to fib in this instance was clear. If he'd been honest about his purpose - seeking out Shepard - his CO would have tried to stop him, and that simply wasn't an option at this point in time.
After sliding his ID through the security point at the entrance to the administrative areas of the station, Kolyat shouldered the door open, took a sharp left and entered the cavernous main office. It was a sterile space, lit by rows of fluorescent white cat's-eye lights that were set into the ceiling. Its walls and floor were distinguishable only by a fractional variation in their respective shades of grey, and between the still air and a relatively crisp 16°C ambient temperature, the place was more or less a recipe for discomfort for any Drell who lingered there too long.
Being ectothermic to a large extent, it was a trial getting through a shift without either having five small meals, or spending one's lunch hour sitting surreptitiously close to the radiator in the canteen.
Within this intrinsically uncomfortable area, a rabbit's warren of cubicles sprawled in regimented rows from wall to wall. Scuttlebutt said that Bailey gave the most sort-after ones - those closest to the coffee machine and the exit - to his 'favourites', but practice, in Kolyat's opinion, exposed that as bullshit. As far as he knew, the Commander held him in no special regard, yet his workspace was within ten feet of the coveted caff dispenser.
Go figure.
As all non-commissioned hands did, Kolyat shared his space with an officer that Bailey had paired him with during his formative days in the division. He hadn't liked the idea at first, being a rather private creature who only played well with others when the mood took him, but it had grown on him with time. He still winced at the memory of meeting his 'partner' though. Gods it was painful.
-I stand with Bailey in the lobby, waiting my turn to be paired off with an officer. One approaches when the Commander waves him over. He is a Turian, silver armoured and scarcely tattooed, his mandibles fluttering faintly in either amusement or greetings.
'I'm Lleuus Tahl' he says, holding a talon out to me as I struggle to pronounce his name. After three attempts..a nightmare for any Drell who was raised, as I was, in the Hanar tradition of assigning importance to both the sharing and understanding of names..the closest I can muster to anything correct is 'Hle-uss'.
He chuckles quietly at my effort. 'Call me Ollie, please..' he says, shaking my hand firmly. 'Everyone else does. I haven't met a single non-Turian who got my full name right the first time, so don't worry. You're not alone. Welcome to the force, partner.'-
Though the memory left his throat flushed with embarrassment, Kolyat couldn't deny that knowing Ollie had been, and continued to be, a perk of his job at C-Sec. Despite the fact that the Turian had his commission, and therefore technically outranked him, he wasn't in the strictest sense his boss. He was more like a mentor; someone who showed him the ropes, and acted as his first port of call if he had a problem.
Having worked with him for almost a year now, Kolyat knew him to be an upstanding, right-before-easy kind of guy who, while meticulous and careful, had a distinct propensity to spend most of his on duty hours bemoaning the fact that his mate was working as the envoy of some general or other in a far-flung part of Turian space.
Sahlyihree this.. ..Sahlyihree that..
It was almost as maddening to listen to as his father's backwards logic was to decode.
Taking a left, then a right through the cubicles, Kolyat made it to that which he shared with Ollie, sat his rucksack on his table and shuffled the metric fucktonne of paperwork that'd landed on it in his absence into his 'To do' tray so he could get at his terminal. After giving the [On] button a tap to wake the machine up, he pulled up his chair before it, settled with a huff, and resigning himself to another day of chilled extremities, mindless report writing, and spending his afternoon making himself useful in the customs department as he waited for word of the Normandy's arrival.
That last activity had become something of a preoccupation of his as the eight days his father had told him would pass before the ship returned counted down. Every afternoon for the past four he'd made it his business to help out and listen, hoping for a whisper, an indication, that it might be arriving imminently. It was a horrifically tiresome way of keeping his ear to the ground, but it was all he could do. He had nothing like the level of clearance he'd need to track the ship's movements through official means, and as for working with Scalia any more than he already had in procuring its last departure date…
Kolyat shuddered faintly at the thought.
It wasn't that she'd done a bad job. Not at all. On the contrary in fact. When he'd returned to the precinct after calling her for assistance, she'd been waiting for him with the data he needed. With it though he got four dozen questions, a small lecture on how, in this case at least, using a legal means (her administrative access to Citadel Control's records) to facilitate something illegal (telling him what she'd seen in said records) made doing the illegal thing feel less bad, and three hours…yes…three...solid…hours of wheedling.
Goddess the was woman curious!
In the end he'd felt so cornered that he 'came clean' and told her why he wanted the information he'd asked for. What he'd said -
..'A friend of mine..Nick's his name..is serving on the ship. I saw him when I visited my father in the hospital earlier today. He was getting patched up before heading out again, and couldn't stay long, but he told me that he'd be back after an eight day voyage. I want to go and meet him on the dock'..
- was utter bullshit outside of the timescale of course, but it'd pacified her and kept her from figuring out his true purpose.
That was enough for him.
Turning his thoughts from his gregarious associate and the limited chances his current method of tracking the Normandy had of actually working, Kolyat logged in to his terminal, turned to his rucksack as his desktop loaded, and unpacked the flask of hot broth he'd brought in to sip at until he could head to the canteen for lunch.
Dwelling on things would get him nowhere.
All he could do now was get on with his day and hope that, with his limited means, he could catch the Commander in time to speak to her.
Dressed in her best off duty garb and nursing a powerful headache, Shepard strode into the Normandy's medical bay and winced slightly at the harsh lights. "Ok doc" she greeted, giving Chakwas a wave and a smile that was more grimace than grin. "What's the plan for today? We all set?"
The doctor, who had been packing a shoulder bag for the day, looked up as her guest came in and swallowed back a snicker at the expression on her face. EDI's get-together had been a roaring success last night, but the Commander had clearly over-compensated when it came to imbibing. Pitying the woman and her untrained liver, Chakwas tossed her a couple of aspirin before putting a notepad into her bag and starting on her questions.
"That we are ma'm. I've been in contact with Thane's chief physician over the past few days, Pyral is his name, and we've agreed on an informal schedule that will get us, and Sere Krios, through the day as smoothly as possible."
The Commander perked up at the mention of her mate's name. They had exchanged brief messages over the AICS earlier in the morning before agreeing to precautionary radio-silence, but outside of telling her that his chief physician - who she now knew to be this Pyral chap - had made him aware that Doctor Chakwas was expected at Huerta today, and confirming that she too would arrive before he was discharged, very few details had been shared.
Eager to learn more about how the day would unfold, Shepard strolled over to the doctor's desk and propped herself against it carefully to watch her pack. "You're leaving for Huerta as soon as we dock?" she asked, swallowing the pills she'd been given without need of water and watching a book and three pens disappear into her counterpart's bag as she nodded.
"I will be, yes" Karin confirmed, giving the Commander a smile before leaning down and pulling open the nearest file-draw. "Since I've never provided the specific treatments Thane receives as part of his regimen before, Doctor Pyral, myself and likely one or two of his other physicians will spend the morning going through them, as well as his case history and other associated notes. It'll be quite the full day for everyone involved" she mused as she rummaged. "And for Thane too, I'd imagine."
Shepard frowned; a faint whisper of concern prompting her to ask, "Why's that? He's been cleared to leave already...right?"
"Oh yes of course" Chakwas soothed, selecting a file and squirreling it into her bag before kicking the draw closed and turning back to her visitor. "But since his health has changed so dramatically, and in such a singular way thanks to Professor Solus's treatments, his physicians will want to perform a final set of physical examinations to make doubly sure that they have accurate, up-to-date data on his condition to add to the records I'll receive when he leaves. According to Doctor Pyral, everyone who worked on his case is in raptures over his progress, and all of them, all eight of his physicians-"
"I'm sorry," Shepard cut in. "Eight?"
"That's right" the doctor nodded. "Four surgeons, a general practitioner, two lung specialists and consultant on Drellish biology."
After a distinct pause, the Commander managed a thoroughly boggled, "Well shit…"and then quipped, "I hope he won't need an exam from each of them. There'll be nothing left of him to bring back!"
Chakwas couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry ma'm" she assured, "It'll only take two to gather all the needed information." Getting back on track then, she added, "But yes, everyone is eager to keep an eye on his case, including, incidentally, the man who made all of this possible."
Shepard's expression lit with renewed interest. "Mordin?"
"Yes. He got in touch with me a couple of days ago, and was quite insistent that I provide him enough data about Thane's progress while he serves aboard the Normandy for him to make accurate projections on something he called 'outside applications'. I haven't a clue what he meant by that, but I'm not about to argue with him. He's done so much good work."
"Outside appli-" Shepard repeated, stopping herself when the words rang a bell in the back of her mind. "Thane mentioned that Mordin had spoken about the same thing with him" she said. "Or at least used the same words."
Chakwas frowned faintly, considering the situation. "Hmm…well that's curious" she mused. "I'll keep my nose to the ground from now on. Who knows what that man is getting up to these days." She paused thoughtfully, then gave her bag a light pat with both hands. "For now though, I've got a morning of meetings to get through…and a favour to ask of you, actually. If you're interested."
The Commander nodded gamely. "Shoot."
"Well..." she began, plucking a piece of folded paper from her bag and showing it to her prospective assistant as she leant over for a look. "Since coming to the hospital and waiting the day away would likely bore you rigid-"
"Hey" Shepard brooked jovially, "I'm not that easily bored. And I might get to see Thane if I tag along."
"That's true enough ma'm" the doctor noted. "But what with-"
"I know" she conceded, "I'm only fooling. Hovering around the hospital won't help anyone, much as it'd gratify me. Sorry, I jumped in on you there. You were saying?"
"Yes" Chakwas chided fondly. "I thought that, since waiting at the hospital would be tiresome, you might enjoy getting a head start on the shopping."
For a moment, Shepard's brain stalled. "Shopping?"
"Of course" she chuckled, indicating the paper she held. "I've scrabbled together a list of non-medical essentials we'll need ready for Thane's arrival. I know you made your revision notes when we last talked about him coming aboard, but-"
Shepard balked, her ears suddenly burning. "Yeah, no that one's sort of-" she blurted, cutting herself off before she said something she couldn't take back.
"Too personal for use in public, yes ma'm?" Chakwas teased good-naturedly, amused by how quickly she'd gone from straight-faced to girlishly flustered. Though the Commander declined to comment, preferring to simply glare, the fact that the heat in her ears was quickly migrating to her cheeks told the doctor all she needed to know.
"I thought as much" she grinned. "That Bio-wares shop in Bachjret Ward would be a good place to start, I think."
"Bachjret Ward's an hour away by shuttle" Shepard noted, taking the list, tucking it into her jacket's inside pocket, and resisting the urge to flip her collar up and burrow down a bit to hide her face.
"That's right ma'm" Chakwas nodded. "I know it's not an essential activity, and I'll understand if work intrudes but, if nothing else, it'll help pass the time until Thane is discharged."
Shepard huffed. "Like heck it's not essential" she said, "I'll get it done, no trouble." She gave a resolute nod, then asked, "D'you have any idea of when we'll be able to spring Thane though? I'm not missing that for a shopping trip."
The doctor smiled at her tone. "After the meeting" she clarified, closing her bag and slinging it up onto her shoulder as she left the room and headed for the elevator; the Commander attentive at her side. "We hope to finish up by about half past one, and once we have-" She paused briefly, knowingly, before adding, "We can see about you not missing springing Thane."
At her pointed mimicry, Shepard felt her cheeks warm a hint further. "Right" she said, covering the little wince of embarrassment that being sassed about her eagerness caused by glancing quickly at her Omni-tool to check the time.
[08:46]
She held in a groan.
God, how many hours is that now? Five? Closer to six? I'll be stark raving by the afternoon!
Stepping into the lift behind Chakwas, she pressed the [Deck 2] button, folded her hands behind her back to keep from fidgeting (and thereby giving away her impatience any more than she already had) and spoke, in her best interested-for-official-reasons tone, to the ship's AI.
"EDI."
-/Yes Shepard/-
"I need to book a shuttle to Bachjret Ward. What's our ETA?"
-/09:05 Citadel time, give or take Citadel Control's usual margin for administrative backlog/-
"So what's that?" she guessed hopefully, "Ten minutes?"
EDI's amusement was obvious in her tone. Even to her, the woman's keenness to get the day going was clear. -/Half an hour, Commander/-
Shepard had to bite her lip to keep from cursing.
It was going to be a long day.
She could feel it.
When next he glanced at it, the clock on his terminal's screen told Kolyat that it was [09:40]. He'd been joined in the interim by his supervisor-come-partner Ollie, the Turian officer with the emissary mate, and had spent the past hour and a half working through four of the reports he owed Commander Bailey. The one he'd finished moments prior to checking the time was number twenty-seven of the thirty-three he had to complete, within a galactic-standard week and on top of his usual duties, in return for the precious six hours of Shepard-finding leave he'd been given.
It damn well wasn't a small debt to pay off but, pursing his lips briefly as he double-checked the count - 27 of 33..yes..that's right - Kolyat felt that he had everything well in hand. He was making comfortably good time, this being the fourth day since he'd acquired what Bailey called his 'homework', and he was sure that he wouldn't need the three he had left to get through the remaining reports.
His extra work for the day complete, the young Drell snagged the mug of coffee Ollie had brought him when he'd arrived at the start of the morning shift, and drew from it deeply as he sat back in his chair for a moment's respite. In all honesty, he wasn't the biggest fan of the drink itself, but its warmth, and the edge the caffeine took off the fatigue that'd started creeping up on him, made it palatable.
Used to morning shifts or not, having to come in ahead of time to keep up with work these past few days, as well as dealing with the stress that his father's plans to go to war had heaped on his shoulders, had done his sleep patterns no good.
Catching himself before he could drift off into solipsistic contemplations of what it was to feel well rested, Kolyat finished all but the last dregs of his brew and sat his mug by his terminal. He gathered himself then, winced as the sound of a door slamming open echoed across the room, and stood so he could shake out his long limbs to ease a bout of cold-induced stiffness. Once he was more or less comfortable again, he cleared away the data pads and sheaves of paper littering his desk, and moved the finished reports into the 'Outgoing' file he'd made for them on his desktop.
He'd send them to Bailey at the end of his shift.
For now, he needed a refresher on the coffee.
Collecting up his mug again he edged around his chair, moved out into the aisle, and had made it about three steps when the sound of pounding footfalls behind him first registered.
He ignored them for another two steps.
After one more, a familiar voice called out his name-
"KOLYAT! Kolyat wait!"
-and he turned…and had barely enough time to brace himself before he was accosted by a terminally overbalanced whirlwind of blue-black scales and flailing limbs.
"Gods Scalia!" he yelped, catching the careering woman before she took either or both of them out in her flurry of haste. He managed to juggle his cup onto the desk beside Ollie, then put his strength into righting his struggling assailant and standing her on her feet. "Mind where the hell you're going will you!" he admonished, stepping away from her quickly lest he risk being manhandled again as she regained her balance.
"M'in a rush!" she panted, a frustrated hiss coming up from low in her throat when her equally Drellish counterpart decided to voice his irritation in a wordless, too-low-to-be-heard-by-most rumble of discontent. The noise was part and parcel of spending most days within hearing distance of him, but quite why he chose to express himself like that now was beyond her.
Yes, she'd made him angry. What else was new? But that wasn't the point! He usually spoke to her in those tones when they were in the company of people who couldn't hear them. He seemed to like the privacy aspect of it, and the fact that the vast majority of people who stood nearby for too long would start to feel a smidgen disorientated as their brains tried to process a sound that their ears weren't equipped to hear. But Ollie, and Turians generally, could hear it!
So much for privately-telling-off-Scalia-time, huh?
"Rush elsewhere" Kolyat warned, turning from the riotous calamity that was her and focussing on reaching the coffee machine without being knocked flat. Unluckily for him though, she was having none of it. As soon as he made a move, small hands grabbed his left forearm.
"No!" she yipped, feeling him tense sharply at the uninvited contact. She hadn't the weight or physical strength to actually stop him, but her touch - or rather his need to escape it and prevent her from doing it again - turned him back to her.
"I've got big news!" she enthused, letting him yank his arm away and activating her Omni-tool so she could share what she knew. "It's just h-"
"Children-" Ollie cut in drolly, turning in his seat so he could watch the commotion in the aisle. "Keep it peaceful please. The adults are working now."
Kolyat bristled, the pleats on his throat flushing with indignation. "You've got neck calling us kids" he retorted brusquely, ignoring Scalia's flutterings for a moment and focusing on Ollie. The Turian was easier on his equilibrium than the vivacious woman ever had been. "What are you?" he snorted. "Thirty?"
"Kolyat" Scalia called, tapping his side as she tried to show him her Omni-tool's display.
"Twenty-nine actually" Ollie grinned. He was too easy-going a man to be irked by the taciturn Drell's grumblings, and had known him for long enough to recognise the difference between true anger and noise for the sake of noise. This was the latter. In spades. If the lad were Turian, he'd say he was looking to impress a lady with all the posturing he was doing, but you never can tell with Drell.
"Kolyat!" Scalia tried again, tugging at his arm now. As before, her effort was fruitless.
"See!" Kolyat groused, shrugging her off as he rode out the spike of frustration her calamitous arrival, and Ollie's commentary on it, had caused. "You've got eight years on me, tops."
"Eight damn sexy years, kid" the Turian oozed, putting on a lecherous tone simply because he knew it got right under Kolyat's scales. This swapping of quips and jibes went on for over a minute before Scalia, exasperated beyond belief at being ignored, drew in a deep breath and bellowed, "KOL-YAT!" at the top of her lungs. Her volume earned a cry of discomfort from both men, but it got her fellow Drell's attention.
"WHAT!" he roared, snapping around to face her and glaring at her heatedly.
That was enough for her.
"Goddess would you listen to me" she implored, backing up a bit as Kolyat finally turned his attention to her Omni-tool's screen so she could keep what she was showing him from Ollie. For all what she'd done in accessing the information she'd accessed was technically legal given her job, sharing it technically wasn't.
She didn't need the generally tolerant Turian getting all by-the-book with her now.
"Look at what I've found!" she breathed excitedly, her words tapering to a gleeful squeak as Kolyat grasped her arm to steady the display and leaned in for a better look. It was pretty much a jumble of names and numbers to him at first...until she pointed at the bit she wanted him to focus on.
[SSV Normandy SR2 - Docking Bay D24]
For a moment, just a second or so, as Scalia quaked and shifted against his grip, the sight boggled him completely. Then came the adrenaline. He HAD to move! Quick as a wink, he shot back into his cubicle, diving for the pack he'd discarded beneath his desk hours back and flipping his terminal's kill switch. He then ushered Scalia, who was pretty much waxing lyrical with excitement by this point, out of his way, shouldered his bag and made a break for it.
He didn't get far.
"Now wait a minute!" Ollie yelled, rounding on the suddenly rushed Drell as he took off. "What's all this about Krios? You know I hate pulling rank on you, but I can't just let you bail out on your office hours."
"I've cleared a six-hour window of leave with Commander Bailey" Kolyat explained hurriedly, waving his supervisor-come-partner off as he began to stand. "I'll be back this afternoon. You can ride me about it then, but right now I've got no time."
Leaving the suspicious and scowling Turian to make a precautionary call to his superior, Kolyat turned and bolted. His mind was racing. Thoughts of what he'd tell the Commander when he saw her - how he'd approach her...what he'd say...and what he wouldn't - all clamoured for attention, and diverted his focus so completely from his surroundings that he only realised he was being followed when she who was tailing him spoke up.
"Come on!" Scalia laughed, keeping pace with him easily given how the winding cubicles and relatively tight quarters slowed him down, "If we hurry, we'll make it before too many people disembark!"
Kolyat almost tripped over himself at hearing her. "WE?" he demanded, glaring at his unwanted tag-along with a mixture of perturbed confusion and supreme discontent. "Aren't you on the clock?"
"I'm cashing in some overtime right now" she retorted briskly, dismissing his words without a second thought and ushering him forward when looking back at her made his pace drop off a bit. "Now hurry up! You don't want to miss Nick, right?"
"Nick?" he repeated, the memory of telling her his grand fib about having a serviceman-friend aboard the Normandy flashing across his mind as he frowned, puzzled. He drew breath to ask her why she was bringing him up at all, his relevance lost on him at first, but caught the words behind gritted teeth when everything that hadn't been adding up a couple of minutes ago came together in a nice, neat, horrifyingly guilt-inducing equation.
He knew now why she'd tracked the Normandy.
She'd just told him herself. So...he...didn't...miss...'Nick'.
By pure force of will alone, Kolyat, realising this, stopped himself from face-palming right there in the aisle. Of all the things he'd ever done that deserved censure, this one took the credit-chit. He had, without trying, managed to make Scalia - not his father, or some other person who frankly deserved having a wrench jammed into their works now and then - go out of her way to help him on the back of a bullshit story about someone who didn't exist. Scalia, who had never received anything but tolerance from him and had stuck around anyway; all smiles and warm vocalisations that made her jaw quiver and her chest sing.
Were it not for the need to keep moving so that he didn't miss his chance to speak with Shepard, Kolyat would have found himself a hole to crawl into and stayed there for the foreseeable future.
He felt dirty; sick to his stomach. Not for lying per se. He wasn't above that, and had fibbed to Scalia in the past about little things; like not having a supply of Tupari in his desk draw for example. He did have one. He just didn't want to share it with her, addicted to the stuff as she seemed to be. It was a selfish thing, sure, but harmless. But this…His story about 'Nick' had appealed to her better nature and, true to that nature, she'd done what she could, illegal bits and all, to help him out. Whichever way he looked at it, what he'd managed to do here was nothing short of manipulation. Entirely inadvertent, unwanted manipulation, but manipulation nonetheless.
And that was his father's game.
The wave of self-recrimination this fact brought with it would have left him brooding for days were it not for the fact that Scalia, having heard him repeat the name of his supposed 'friend', was looking at him oddly.
Guilt aside, he'd need to speak up or his ruse would be uncovered.
"-Yeah" he said, his throat tight with the effort of sounding casual. He thought quickly, adding, "It'll be good to see him again…We'll have time to catch up now, I hope" before doing the conversational equivalent of pulling across three lanes of traffic and asking, "So why are you coming, exactly?"
He'd hoped the jarring switch of focus would distract her from his mounting discomfort, and going on how she brightened it worked, but his relief was only temporary.
"You're joking, right?" she laughed, ushering at him again since his preoccupation with mentally debasing himself in the most acidic manner had slowed his pace another notch. "In case you haven't noticed, your friend serves on the same vessel as Commander Shepard! There's no way you're keeping me in the crowd for this one! Not after I found the ship! I have to come with you!"
At that, Kolyat's heart almost leapt out of his chest. With eight words - 'Commander Shepard...I have to come with you' - the situation had officially gone from mortifying and awkward, to verging on disastrous. Suddenly, his entire plan was in jeopardy. Above all others, his main reason for keeping his intention to meet with the Commander private was so that he could make sure that their acquaintance would remain safely out of the hands of well-meaning gossips like Scalia. If she tagged along with him, not only would 'Nick' be outed as make-believe, but his relationship with Shepard would be revealed as well, and that...would be fucking catastrophic.
Every one of his greatest failings in life was tied, in some small way, to his knowing the Commander. And while he knew that Scalia finding out that he'd met her before was infinitely different from her finding out about those failings, he was sure that it would only take one slip of the tongue, after she knew, to send her digging. It'd be something little. Perhaps Bailey, without thinking, would joke, 'Yeah, the only reason I haven't fired his scaly ass is because Shepard got him his job'. And that would be it. She'd know there was more to it, and she'd question, and wheedle, and dig. Not because she was horrible or wanted dirt on him, but because she'd think that his knowing the Commander was nothing short of epic and would want to know more.
The hows, whys, when's and wherefores.
Bile rose in Kolyat's throat at the thought, but much as he wanted to protest and find some way of keeping that worst case scenario from happening, he didn't have a watertight way of stopping Scalia from coming with him. Lying about his meeting with 'Nick' being private was out. She'd made it clear that Shepard was her focus, not his fictitious friend. With that in mind, saying she'd be impinging on his privacy when, in her mind, they'd be there to see completely different people would look absurdly suspicious.
Flat out telling her not to come wouldn't help either. She'd just argue with him, and he neither needed the stress that would cause, nor had the time to deal with her.
Distracting her and just legging it was an attractive option, but was also flawed. Never in his life had he met a person so keen on nursing grudges as Scalia, and icy glares and silence for the next six months wouldn't do his long-term calm any good at all. He had to work with the woman on a semi-daily basis after all.
In desperation, for a fleeting moment, he even considered telling her the truth - just coming out with it and saying, 'Scalia, forget Nick. I need to talk Commander Shepard out of taking my father to war with her' - but doing that would just make her ask questions. He could hear them now-
'What do you mean forget Nick?'
'How does your father know Commander Shepard?'
'Why does she want to take him to war?'
'What makes you think you could convince her not to take him?'
'Do you know her?'
'How?'
'Why?'
-and wouldn't be able to answer them without, to varying extents, touching upon every one of the failings he was so intent on keeping from her. From his lie about 'Nick'. To the reason he left Kahje and travelled to the Citadel. To his father's identity, and why he'd been estranged from him for a decade. To the job, the contract he'd taken. To tracking Talid, and moving from the shadows, his gun raised - only to hear 'KOLYAT!' bellowed by an unfamiliar someone. Then…the apartment. The hostage. The gun.
The attempted murder.
Glancing down at Scalia as she nattered gleefully about the possibility of meeting Shepard, Kolyat had to swallow a sigh. She was the closest thing to a friend he had on the Citadel, and while her doggedness really got on his wick on occasion, he had to admit that he was glad to have her around. In this world of faces that were either too plated, or so naked for plates that they looked more alien than the plated ones, it was…nice...to know someone that he could actually understand.
Yet she doesn't know me…he thought…Not really…How the hell would she look at me if she knew all of those things? How would anyone? I'd be shunned.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Kolyat bit the bullet. He couldn't stop Scalia from tailing him, and couldn't therefore stop the fact that he'd lied to her coming out. But what he could do – what he needed to do – was keep her from realising that he and Shepard had met each other prior to their meeting today. He could take her blowing up at him about the fib.
But the rest?
All that knowing? No.
His mind more or less settled, Kolyat steeled himself for what was looking to be an awfully fraught morning and slipped through the door between admin-area and precinct; his unexpected tag-along shadowing him excitedly. If he kept his cool, and played his cards right, this whole 'talking the Commander out of taking father to war' thing might actually work.
True to EDI's prediction, it took Citadel Control close to thirty minutes to shuffle the Normandy into dock. It was [09:32] when they were finally squared away. After spending a good portion of that time pacing like a caged tiger on the bridge, Shepard ordered herself a shuttle to Bachjret Ward and, laying her hands on Joker's shoulders before she headed for the airlock, spoke the sweetest words he'd heard her say this tour.
"Four days of shore leave for the entire crew, Mister Moreau. Effective immediately. Make it so."
That had been more than an hour back.
Now, sitting comfortably in one of the numerous chairs in the Patient Lounge at Huerta Memorial, Karin Chakwas let out a slow, contented breath as she gazed out at the beautiful vista she could see through the window opposite her. She'd bid a momentary good day to Doctor Pyral about ten minutes back - the man having promised to re-join her after dropping in to check on one of his patients - and was looking to enjoy an early lunch break before continuing her orientation morning in half an hour or so's time.
Eager to refuel after a thoroughly enjoyable yet mentally taxing morning, Karin turned her attention to the small lunch she'd brought from the hospital's canteen. On a paper wrapper in her lap sat a newly unwrapped pair of sandwiches; one salad, and the other cheese and pickle. Where Huerta procured its provisions from was beyond her but, eyeing her purchases briefly and deciding that both were delicious-looking, she put supply-lines out of her mind and went about enjoying her meal as she looked back over the day she'd had so far.
Thanks to the Citadel's rapid transit system she'd reached the hospital by [09:45] and, after receiving the slightly disappointing news that Thane was in the midst of a consultation with his GP and therefore unavailable for the warm greeting she'd wanted to give him, had spent the past hour and a quarter being schooled on his treatments by four of his eight physicians. It had been one heck of a steep learning curve for her, but she was confident that she could continue to provide the fine care they'd given him when he re-joined the Normandy.
For all the complexity that surrounded how they had made him well, the regime he was on now was remarkably simple. Two injections, given nightly, and a combination of oral vitamins and antibiotics were his lot.
And this for a man who, when she last saw him, was dying. Dying!
Shaking her head slowly, she took the first bite of her lunch, closed her eyes and smiled helplessly. She'd never been much of a one for miracles. Being a military doctor beat that propensity out of all but the most optimistic. But this…Let's just say she had some choice words for one Mordin Solus.
As Chakwas wondered on the possibility of putting the Professor forward for the Salarian equivalent of the Nobel Prize in medicine, a certain soon to be ex-patient of her immediate acquaintance was making his way towards the Patient Lounge in the company of his chief physician. The man had come by his room a few moments ago, wondering if he would like to assist him in giving their mutual friend a distinctly pleasant surprise, and Thane had grasped at the chance with both hands.
Not only would it allow him to make up for missing her arrival thanks to an awkwardly timed appointment, but it would also help take his mind off of the fact that, despite having had a rigorously active morning by all accounts, time seemed to be passing for everyone but him today.
It didn't matter what he occupied himself with: not breakfast, final appointments with two of his multifarious physicians, his morning walk, stripping his bed, or getting much of his packing done had helped even one iota. Time, fickle creature that she was, simply wasn't on his side at present. And he knew why. He was waiting for the moment he would leave the hospital with his Siha.
In a very small, entirely harmless way, the feeling he had now – the aching limbo of just waiting, just 'being' – was akin to being disconnected. His body was in the present, going through the motions and doing what it needed to, while his soul, and his heart, were waiting ahead of him with Amial.
The thought consumed him even now.
Even with the greatly welcome news of Doctor Chakwas's presence, and the prospect of aiding Doctor Pyral's plan to give her a pleasing surprise, he was divided. He was 'here' bodily; more than willing and eager to see his former, and soon to be present physician. But his soul just wanted time to pass on. He could see the doctor later, it whispered, after his Siha returned, as she promised she would, and made him Whole again.
Despite his inner discord however, Thane was unwilling to allow himself to dwell on things he could do nothing to speed. He knew, going on the lack of uproar and the fact that she hadn't come to see him, that his mate was not at the hospital presently, and he refused to squander the time he could now spend with the good doctor by selfishly locking himself away to clock-watch between bouts of solipsism. It would be unforgivably remiss of him, and indeed shallow to a degree he balked at contemplating, to disrespect her in that manner. He owed her his life after all, and had a wonder he wanted to put to her.
When Doctor Pyral sat with him yesterday evening to go through the tentative itinerary he and Chakwas had put together for today, he gave [13:30] as a tentative point by which the morning's busy rush of examinations and meetings would be over. With that in mind Thane had wanted, this morning when he spoke briefly with his Siha via the AICS, to suggest that they meet at the hospital at that time, but had faltered when his zealous caution in using extranet-based communication systems got the better of him. He left the conversation after agreeing only that she would come for him. He had no idea when.
This, he would put to the doctor.
After a couple of minutes spent traversing the halls, Thane and his counterpart entered the Patient Lounge. Looking around, they couldn't but agree that calling the place 'packed' would have been as big an understatement as calling Kahje 'damp', but for all the people going about their business - be they visitors, patients, or refugees - the atmosphere was surprisingly calm. There was no shouting, no wailing, just quiet voices, many native tongues, and a lot of helping hands.
Sending silent thanks to Arashu for that small mercy, Thane glanced around the room in search of the lady he had come to see, only to have Doctor Pyral point the way. "There she is" he said, a slender arm extended towards the seats by the windows. Looking over, Thane located her without trouble. Amid the crowds of Asari, Turians and Salarians that hurried through the room, she stood out like a silver-haired sore thumb.
"Go on now" Pyral prompted. "She's been desperate to see you all morning. How long has it been since you last saw her? Six months?"
"I believe it's closer to eight now, thank you Doctor" Thane replied, frowning faintly at the thought of how much time had passed between then and now. "Will you be staying out here?" he asked. "I'm sure she would like to thank you for orchestrating her surprise."
"Perhaps for a moment, yes" Pyral said, giving a measured nod. "I know how you value your privacy, Sere, so I won't linger for long. Besides, I need to get back and make sure the rest of her instruction is ready for after her lunch break. She's a keen study. You'll be in fine hands with her."
"I've no doubt of that" Thane agreed, asking then, "Will I see you before I depart?"
Pyral smiled, mimicking him with kind purposefulness. "I have no doubt of that."
Giving a soft chuckle as his doctor settled against the wall to watch the proceedings, Thane turned his attention to the lady by the window. Looking upon her now, he felt his lingering unease about the day and its passing ease considerably. What she, Karin Chakwas, represented in this moment - his freedom, his ability to leave the hospital today - outweighed even the biting lack of Ami's presence. And for that...Goddess was she a welcome sight.
Crowded as the Lounge was, he was able, and indeed needed, to get quite close to her before propriety dictated the need for a spoken greeting. Mindful of the fact that she appeared to be eating and was therefore not best equipped to deal with a shock, he picked his moment carefully.
"Doctor-"
Karin, hearing the word, quickly swallowed her mouthful of cheese and pickle sandwich, looked around, gasped, and stared, absolutely thunderstruck by what she saw. Not six feet from her stood the Drell who had occupied her thoughts for at least a minute daily since he left the Normandy, and in that formative instant, in the seconds after he called to her, she was bowled over by how damn WELL he looked. When last she'd seen him, he had been quite literally at death's door. Pale, sickly, hardly strong enough to stand without gasping for breath with the effort, wracked with pain, but now- Now here he was, standing straight as an arrow, his hands folded at his back; shoulders firm and set.
For Karin, it was as if she'd never actually met the man before now. Even in the months prior to his health becoming critical, he hadn't looked like this. His eyes, once lifeless and exhausted, their lids grey-pink with lack of oxygen, where now attentive and jet black in turns. His scales were the same, as were the pleats on his cheeks and throat. Where once they were dull sickly greens and almost pink respectively, they were now suffused with colour and rich; so much so that she would have bet a credit that she'd take some of that colour away with her on her fingers if she touched him. His presence was almost palpable, and even at this distance he looked so alive, so vital, that she found it hard to believe that he had ever been the man she remembered from the medical bay.
Her disbelief came out in words, soft ones, spoken on the tail-end of a splutter of shock. "Well I'll be God damned-" she managed, moving her lunch from her lap and wobbling to her feet, her knees feeling a hint unsteady at his sudden arrival.
Thane gave his most affecting smile as she rose and approached him, relaxing his stance slightly into something a hint more welcoming than regimented stillness. "It is good to see you again" he said as she made it around the edge of her chair and came towards him. "You have been well, I hope?"
"I've been…fine, I-" Karin tried, shaking her head and pursing her lips at his politeness and knowing smile. "Ohh never mind about me" she breathed, opening her arms slightly as she came near. "Look at you! I'd never thought I'd see the day that you'd be well."
"I have you, in part, to thank for that" Thane replied, dipping his head modestly as the doctor appraised him.
Tsk'ing softly, she waved off the compliment and said, "There's no need to thank me for doing my job dear" before gathering herself and laying a hand on each of his forearms. She knew the man wasn't the most tactile when it came to acquaintances, and didn't want to overreach herself in her excitement at seeing him again. He seemed content with her touch however, and repaid it lightly upon her elbows as he spoke to gently correct her.
"No…there is every need" he said, his earnestness clear. "I only hope, through the life I may now live, that I prove to you my gratitude. The words 'thank you' ring so very hollow in circumstances like this...don't you agree?"
Inordinately touched by the unusually verbose turn her stoic friend had taken, Karin had to pause briefly to collect herself. During her time as Thane's doctor, 'circumstances like this' were quite literally impossible to foresee. She'd hoped of course - more for Shepard's sake than her own - but had never foreseen, thought or even speculated that one day they'd be standing here, talking like this.
Managing a slightly tremulous smile, she replied, "Seeing you well is all the thanks I need, Thane. Truly" and gave his arms a gentle squeeze as he searched her face intently. She could tell by the intensity of his gaze that he wanted to pursue the matter further, but after a contemplative moment - her slight waver preoccupying him - he decided against it. Instead, he spoke an understanding, "As you say" before consciously warming his expression and taking a careful half-step back.
"Come-" he prompted, turning her slightly and gesturing to her place by the windows "I won't have you losing your seat on my account. Let us settle. We have a great deal to catch up on, you and I."
Grateful for both her companion's tact, and his skill at reading human emotional cues, Karin smiled. "That we do" she agreed, happily allowing him to guide her back to the place she'd commandeered for her break. Once they were sitting comfortably - Karin back in her seat and Thane in that on her immediate right - he gave the crowds milling around them a quick glance as she tided her half-finished cheese and pickle sandwich away so they could speak without being distracted by its scent. It didn't bother her, but she knew her Drellish friend had less than no love for cheese, it and milk being entirely foreign to his people, and had no intention of making him uncomfortable.
When he returned his attention to her after the room passed muster, she smiled affectionately and asked, "Always watchful, Sere?"
Thane had the good grace to look a hint abashed. "Naturally" he replied, shifting around in his seat so that he could face her and keep the rest of the room in his peripheral vision. Never in his adult life had he been comfortable having his back to a crowded area, and in their current position, had he not turned, that discomforting circumstance would have been his reality.
"I was looking for Doctor Pyral" he explained, keeping the true reason for his slight positional adjustment to himself so he didn't risk making his counterpart somehow uneasy. "But he seems to have taken his leave."
"Taken his leave?" Karin parroted, looking about as Thane had. "I didn't realise he'd come back." She frowned for a moment, mused, "He told me that he was going to see a patient-" then gaped and laughed when Thane raised his brows and tilted his head a degree or so to the right.
"He went to get you?" she asked, giving a delighted smile when the Drell nodded. "Oh that dear man...and you!" she enthused, reaching for him again and laying a hand upon his arm. "Thank you for coming out. You've made my day."
"As you have mine" he replied, "This day could not have come fast enough, I assure you." He took another casual glance around then and, sensing an opportunity, broached the topic he'd wanted to bring up all morning.
His Siha and her plans for the day.
He had to be careful though. Asking personal questions about a well-known public figure like 'Shepard' would draw masses of unwanted attention, particularly given how crowded the room was currently. With caution in mind, he said, "On the topic of dear ones Doctor, I must ask, is Amial well?" and was gratified when Karin, wrong-footed by his use of his mate's first name as opposed to her well-known second, actually repeated it curiously before she realised who he was talking about.
His privacy-preservation technique had worked like a charm.
"Oh she's fine!" she chuckled, touching a hand to her forehead in a mocking commentary on her slip. "You know, I haven't heard that name in months. Yes, she's fine. Off shopping at the moment in fact."
At that, it was Thane's turn to chuckle. "Shopping?" he said, affecting disbelief. "Amial? You jest. She hasn't the patience."
"Ohh, you'd be surprised what a little inspiration can do to a person" Karin replied, the air of mystery carried by her words intriguing her Drellish friend greatly. Of the cacophony of questions he could have asked however, he chose his moment and presented the wonder he'd been nursing since his conversation with his Siha earlier in the day.
"Do you know when she intends to return?" he asked, adding, "She assured me that she would help me pack" to ensure that the doctor understood that he was asking about when his mate planned to come to the hospital, not when she would return to the Normandy.
Karin, having had some experience of his double-speak and meaning-by-implication during his stays in the medical bay, caught his meaning without bother. "I gave her the same time that Doctor Pyral agreed with me as our rough rounding-up time" she said, pausing then to watch his face briefly before asking, "Do you know it?"
Hearing this, understanding came instantaneously.
It was [13:30].
"I do" he replied, masking the intensity of the excitement that lit through him at hearing of his love's intended arrival time as best he could. "That is...a greatly pleasing thing to hear."
The forced modesty peppering his words didn't fool Karin in the least.
"She feels just the same about that Sere, believe me" she replied, returning the minute nod and whisper of a smile he gave her before easing onto less…personal topics. "Until then though, have you any plans? Are you all packed?"
"No, and yes" he replied, taking each question in turn. While the fact sat poorly with him, he was glad to move away from the topics of his mate and her arrival now that his wonder about them had been answered. He could feel himself beginning to pine for her, and had no intention of allowing himself to do that. It, much like lingering on memories of human philosophers and their thoughts on loneliness, would only serve to make him feel worse.
Intent on distancing himself from those negative feelings, and on spending more time in Karin's company in the process, he brooked, "My morning is empty of commitments now.." before gesturing to the re-wrapped lunch sitting neatly by her side in the hope of segueing towards the possibility of having his with her, "but I may follow your example and take a meal soon." Tilting his head a polite fraction to the right then, he offered, "If there is anything more you would like with yours, I would happily fetch it for you."
"Oh you're too kind" Karin smiled, "but there's no need to go out of your way..."
"I insist" he pressed courteously. "You have, after all, come to deliver me from this place. An addition to your lunch, and perhaps a little company, are the least I can offer in gratitude."
"Well I…when you put it that way, how can I refuse" she chuckled. Recalling then the slight issue Thane had with certain foods, she added, "Please though Sere, pick something for me that you'd like to try as well. And if there's nothing you fancy, consider the offer held for a time when there is."
Thane paused a moment, considering her words. Wondering on what might be an appropriate procurement. Something he would choose for her...that he too could try. A memory came then, of a sight, and intrigue..
- 'That looks delicious' I say, peering at the screen for a better look at the object cupped in my Siha's palm…clasped by her fingers…short nails against green skin. Foolishly, I envy it for its luck in being near her.-
..and he knew what he would pick.
"Tell me Doctor" he asked curiously. "Do you like apples?"
Bio-wares Interspecies Health Store sat on the edge of Bachjret Ward's commercial district. It was a large establishment, that had been founded by an entrepreneurial group of Hanar and Drell with two aims in mind: opening up Kahjean culture to the rest of the galaxy, and providing support, supplies and advice for denizens of the ocean-planet who found themselves on the Citadel.
In pursuing their first aim, the group decided before the shop had even been opened that, funds permitting, it would eventually cater for every space-faring species in the galaxy. Beginning with the Hanar and the Drell..so that their second aim might be realised – a reputation for excellence was fostered, and over the five decades since its opening the shop was expanded to include sections devoted to the Asari, the Turians, the Volus, and the Salarians. The next potential expansion was tabled to include Humans into the already eclectic mix, but with the climate of unrest that pervaded after the Geth attack, those plans had been put on indefinite hold.
Strolling through the open front doors of this bastion of integration and wellbeing, Shepard found the store to be spacious and warmly lit. Each species-specific section had its own dedicated decor and attendants, and the air carried the faint scent of spices and herbs that were common to some races, yet unknown to others. To a human nose there were whispers of wicker, sandalwood, and clove, along with a hint of something that reminded her of burnt sugar. It was an odd mix, certainly, but it wasn't at all unpleasant.
As she worked her way along the well signposted aisles to the 'Drell' section of the shop's open-plan interior, Shepard took her list from her pocket and read through it carefully. She'd need a mission brief if she was going to do this shopping thing properly, unfamiliar with Drellish buying habits as she was, and Doctor Chakwas had been kind enough to provide one.
Sort of.
1) Vitamin supplements - protein and calcium particularly. A multi-vit perhaps?
Doable, she thought. At least I recognise that entry
2) Bathing materials
Less sure here
a) A sand heater
b) Sand
Definitely less sure here
c) Towels
d) A bathing mat
e) Sloughing brushes
What-ing brushes?
3) Any good protein-based foodstuffs you can find that won't spoil quickly
Well that one's helpful
4) Tea
And that one's a given
Right
Turning her attention from her list, Shepard looked around quickly to make sure she'd made it to the correct area of the store, found that she had thanks to the 'Welcome to the Drellish section' sign that hung nearby, took a good look around, her mind open and curious…and promptly fell victim to a massive case of culture-shock-induced disorientation. Everywhere she looked she saw Drellish things - items on shelves; writing on labels and signs beside the standard Basic text; displays showing off the finest items on offer- The array was staggering. Colour was everywhere, from boxes on a display behind her, to mats on one to her left, to the items on the shelves on the back wall. It was all vibrant. All rich. And if she listened hard, she could even hear the faintest whisper of music playing that she hadn't detected elsewhere in the store. She was suffused, and for all she was utterly lost amid it all, and desperately wished that Thane was with her so she wouldn't feel quite so intimidated by all of the newness around her, she was enthralled.
It was all she could do not to ditch her list and just rummage like her life depended on it. That though would run the risk of being late for her 'appointment' at Huerta, so Shepard reviewed her list quickly instead -
Vitamins – Right, I can do that
- and took a slow stroll around the area in order to locate the items she was after. Like the entire store, the 'Drell' section was an open place - a couple of aisles-worth of shelving giving way to a spacious area dotted by display tables - and it didn't take the Commander long, in view of how well it was signposted, to find what she was looking for and summarily check off the first item on her list. The next though -
2) Bathing materials
- she'd known as soon as she saw it that it would give her trouble. Unlike the vitamin bit, she barely had the first clue about Drellish bathing habits. The cheeky little aside she'd given Thane when they'd spoken about his want for a proper bath was her limit. Outside of that, she was lost. Swimming in questions. Were there different types of sand she should know about? What if she got the wrong kind? Were there wrong kinds? What did a sand heater look like? For that matter, what did a bathing mat look like? How was it different to a regular non-bathing-type-mat? Was it?
She was so preoccupied with being puzzled that she didn't realise she'd been standing in place staring at her shopping list until an unfamiliar voice spoke a kind, slightly rumbly,
"Excuse me?"
Jerked from her thoughts, Shepard looked in the direction it came from, caught the eyes of the person who'd spoken, and stopped herself a whisker shy of doing a double take.
"Can I help you ma'm?" the person asked, stepping a bit closer and favouring the Commander with a warm smile. "You've been lingering here for a few minutes now. I was wondering if you needed assistance."
"Err…I'm- Yes, actually" Shepard managed indelicately, trying to hide the fact that the sight of the newly arrived attendant had consumed her interest completely. Standing before her was a young lady wearing the Bio-wares employee uniform - brown shirt, black trousers and shoes, blue apron, affecting expression - who also happened to be Drellish. She - and she certainly was a 'she' despite the fact that, because of her reptilian heritage, she lacked the most obvious outward indications of mammalian femininity - was a slight looking woman. She couldn't have been taller than 5'5, had scales the colour of a coffee with just a splash of milk added to it, and a smile that warmed her inkblot eyes up noticeably. Slight of frill and with a delicate chin, she watched Shepard watch her with what looked to be genuine curiosity behind the store-front manner she used for work.
Now usually the Commander's assessment of a person's appearance would stop there...but this...this meeting was just a little bit special. Besides the Asari it was damn rare to see a female non-human, and to meet one who was also a member of perhaps the rarest race in the space-faring galaxy?
Well. That just called for attention right there.
She couldn't pay all that attention while staring the poor woman out however, so she snapped herself out of her stupor and got back to talking. "I've come shopping for a friend of mine" she explained, minding her words so that she could keep said friend's identity and her actual relationship to him out of the spotlight. "He's getting out of hospital today, and needed someone to fetch a few essentials for his place."
"Oh I see" the attendant said, tilting her head as she regarded her customer inquisitively. "He is Drellish, yes?" she asked, making sure she understood the situation before she sought to give advice or help with purchases.
"That he is" Shepard replied. "I've got this list here but...honestly-" She gave a little self-deprecating chuckle as she showed the slip of paper to the coffee-scaled woman, and answered her kindly-
"You're a little lost?"
-with an emphatic, "Yes ma'm."
Happily for the Commander's predicament, her assistant had everything in hand. "Well, we can fix that now" she said welcomingly, reading through the list and committing it to memory with brisk and practiced efficiency. She nodded when she was finished, and smiled as her customer, knowing she wouldn't be needing it again, slipped it back into her inside pocket. "We'll start from where you got stuck, and I'll explain things as necessary" she went on, chuckling genially as she added, "We can't have you wandering lost, now can we?"
Shepard gave a relieved huff. "No, I don't suppose that'd do much for my reputation" she agreed easily, following the young woman as she guided her further into the 'Drell' section of the store. "Much obliged for the help."
"It's no trouble ma'm" she smiled, "If you have questions, ask them. It's what I'm here for. Oh-" She tapped the little Drellish-to-Basic nametag affixed to her apron. "I'm Kehksi, by the way."
"Shepard" the Commander replied reflexively, though by the way her helper was grinning at her the introduction was unnecessary. She added a cordial, "Nice to meet you-" but had to pause when the woman's name stuck in her throat. It wasn't that it was difficult to pronounce. Having heard her say it - 'Kek-see' - it would take little effort for Shepard to carefully mimic. What got to her was the fact that she knew the name. She'd read it once before, when Doctor Chakwas gave her that lovely glossy Drellish magazine called Laksha.
Kehksi was the name of the writer of the romance column.
As she walked along beside the woman, fascinated by how the soft brown pleating on her cheeks and throat seemed to lead right into the dappled mochas of her scales, the want to ask her if she was that Kehksi was strong. Common-sense kept her quiet though. Asking such a thing would likely draw the woman to conclude, not only that she knew about the magazine, but that she had a reason to read through the section she wrote in it too. That assumption could easily lead to much less mundane ones - ones that were infinitely closer to the truth - and that just wasn't something the Commander had the patience to deal with at present.
Much as inter-species relations were nothing new to the galaxy, now was hardly the time or place for her connection to Thane to become public knowledge. She didn't need a press field day occurring thanks to a slip of the tongue.
A cool-fingered touch to her wrist brought her from her contemplations, and she drew to a stop beside her assistant. Kehksi..Kehksi..Kek-see..gotta get that name right.
"Here we are ma'm" the Drellish lady smiled, gesturing to a well-appointed display of items that covered both an appreciable section of the back wall, and a cloth-covered demonstration table that stood before them. At first glance at least, the objects on show appeared to be Tajine - deep terracotta bowls with conical lids, that stood on slender legs.
While Shepard squinted slightly with concentration as she puzzled over the array, Kehksi began to explain quite what it was she was looking at. "These are sand heaters" she said, indicating the one that sat closest to them on the demonstration table. It was wide and deep-set, just like its cousins on the shelves nearby, and looked to have been varnished or glazed a rich reddish black. "They're used, as the name implies, to warm the sand we use to bathe."
"I see" the Commander mused, tapping her nails against the heater's lid appraisingly. "So…treat me like a tourist here. How do they work exactly?"
Kehksi grinned, lifting the lid carefully away and setting it aside so she could demonstrate. "The sand is ladled into here with one of these," she began, gathering up a wooden ladle that was set out, along with a couple of similar tools, beside the heater. "And is spread evenly to ensure that it's heated thoroughly. The heating element is built into the base here-" She tapped the bottom of the bowl lightly with her knuckles. "And the legs-" A touch now for each of the four tapered legs the heater stood on. "Stop it from marring the surface it's put on."
"Clever," Shepard said, watching her assistant's careful fingers as she explained. "And the lid's to help the sand warm up, right? To keep the heat in?"
"That's right ma'm" the Drellish lady confirmed, sitting the ladle back in its proper place while the Commander nodded, pleased at having made a correct deduction.
"Outstanding. Right, I've got it so far" she noted, glancing around at the display. Puffing out a breath then, she looked at her helper hopefully. "Any suggestions on which is best for a gentleman Drell who's just got out of the hospital?"
Kehksi was thoughtful for a moment, her fingertips set to rubbing her jaw as she considered her answer. "They'll all do the job well ma'm" she advised. "It mostly depends on how many functions the buyer wants, and on their taste in aesthetics. Some of these…this one for example-" She tapped the reddish-black heater that sat on the table before them. "Can be set very precisely. On this model, the temperature can be set within a tenth of a degree. There's also a timer, an automatic 'off' switch, a favourites utility that lets the user save their preferred settings- I could go on all day."
At the word 'functions', Shepard grinned knowingly. "The rule of thumb with the buddy I'm buying for is, the more he has to fiddle with it the better. So…I think I'll take one of these ones." She pointed to the heater on the display table. "But maybe in matte black? I don't think this one would agree with his eyes too well. He's had the-"
"The treatment that allows us to pick up the Hanars' higher frequencies" Kehksi put in, nodding her understanding. "Yes, most Drell have." A couple of clicks on her Omni-tool later, she proclaimed, "Matte black is no problem ma'm. We'll ship your purchases when you're finished here today. All right, that's the heater done-" She paused fractionally, recalled the Commander's list from memory, then prompted, "Sand's up next."
"You know, I meant to ask" Shepard said as she followed her assistant over to another display close by. This one was oval-shaped, and had upon it the widest variety of sand types she had ever seen. They came in clear tubs of varying sizes and, upon closer inspection, appeared to be arranged by order of fineness; the most fine variety - so white it resembled triple-milled sugar - sitting beside the next, and the next, and so on and so forth. She gestured to the panoply as she asked, "-And this is another really touristy question, but why sand? Does water not do the job?"
"It works well in practical terms" Kehksi replied, making sure the display was still neat and tidy as she explained. "And is fine for an occasional wash down, so long as we can dry off thoroughly. But our scales aren't particularly absorbent, and bacterial infections are easily caught. Especially during the molt."
At that last word there - 'molt' - Shepard perked up. She remembered it from her introduction to Laksha. What was the article's name again? she wondered, 'Surviving the molt' or something? She'd been curious when she saw it, having no idea what a 'molt' was, and since she had the chance to bring it up in knowledgeable company now, she couldn't not enquire. "Sorry-" she said, feeling a hint bashful at having to ask. "-But what's a 'molt'?"
For a moment, Kehksi looked slightly taken aback by the question. Since the customers she dealt with were usually Drell themselves, it simply wasn't something that had to be asked. To her, and her people, it was just known of. "It's the shedding of scales, ma'm" she explained. "The old layer making way for the new."
"Ohh right" Shepard replied, nodding quickly and feeling more than a bit dense at having missed such a pivotal piece of intel about her mate's people. "It sounds similar to how humans lose hair and skin flakes" she added, hoping the comparison wasn't somehow offensive.
The attentive nod she got in response allayed her fears. "The Drellish molt isn't constant in the way human shedding is" Kehksi noted. "But yes, it's similar otherwise. As we get older, the period between molts gets longer, since we're not growing into our scales anymore. A healthy adult Drell usually goes through one every six months, give or take, though sickness and severe stress can cause problems."
Mentally tripping over the word 'sickness' - its relevance to her beau's recent situation obvious - Shepard pressed, "Would my friend be- I mean since he's been so ill.."
Kehksi smiled slightly, warmed by how thorough the Commander was being in her effort to be helpful. "If he has had problems ma'm, his doctor would have seen to them for him. Trouble shedding is the most common ailment Drell who have had a protracted illness encounter as they begin to get better. The best treatment, honestly, is access to hot towels, a stress-free environment, a sand heater and-" She gestured grandly to the display before them. "A selection of grains so they can bathe as they need to."
"And we were getting to that" Shepard concluded, contrite, "before I interrupted you. Please, go on. I'm all ears."
"It's quite fine ma'm" Kehksi replied. "I understand your curiosity. Now, as you can probably tell just by looking at this lot, sand comes in more varieties than most races have names for. Each kind has uses to which it's especially well suited. Softer ones, like this one here-" She picked up a tub containing a finely milled blend, its contents just off-white and powdery, and showed it to Shepard. "Are best for the very young, and for people who have just shed. They're gentler, you see. Less abrasive."
"That makes sense-" she nodded, observing the tub and its contents carefully. Curious then, she reached across the display and selected one that contained the closest thing she could find to the soft blend's antithesis. The grains within it were almost entirely greyish-silver, and looked more like tiny wet pebbles than sand at all. "What about this one?" she asked, tapping the tub she held gently.
"That would be especially helpful during a molt, when you're trying to slough away old scales" Kehksi explained, sitting her example back with its fellows and gesturing to the display as a whole once more. "As a rule, the more coarse the blend, the more useful it will be in that regard."
"I see" the Commander murmured, returning her tub to its proper place and going out on a limb with an almost educated guess. "So do you just...heat it up and rub it onto the skin- er...scales? Or...?"
"That's one way of doing it, certainly" Kehksi grinned, flashing her palms briefly to ask for a moment and hurrying to a nearby aisle. She returned holding what looked like a small flannel pouch, and held it out for her intrigued patron to examine. "There're also these. We call them 'rough bags'. They open at one end, like so-" she explained, teasing the drawstring that pinched the top end of the pouch closed loose. "And are filled with whatever kind of sand the user wants. You then close it, and can either put it in the sand heater to warm up or, if you've already heated the sand, use it right away. The material is porous enough that the sand is worked through as the bather uses the bag."
Sensing a workable comparison, Shepard tried, "A bit like a sponge, right?"
"That's right ma'm" Kehksi confirmed, demonstrating by rubbing the exposed scales on her forearm with the rough bag. "They're really effective during a molt. These and sloughing brushes - soft-hair brushes that help with removing shed scales - are the top sellers for personal hygiene and grooming. Personalised sets can make great gifts too."
"I'll bet" the Commander grinned, pausing to contemplate whether her mate would appreciate such a thing as her helper returned the bag to its shelf. She knew he had a distinct fondness for tactile pursuits, and all this talk of sand and rough bags and warmth and brushes certainly fit that bill. He'd said too, when they spoke using the AICS a couple of days back, that he wanted a Drellish bath when he got home - and now that she had an idea of what such a bath entailed - she could understand why. Catching her assistant's eyes as she returned, Shepard smiled.
"Now, I want my friend to feel like a king when he gets home later today" she said, watching the Drellish lady nod diligently as she listened. "With all the hell he's been through recently, he deserves some serious downtime...so...can we make up something like 'the perfect bath kit for the recuperating Drell' or something? Last time we talked he told me that he's desperate for a proper one, and I want to make that happen for him."
"That's a lovely thought, ma'm" Kehksi smiled. "We sell gift packages just like that for a wide range of occasions, bath time included. We could make one up by hand now if you like. Fetching a box won't take a minute."
"Sounds great" Shepard nodded, watching as her helper hurried off to find the box they were to use. Smiling to herself as she glanced around, she had to admit that this shopping lark felt a lot less intimidating now. It was actually...and she'd never speak this aloud...but it was actually...fun.
By the time Shepard and Kehksi had ticked off each of the things on the Commander's list, it was [11:43]. Along with the prescribed items, she came away with a selection of scale-oils that were apparently the Drellish equivalent of shower gel, various pots of what looked like large grains of rice but translated as something like 'mealworms' (a protein-rich foodstuff that Kehksi assured her would delight her 'friend' and be the basis of numerous meals), a box of four stress balls that she had machinations of learning to juggle with, and finally, a small purple wristband that she got in return for making a sizeable donation to the Laksha - Fighting Keprals charity, as advertised on the donation box at the checkout.
She hadn't even realised such a thing existed before today, and had such an emotional connection to what the charity was working towards - an eventual cure for the Syndrome that affected, according to Kehksi, one in seven Drell - that signing over five thousand credits from her personal account just sort of...happened.
Large as the sum was, she was content letting it go. She had more than enough savings to cover a one off donation of that size, and even if she hadn't, even if it would have been a stretch, she'd have done it regardless. It was a DAMN good cause, and she'd gleaned such an absurd amount of pleasure from making up a little cipher so that the donation could be made anonymously, that the expense didn't even register in her mind.
AK she'd written on the transfer of funds form.
Short, simple and to the point.
The thinking behind it was this. Were she to sign her name, she'd write, 'A Shepard'. Read literally that signature could convey two things. Firstly, that she was a Shepard, as in one of the family Shepard. And secondly that, just like her father had been with his identical first initial, she was liable to be ribbed 'til the day she died about being 'a shepherd'; a leader.
It was the first literal reading that inspired her here.
If she could be a Shepard, why couldn't Thane, in whose honour she was making the donation in the first place, be referred to as a Krios? For he was, literally, a Krios. One of the family Krios.
It was perfect, fitting, but conspicuous if written out fully.
Thus, she shortened it to its initials.
AK.
She liked that. It had...weight.
As she left the store, waving a polite goodbye to an ebullient Kehksi, she checked the time on her Omni-tool.
[11:50] it read.
Since she wasn't expected at Huerta until around [13:30] or so, she had plenty of time for a quick between-times trip back to the Normandy to freshen up before taking the express elevator from Docking Bay D24 up to the hospital.
Her mind made up, she retraced her steps to the transport hub, hoping that her orders would make it back to the ship before she brought Thane home. It'd taken some quick thinking on her part to invent a plausible cover for why she wanted them sent there and not to her 'friend's' address, but with a little lie of the white kind - 'He's being released this evening and I want to get everything ready for him beforehand' - the delivery was secured. Her story wasn't entirely false either. She did want to get their room ready for him in his absence - to make it as convivial as possible - and having her purchases to hand would really help with the 'welcome home' feel she wanted to put across.
There aren't even two hours to go now, she thought, sucking in a breath to try and calm the explosion of butterflies that fact caused in her belly. Two hours...and I can finally go to him.
Hiking up her jacket's collar, she slipped her hands into her pockets, tamped down on her excitement as best she could, and focused on her destination.
One step at a time.
Come on woman.
Just a bit longer.
With a disconcerted grumble, Kolyat closed his Omni-tool's user interface, propped himself up against the wall just outside of Docking Bay D24's Passenger Lounge, and rubbed the pads of his fingers over his eyes. It was [12:52]. He and Scalia, who he'd sent off in search of a Tupari a couple of minutes back, had been waiting for a good two hours now, and so far there had been no sign of the person they'd both come to see.
No sign of Shepard.
The situation made him feel maddeningly impotent. All he could do was wait, keep both eyes on the crowds, and hope that the Commander would turn up before he either used up his six hours of leave and had to return to work, or blew his cover with Scalia. The way things had been going, it was more likely that that second eventuality would be the thing that ended his bid to find Shepard, not the first. The longer they had to wait, the less convincing his frustrated glances at his Omni-tool, expressions of contrition for wasting her time, and bids to react appropriately to and distract her from 'Nick's' continued absence would become. He'd gone through most of his repertoire in the contrition department already; sending her to get herself a Tupari being his last rallying-cry in that regard.
She'd be buying it with his credit-chit.
He couldn't get more contrite than that.
Things were beginning to get tight.
A rustle of fabric and a presence near his left side drew his attention away from the increasing folly of his situation, and he glanced down in his best disdainful manner to see Scalia, her fingers curled around a frosty can of Tupari, settling against the wall to people-watch.
"Found a working machine, did you?" he asked, affecting boredom with her comings and goings to see if it would rile her. By her rapid nodding and cockeyed grin, he'd say it didn't.
"Yeah" she replied, sipping from the open can. "Had to use the machine around the corner since the one in the Lounge died on me, but I got there in the end." She pinched her lips together and furrowed her brow with distaste. "Cost me a credit more than it would have if the broken one wasn't."
"It cost me a credit more, you mean. You used my damn chit" he snipped, making sure to labour that fact to ensure that the contrition he'd handed the chit over with was appropriately balanced by his usual guarded, wry demeanour. He had appearances to keep - confusion and anger at 'Nick' to affect - and he couldn't do that if, in trying to act natural, he let the guilt he really did feel for having manipulated her into finding the Normandy make him appear disproportionately penitent.
Luckily for him, Scalia was taking his gestures at face value for now.
"Well you did owe me," she joked easily, sure in her own mind that her companion was acknowledging, by allowing her to use his chit for her purchase, that he both owed her for finding the Normandy for him, and felt guilty about wasting her time with the wild-goose chase his friend had lead them on this morning. She'd tried to tell him that he didn't need to worry over apologising or repaying her - that she'd looked for the ship, and thereby Nick, because she'd wanted to help out, not because she wanted payment, and that the chance to see Commander Shepard wiped away the debt he didn't owe her anyway - but that had only made him more insistent. In the end, taking the chit had been her way of assuaging him, and being that he seemed pretty assuaged now, what with the sarcasm and general surliness, she was glad she had done.
Guilty wasn't something she liked to see her friend being.
Settling herself in for the duration, she asked, "Still no sign of Nick?" while carefully slipping the chit back into Kolyat's pocket and canting her head up to try and catch his eyes. The clipped and final, "No" she got in response didn't surprise her. Over the past couple of hours, he'd become more and more short with her on the topic of his wayward friend, and she could understand why. If he'd left her hanging for ages without so much as a call, she'd be pissed too.
Heck, she was pissed by proxy now.
She'd spent such a long time making gratuitous use of her administrative pass into Citadel Control's databases looking for the guy that she felt entitled to be. He wasn't only jerking Kolyat around, he was messing with her as well, and as far as she was concerned he deserved every inch of the verbal flaying she was planning to give him when he finally turned up.
For now though, instead of riling herself up by dwelling on how she'd tackle Nick and his horrific timekeeping skills, she resolved to try and make things a bit more bearable for her irritable friend. He'd never been one for talking when he was in a snit, so instead she gave him a gentle tap on the arm, passed her Tupari to him, and did her best to keep watch over the entire room while he had his share.
To heck with friends who weren't showing up promptly.
She was Shepard-watching.
It'd been a hope of hers since the battle of the Citadel that, one day, she'd be able to thank the woman for what she did in repelling the Geth, and today might be her chance. It was a slim one sure, but one nonetheless. Scanning the crowds, she looked back briefly over the memories she had that featured the Commander - or more accurately said, that featured pictures of the Commander - and sought to find her amid the masses. She recalled her face - the eyes too small by Drellish standards; the bridge of her nose oddly dipped, instead of being smooth and graceful like those of her people; lacking in frill, pleats and scales; colourless; naked-looking; overly expressive…And decidedly not easy to pick out in a crowd that was four fifths human!
Chuffing softly with impatience, Scalia readjusted herself against the wall and cocked her head when Kolyat called to her quietly. He gave a dual-toned hum, low in his chest, in place of speaking her name, and she accepted her Tupari back as he passed it to her before turning her attention to the path that lead off to the left towards the Normandy and its airlock.
She was hoping, wishing even, for signs of life...but there was nothing.
No one leaving the ship..
No one entering the ship..
No sign of Shepard.
Disheartened, she took a quick sip from her can, and was reaching to tap Kolyat's arm again when she felt him tense. He stood up from his place sharply, his attention caught by someone on the other side of the room near the elevators.
"Kol?" she called, edging around him to see, and then he was moving; his broad back blocking her view as he strode through the oncoming crowd towards whomever it was that had caught his eye. Disorientated briefly by the swiftness of his departure, it took Scalia a moment or two to absorb situation and decide what to do about it. It was obvious to her by how intent Kolyat was on getting to where he was going that Nick had finally decided to show up. Were she in his place, and had suffered a two hour wait for someone who promised to meet her promptly, she'd have been over to them like a shot too. With balled fists and depthful scowls.
That being the situation, she had two options.
There was the creepifying one - in which she tailed Kolyat, made a point of introducing herself to Nick and gave him the piece of her mind she'd planned to for being such a crappy time-keeper, and the non-creepifying yet still slightly stalkerish one - which involved keeping a discrete distance and spying covertly until she lost interest and went back to Shepard-watching.
Totting up the relative risks and benefits of each choice - the main risk being incurring her notoriously snappish friend's wrath, and the chief benefit the possibility of venting her spleen - she chose caution, performed a quick 180, and walked down the small flight of stairs into the Passenger Lounge. Casually sipping her Tupari as she strolled along, she kept her focus stage left and tried to work out who Kolyat was heading for. She could see him across the distance separating them, the crowds parting around him as they had a wont to when he was in a hurry.
The C-Sec uniform likely helps she thought, watching him across the top of her can. And the scowl. Yeah...definitely the scowl. And the height. A tiny, defiant part of her mind lingered appreciatively on that detail..
Goddess is he tall
..before she checked herself..
Tall and Kolyat
..shuddered, and put her mind to keeping her pace comfortably shy of his as she stalked him. She had to make sure that she didn't look like she was acting out remembered basic training on covert manoeuvres from her early days in C-Sec.
When she was certain that he was none the wiser to her tailing him, she looked away from her mark briefly, snickered through a sip of Tupari at the thought of Kolyat being 'her mark', then got back to snooping as she reached the stairs on the opposite end of the Lounge. He looked to have stopped now, and was certainly speaking to someone - the focus on his face and the fact that his lips were moving gave that away - but the damn crowd milling between her and the object of her curiosity made it difficult for her to see who he was conversing with.
Typical
Determined not to be scuppered in her attempts at spying, she moved up the stairs, propped herself against their top-most edge, and waited. Ten seconds went by. Twenty.
Come on…come on…one little break in the people-traffic and-
Two breaths later, she got her wish. The wandering crowds parted, she caught sight of who Kolyat was speaking with, and was instantly, thoroughly confused. She couldn't tell much about the person, their back being to her at present, but she knew one thing with absolute certainty. THAT...was not Nick.
It couldn't be.
Every indication she'd had from Kolyat told her that Nick was male, but the person he was speaking to wasn't. They were human, certainly - they had hair, and pinkish-peach skin on their hands and neck - but they weren't male. She could tell because they - no…not they…she - resembled a female Drell in a couple of important ways. Her waist was comparatively small for her frame, and she had a classically feminine rear.
Definitely a she, she thought. And definitely not Nick. So who is she?
Sensing that she was on the cusp of learning something massively gossip-worthy about her notoriously taciturn friend, Scalia redoubled her spying efforts and took in what details she could about the lady he was speaking with.
Going on where the top of her head reached on Kolyat, just below his chin, she'd be about 5'8, was wearing a leather jacket, combat boots and what looked like fatigues, she was quite strapping too, had dark hair, and when she turned her head..and gave the room her profile-
Scalia gaped..her Tupari falling unheeded at her feet.
She knew that face.
She..knew..that..face!
After seconds of stunned staring, adrenaline flooded her system. It sent her cold, and brought four words to her otherwise shock-blanked mind.
You sneaky BASTARD, Kolyat
A/N two, the second coming.
Ollie's given name is pronounced, 'Hhlee-uhs' and his mate's is 'Sal-yih-ree'.
And now!
Coming in the next instalment!
Kolyat finally gets to talk to Shepard.
And the Commander learns something that breaks her heart.