Disclaimer: Everything recognisable is Bioware's. Everything else is mine.

A/N: Greetings all and welcome to chapter 10. Thank you for all of the thoughtful reviews, follows and favs. Getting them is really inspiring, and it's pleasing to know that the story is still being enjoyed. A tiny-small note - you might want to have the message Shepard wrote to her mother in chapter 4 open while you're reading, just so you can follow when she references back to it. It's quite easy, but still, chapter 4 was a long time ago :-)

Enjoy.

Yours faithfully,

L.G

The Call

In which the servicewomen Shepard brainstorm and Thane, after meeting someone he had only heard of from his Siha, finally makes it home

Not two minutes after she received word of Admiral Shepard's incoming hail, Commander Shepard strode through the War Room towards the Quantum Entanglement Communications area, Primarch Victus eyeing her face with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She nodded to him as she passed on by, pressing her lips together to keep from grinning.

It was the glasses that threw him, she was certain.

When she reached her destination, she straightened her shirt and cargos and quickly retied her work-mussed ponytail before standing in her customary place at the comm. feed and addressing EDI. "EDI, activate the privacy screens and double encrypt the channel. Once that's done, dim the lights by a fifth in here and patch her through."

-/Of course, Commander./-

As the lights dimmed the required fraction, the Commander removed her borrowed glasses and slipped them into her pocket, her eyes now almost totally recovered from their earlier, Drell-induced bout of cataclysmic sensitivity. The low hum of the room's privacy screen, which blocked all noise from both entering and exiting the QEC area, sounded and eased into silence then, and with a muted flash and a dutiful.. -/Double encryption protocols active/- ..the connection was established and the Commander faced a woman she hadn't seen in the flesh for over three years. She didn't allow herself to smile openly, constrained as she was in that moment by protocol, but behind her eyes she was beaming.

A small and slender five feet to her daughter's strapping, father-given five eight, Hannah Shepard stood front and centre, all blonde hair, green eyes, impeccable uniform and distinct military bearing, and focused on her child's face for a long moment - really taking her in and savouring the sight of her - before speaking to her directly. "Commander Shepard" she said, snapping to and saluting crisply as her daughter did the same.

"Admiral Shepard" the Commander replied, relaxing into her usual at ease posture, hands at her back, feet apart, when the Admiral gestured for her to do so. "How can I help you Ma'm?" she asked. "I get the feeling that this isn't a social call."

Hannah replied with a question of her own. "Are we watertight, Commander?" Her word-choice would have lost anyone except her girl, and it was meant to, but her meaning, two-pronged as it was and between them alone, was clear. The first was an implication. She was using their code, their little personal language of implication and double-speak, and was warning the Commander that she should do so in kind. Despite the precautions she had taken in setting up this call, she had no reason to trust that people – from Cerberus, to Reapers, to Batarians, to grudge-holding news anchors who'd been continuously denied the opportunity to paint her daughter in a discourteous light – weren't at least trying to listen in, and she wasn't about to risk a leak. On that note, her second implication, this one directly alluded to by the question she'd asked, concerned security.

Is our connection here watertight? Is it safe to speak as freely as we ever do when we aren't in person?

"As a duck's, Ma'm" Shepard responded, allowing herself a little grin as her mother gave an amused, if slightly wry huff. Tight as a duck's arse, while rather crude, got the point about the safety of their link across neatly.

"Ten four, but still" Hannah said, her expression hardening as the Commander nodded her understanding. "And yes, you're right. This isn't a social call. That said, how's the weather?"

All right, but I still don't trust it. Where are you? Are you in danger?

"We're three short of a spider" she replied, giving their rather unique codeword for the Citadel - which has five arms and is therefore three short of a spider's eight - before adding, "No trench work. And you? Weather good?"

We're on the Citadel. We haven't been on the front line recently. How're you? Are you safe?

"Cold trenches and wide eyes" Hannah clipped. "Weather's black."

We haven't seen the front lines either. We've got our eyes open. We're watching. Scouting. We're out in the black. Out in space.

She wouldn't, couldn't be any more specific than that, and the Commander couldn't blame her. Giving another slight nod to convey her understanding, she got down to business. "Shopping, Ma'm?" she asked, referencing the email she'd sent to her and its mention of looking for a new plan for dealing, somehow, with the war and the Crucible.

Is that why you've contacted me? Do you want to talk about it?

Hannah drew in a breath, letting it out slowly and closing her eyes for a moment; readying herself for what she knew would be a tense discussion. When she opened them again, she said, "Partly. Cat on a hot tin roof about that here, Commander."

There're other things I want to talk about too, but yes. The Crucible makes me terribly uncomfortable.

"Back at you" Shepard replied, frowning empathically. "Grapevine?"

Me too. Heard anything about it recently? Anything on the grapevine?

Hannah pursed her lips tightly, considering how to put across what she knew. "Bits and pieces. The home team is the only one involved with the ornament so far. It's early days still, but everyone's keen as mustard. The Boardroom isn't considering other options at this point. Not seriously at least. Murmurs. Nothing more. And you? Bought anything new?"

I know a little. The Alliance is the only faction/group/race involved so far in the Crucible's construction. It's early days, but everyone involved is very eager about it. The Brass/High Command isn't considering other options seriously. There're murmurs about alternatives, but nothing concrete or worth a mention. What about you? Know anything I don't?

The Commander's lips thinned also, an unconscious mirror of her mother's expression. "As far as we know, the ornament was the last ditch of the last cycle too" she began, pointing out that the Crucible, to the best of the knowledge of she and the persons-unspecified she was getting her intel from (Liara mostly, with helpful titbits from EDI on occasion), had been the Protheans' last resort. "There's no evidence that it was ever finished, and its capacity and scope are unknown. Other than that, and what the thing looks like on paper, we know about as much as anyone else in the know."

We have its schematics, but outside of that we know almost nothing about it.

Hannah nodded, filling in blanks in her knowledge as and when she could. "Called the builders yet, have you?"

Have you found anyone with any knowledge of how to put the thing together yet?

"God's got me on that" Shepard replied. "He's searching wide. All teams considered. Says we'll need all the help we can get."

Admiral Hackett's made doing that my priority. He's made it clear that we'll need help from races outside of Humanity if we're going to get anywhere with it.

"Non-specifics. How's that going?"

I know you can't talk specifically about your missions, but how are things looking generally?

The Commander paused, thinking through her answer carefully. In all honesty, things were a bloody mess. She'd never been good at playing politician and now, suddenly, when her skills as a soldier and a leader of men were most needed, she'd been shunted by circumstances into a role for which she was untried.

As simply as she could put it, the situation now was this: the Turians were holding out on providing anything like active aid until Palaven received Krogan support, and she was still waiting on a date and place on which to begin talks with Primarch Victus and her old ally Urdnot Wrex about how to make that happen. To complicate things further, the Salarians were adamant that a Dalatrass be present when those talks occurred, and that…that turned what was likely to be a volatile situation into something that could start another war very, very easily.

As to the rest of the galaxy - to the Drell and the Hanar, the Asari, the Volus, the Elcor, the Quarians, hell, the Geth - she didn't know. Lines were either dead or tapped, and she didn't want to draw herself any deeper into politics and potential interracial frictions than she already was. She didn't know enough, wasn't well placed enough, and had too little time to make anything but a mess of such an endeavour.

"I don't know much about a good number of the teams" she began, putting that lack of knowledge across clearly before going on. "Remember the Rachni wars Ma'm?"

The Admiral nodded. "Of course."

"No names. Take out the bugs. Who's left?"

Don't name the races aloud when you answer. Who were the major players in that war except the Rachni?

"The one that killed the bugs and the ones that worked together and stopped the killers." She frowned, shocked. "That mess?"

The Krogan killed the Rachni. The Turians and Salarians stopped the Krogan. You're involved in that debacle somehow?

Shepard nodded shortly.

Hannah puffed a breath between her lips, her brows raising. The expression was at odds with the severity of her question. "Playing peacemaker?"

Please tell me you're somehow involved in peace talks, not playing soldier.

"If it's possible, I'll get it done. I don't know if it's possible yet."

Yes, if a peaceful resolution is achievable. I haven't gotten too far with that yet though.

The puff became a low whistle, soft and quick. "Tread lightly Commander" Hannah finally said. "That's a powder keg, right there."

"Don't I know it. Everything's about the ornament though, Ma'm. Playing peacemaker and all. That's the focus, and I do get why. It's not like there's anything else on sale, right?"

All of my missions are geared towards the same goal; finding support to build the Crucible, and much as I don't like it, I understand why. It's not like there are many other options, right?

Both women were quiet for a long moment, each as deep in thought as the other. What other options indeed, Hannah mused. Anything like an offensive strike against the Reapers would be suicidal without support, and at present there was no support to be had. The galaxy was reeling.

This was not the time to be making demands.

Running for the hills had saved a good portion of the Fleet, but there was no way in hell that the human race was going to go the way of the Quarians. Earth wouldn't be ceded before it was a burned-out husk. She knew that much in her gut.

And other than those two unworkable paths…what was there?

There was using the Crucible...but what else?

"That's the question, isn't it" she finally replied, meeting the Commander's eyes. "So few resources. So few hands. So many enemies." She paused minutely before concluding, "Whatever our direction ends up being...be it keeping the ornament or whatever else...God's right to be looking far and wide."

Our eventual direction needs to be something that transcends the Alliance, be it the Crucible or some other thing we've yet to pin down. Admiral Hackett is right in having you seek out help from other races.

Shepard hummed her agreement. "Amen to that. I'm dry for ideas though Ma'm, honestly. I've got my shopping list and I'm going through it, but..."

I agree, but I still haven't got a blind clue about what that other thing might be. I've got my orders, my missions, and I'm ticking them off as I complete them...gathering what I can...but…

Admiral Shepard gave a slight, understanding nod. "Small potatoes, yes Commander?"

You don't feel like you're making a difference, do you?

The Commander returned the nod tightly. "Yes Ma'm."

You're right, I don't.

Hannah's answering smile was as tight as her daughter's nod. Since the war began, she too had been picking up the pieces; trying to coordinate and gather lost pockets of the Fleet to take some of the pressure off of an already swamped Admiral Hackett. In the grand scheme of things, with planets and colonies going dark left and right, she felt impotent, useless, and as though she was wasting her time each and every day. Every fibre in her being, just like every single one in her daughter's, resonated in the same way.

Fight.

Take back Earth.

Take it back now. NOW Shepard.

It was simply the way she was wired. The way they were wired.

She knew though that that option was beyond her at present, and that it would remain beyond her and her people if they didn't come up with some kind of a way forward. For that reason, in search of a plan or possibility for progress that didn't curdle the blood in her veins with trepidation, she'd told Commander Shepard of her worries about the direction High Command was taking. About their fixation on the Crucible to the exclusion of most everything else. She'd hoped that by doing so, her girl's comparatively vast experience in dealing with Reapers might be put to good use in looking up alternative ways to kill the damn things, instead of being squandered on tiptoeing through politics and pick-up-and-drops.

Turning away briefly then, she pressed a couple of buttons on the display before her and watched, as the Commander did, as a glowing holographic Reaper appeared between them. "I understand the feeling, and I'm getting frustrated with ornaments" she said, diverting their talk away from the dratted Crucible and gesturing to the hologram. "Let's talk about the real problem instead, hm? At least we've got a vague idea how these work."

"Arrive and destroy" Shepard opined crisply, glaring at the display. "I've been trying to think them into a real foe. Get my head around them enough to make them seem less like all hell and damnation. So far…" She huffed with both exhaustion and exasperation. "I don't know. That's my answer to most things these days. I just don't know."

The Admiral narrowed her eyes slightly, probing, "Turn that around. Tell me what you do know."

Shepard frowned. "Ma'm?"

Hannah pointed to the hologram. "What is that? Describe it to me."

For a moment, the Commander's brain stalled, blind-sided by the request. Unable to pierce her mother's logic in asking what she had, she looked at the hologram and gave answering the old college try. "Err...that's a Sovereign-class Reaper. One of their 'Capital Ship' types." Stepping a pace closer, she reached for the glittering representation of what she assumed was Sovereign itself and manipulated it, manoeuvring it into the position this particular kind of Reaper takes when landing - 'head' down, 'legs' braced and ready, back-end high as it balances. "Two kilometres from end to end, they're hellish fast and can turn in ways that'd shear any of our ships in half. Added to that, their offensive capacity's unholy." She pointed to each of the larger 'legs', getting well into her stride as she spoke. "Each of these, and its 'head', are equipped with cannons which fire a beam that can cut through just about anything we've got, defensive-wise, and its arse-end, up here-" A finger was flicked towards the hologram's bulbous rear. "From there it emits Oculi; spheres that're the Reaper equivalent of fighter jets in both size and function. In short..." Shepard took a breath, held it for a beat, then blew it out through her lips. "It's a Goddamn beast of a thing."

"Do they have weaknesses?"

"Everything dies if you shoot it enough, but that's not what you meant." The Commander regarded the hologram with a mixture of anger and concentration. "Tactically-" Again she gestured to the Reaper's hind-end, "I'd say this is the 'safe' end of an entirely unsafe thing. I've never seen these-" The small 'legs' tucked against its flanks were indicated next. "-Used offensively, and I know the big ones here-" Finally, the large, tentacle-like legs it used to stand were pointed to. "-Can't rotate far enough to fire behind it. That said, the Oculi live up there, so the lack of overt defences like the ones on its face kind of ring hollow. Even if we jumped it from behind, it'd release those damn things and whip around on us."

"Do you know that?"

Shepard blinked, taken aback for the second time in as many minutes. "Beg pardon?"

"An assault from the rear" the Admiral clarified, intent. "Have you ever seen it done? Do you know the Reaper would react the way you said?"

"No Ma'm. I've never seen a direct from-the-rear assault of the kind we're talking about attempted on a Capital Ship. There're a lot of educated guesses and 'I don't knows' here, as I said before." Unsure whether she liked the interest in her mother's expression, she reverted to their bitty code and asked, "Something wet your palate?"

Something piqued your interest?

"A small thing..." Hannah replied, nodding slowly, thinking as she spoke. Her answer was without code or implication. It simply was what it was. "We need to do something about all of these 'don't knows', Commander."

Shepard inclined her head slightly, guardedly. "We do at that, but this is hardly the time to play safari and observe the bastards that're setting the galaxy alight."

"No one said anything about observations" Hannah corrected quickly. "Not of the type you're thinking of at least. I don't want to watch the damn things, I want to blow them out of the sky, and we need to get rid of all the 'don't know how's' around doing that."

"How?" the Commander asked, incredulous. "I've got two to my name, and with Sovereign I had an entire Fleet's-worth of firepower behind me. That's not exactly a record I'd plan to win a war on. Two out of what? Two thousand? Three? Ten?"

The Admiral shook her head, waving away the numbers. "We need to think bigger here. Like God said, outside of the Alliance."

"I agree. But where? To who? I think we'd have heard if any of the other races were having a field day in the Reaper-killing stakes. So far all I'm getting is panic, casualty reports, and orders from God to get boots on the ground in places that aren't Earth."

"Keep your nose down and ears sharp as you move those boots" Hannah advised, "You never know who might have what to spare these days. Ask around. See if you can find anyone who either has or wants to have the kind of kill-record we need. Anyone with a Reaper to their name. The entire galaxy's facing them now. There must have been some successful strikes against the sons-of-bitches, and we need the intel from each to better learn what works." Easing her tone then, she gave a little smile despite the severe topic and added, "And speaking of spares…apples, hm?" to both lighten the mood a hint and convey another little coded message.

It took a moment, but the Commander soon caught on. "They were soft" she said, returning the smile as it became clear that Admiral Lindholm, she who had provided her and her crew with four crates of apples before they made tracks to the Citadel, had been in touch with either her mother or someone who had passed along the tale to her. Whatever the truth of their communication was, what mattered was that it had occurred at all. The Fleet was slowly coming back to itself.

"They had a right to be" Hannah ribbed, enjoying the moment's levity. "They were almost a month old and just out of containment. I'm surprised they didn't poison you."

A resounding "HA!" echoed off the comm. room's walls as Shepard grinned mightily, if briefly. "If I can stomach bureaucracy enough to drown a Krogan, I can survive an Admiral's cast-offs. And to your suggestion, Ma'm" she said, getting back on track, "I have been and will be. If an opportunity comes along, I'll leap for it with both hands."

The Admiral nodded. "Make sure you do."

"Make sure you do."

Such was the parting instruction of one Karin Chakwas, over an hour after Admiral Shepard had given her presently comm. room-bound daughter the very same, to a slowly escaping Thane Krios. The man had been easing his way towards the Medical Bay's door for the past five minutes or so, looking for the perfect moment, the perfect break in the conversation held between himself, Karin and Doctor Pyral, to make a break for it, and now, with parting pleasantries exchanged and a hearty handshake given to the soon-to-be-departing Salarian, he saw his chance. He had a foot out the door when the good doctor spoke her final edict for the day, making him promise that he would take it easy for the duration of his stay aboard the Normandy, and after giving her his word that he would do just that and bowing deeply to both physicians, he turned, the door closing at his back, to face the empty mess.

Pausing to revel in the quiet, Thane took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, resonant, Drellish smile - one which is conveyed with the voice, not the lips. He had every right to his outwardly muted glee. His only pre-set task for the afternoon, barring returning himself to his rightful place in the quarters he and his Siha shared on the first floor, was over. He was free. His time, finally, was his own to do with what he pleased, and what he pleased at present...wasn't what one would assume to be his first choice for an activity, all things considered. He did not, in this very second, want to rush up to his quarters to reunite with his mate. He had a mind to make his way there, certainly, but there was something he had to investigate before he could make tracks; something he'd seen on his way to the Medical Bay that called out for his attention.

Giving the room a final glance to triple-check that it was as clear as it first appeared, Thane took to his heels and stole through the space briskly, stopping only when he faced the memorial erected on the wall facing the elevator's currently closed doors. Taller than he was and punctuated in its centre by the Alliance's symbol, it held two neat rows of name-plates in memory of the fallen. These plates ran from the memorial's very top to its very bottom, and he was pleased, as much as one can be pleased at all when faced with such a thing, to note two things about them as he looked them over. Firstly, only a comparatively small number of them had been inscribed with a name. And secondly, selfishly, he didn't recognise a single one he saw as being that of a personal acquaintance. For those blessings, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to Arashu, and for the departed, the unknown souls upon the wall before him, he would direct one to Kalahira, for it was she who would be concerned with them now. Clasping his hands before him, he lowered his head a fraction and directed his focus inwards.

Kalahira, Goddess of the endless depths, you have in your care now the souls of..

He began on the wall's left hand side, recounting each name.

Abishek Pakti

Alexei Dubyansky

Carlton Tucks

Charles Pressly

As his devotions went on, the hiss of a door opening on the other side of the mess caught Thane's attention. He made no move to halt his prayer, some things being more important to him than greeting every second person who stumbled upon him in a public place, but his training-honed senses picked up certain things about the unknown person without his having to focus on them.

The soft, swift click of low, practical heels led him to assume that they were both female and most certainly not his mate. She made wearing the things sound like such torture that he knew she would never willing don them, and to his knowledge she had no reason to put herself through that now. The stride-length brought him to the same conclusion - that this new person was not his mate. Her gait was purposeful and a hint slower, given her height, than the smaller, quicker steps of she who was making her way in his direction now.

His litany continued -

Germeen Barret

Harvey J. Gladstone

Helen M. Lowe

Jamin Bakari

- as did his guest's approach. She was closer now. He could hear faint, disgruntled murmurings in a distinctly feminine tone of voice. Something about numbers not adding up and comm. lines being difficult to crack. He tuned the words out, unwilling to devote time to them when he had a more important task to accomplish.

Mandira Rahman

Raymond Tanaka

Richard L. Jenkins

Robert Felawa

The walker rounded the corner between mess and walkway then, saying "EDI, I-" before her words died away with a gasp and Thane felt her eyes upon him. The fact that she lingered nearby neither surprised him, used as he was to receiving attention for being a member of 'that rare species' people seldom came across, nor deterred his attention from the wall. If she wanted to speak with him, she would wait. He would apologise for his preoccupation when he was finished with his prayer.

Addison Chase he recounted, beginning at the top of the right-most column now.

Amina Waaberi

Caroline Grenado

Hector Emerson

Kaidan Alenko

Words then that were not his. "It's a sad thing, isn't it? Having this here." He ignored them.

Marcus Greico

Monica Negulesco

Orden Laflamme

Rosamund Draven

Silas Crosby

Talitha Draven

Grant these souls the rest and succour their lives and honoured deaths have earned them. Let their peace be eternal, and their rewards great, and let their families find peace in the knowledge that their sacrifices were not in vain, and will never be forgotten.

His prayer complete, Thane straightened, relaxing his stance and finally canting his head towards the woman who had crossed the room to find him here. She had spoken to him, and politeness demanded an answer from him now that the Goddess and the fallen were not his chief concern.

"It is, yes" he agreed, taking in the fact that his guest was not obviously armed and was standing a respectful eight feet from him before he allowed himself to notice the youthfulness of her features and the freckles on her rounded blue cheeks. Here was an Asari who had barely entered the Maiden stage. She wore practical white and blue clothing that looked to be strengthened and reinforced in much the same way his work attire was, and was worrying the gloved fingers of her right hand with those of her left as she met his eyes. In his practised opinion, her posture and expression conveyed equal parts reserve and tightly controlled nervousness. Concerned by this, he drew breath to ease her, assuming that her apparent discomfort stemmed from the fact that she had been told of his coming and therefore knew of his reputation, but she spoke first -

"Welcome aboard Sere Krios. I had hoped to meet you prior to beginning our time as colleagues. I'm Liara T'Soni"

- and with that, his wonderings about her manner were put to rest. When last he had heard that name, it was on his Siha's lips; his Siha who, almost a year ago, had been shaking with rage as she recounted a stilted version of what had transpired between she and Liara earlier that day in the mess. Unwilling as she'd been to stress him while he was ailing and confined to the Medical Bay, she told him nothing of what had caused their altercation, or how she had managed to tear the skin on two of her knuckles during it, but the fact that it had happened, and that Liara had been summarily shipped back to her station on Hagalaz in the immediate aftermath, spoke volumes for the severity of what occurred.

It was no wonder therefore that the young woman seemed a hint edgy.

She was currently standing in a place that, not a year back, she had been cast out from.

Her words though interested Thane more than her manner. Referring to him as her colleague implied that she resided aboard the ship on at least a semi-permanent basis, which in turn implied that things between she and his mate had smoothed over in his absence. Undeniably curious, he resolved to investigate the matter further. "Liara" he greeted, moving his latent annoyance at her having upset his Siha so terribly to the back of his mind and offering her his hand. "I apologise for my inattention. Prayers for the departed must be given the time those we remember when giving them deserve. I am pleased to meet you."

"As I am you. Congratulations on your recovery" Liara replied, the worry fluttering in her belly easing only slightly at the man's cultured politeness and the steady but gentle pressure of his fingers around hers. She knew from her time working on Illium that such things were often representative of little other than a person's desire to appear inoffensive, and pressed on quickly with what, as of the moment she'd learned of his imminent arrival three or so days back, she wanted…no...needed...to discuss with him.

There was the potential for great unrest if she didn't handle things correctly.

"I don't mean to seem abrupt, Sere" she began, minding to use the respectful Drellish mode of address until she was sure of the safety of the interpersonal ground she was walking on with him, "but I wanted to make sure that there will be no friction between us. As I'm sure you know, when I visited the Normandy during your last tour the Commander and I had an...altercation. I don't want that to have spoiled what could be a fine working relationship before it has even had a chance to develop."

Hearing her, Thane perceived a new layer to their interaction - a layer that, when his Siha had told him of what had occurred between she and Liara, she had not shared and he had not noticed. It seemed as if whatever it was that had transpired had concerned him somehow. Even if he discarded what the young Asari had just said, which gave him cause enough to guardedly approach this conclusion, the evidence was as plain as day in her expression. The uncertainty. The...worry. The resignation to being judged for something that happened long ago in the heat of the moment when emotions were high. Such things are only present when the person you're speaking to has a personal stake in something you've done in the past that you aren't in the least bit proud of.

Probing then, he sought to test whether his deduction regarding his place in their long-past argument was sound. It could be, after all, that he had made a mistake in judgement; that Liara was simply trying to save face regarding what she saw as disreputable behaviour on her part during the moment in question, and that it had no personal significance to him at all. Going on her words and body language this was a slim possibility at best, but he had to be sure. "Why would that have caused friction between us?" he asked. "I was not present, and know very little about what transpired."

For a brief moment, an odd mixture of shock and relief flittered through the Asari's expression. It disappeared as she asked, "…How much, precisely?" in a careful, tentative way; affirming without needing to openly acknowledge the truth of his conclusion.

Had he not been a central factor in their disagreement, she would not have cared to ask.

"That it happened in the mess" he replied, glancing towards the area he spoke of, "and that the Commander was greatly shaken by it. Anything else, she did not deign appropriate to share with me."

Again, relief coloured Liara's expression. "I'll respect her discretion then" she said, sighing gratefully at the fact that the most...contentious parts of their disagreement had seemingly been left unsaid. "And extend my apologies regardless. It was a…fraught…time for both of us. We were not at our best."

"For whatever occurred, I accept the apology" Thane assured her, noting then with a mind to sate the curiosity that her talk of being 'colleagues' had lit in him earlier, "but I must wonder...I recall her anger vividly-"

Liara smothered a wince. "As do I."

"-And yet, and I mean this in by no means an intemperate manner, you are stationed aboard her ship. Are things now settled between you? You seemed so concerned by the thought of my potential anger that I wonder...if they are not."

Giving a soft huff at the man's insight, the young doctor shook her head. "I joined the Normandy when the Commander went to Mars to locate a piece of Prothean data. I had already located it, and was being chased down by Cerberus when she arrived. Our reunion was..." She glanced around quickly, unwilling to share this if anyone else was passing by. At the hall's emptiness and the silence from the mess, she went on. "She was completely professional, and she has been ever since."

Trying to square the emotionally haggard woman in his memories with the cool, professional one Liara described, Thane prompted, "That is surely a good thing."

The Asari frowned slightly, caught between nodding and shaking her head. "I remember her from our first tour together" she said almost wistfully. "Before Cerberus and the Collectors...Illium and...well...everything. She was...different. I was a little in awe of her, and we became close friends. I got used to the warmth of her company, and now..." She shook her head. "It's gone."

At the regret in her voice, Thane wished he could speak words of comfort to her. Something like, 'She doesn't mean it' or, 'Give her time and she will warm to you again', but he didn't feel that he could say such things and remain honest. He knew as well as Shepard herself did that she meant every inch of every interaction she was involved in, and if distance was what she wanted, distance was what she'd have. And he knew further that, in this instance, time was an unlikely healer. Patient and forgiving as she was, the woman didn't forget betrayals, and from the way Liara spoke of their past relationship, the altercation they'd had must have felt like one of immense proportions if it earned from her the reaction it did.

"I am...unsure whether you would accept my counsel on this" he finally put in, his words careful. "But if you would-"

"I would" Liara replied. "Shepard values it over any other's and, much as we don't see eye-to-eye as we did once, I trust her judgement."

The oddly knowing undertone to that statement pricked Thane's interest, diverting his mind from his offer of advice to something much more pressing. "You know this?" he asked, wondering how this woman he had neither met nor worked with in the past knew of how his Siha favoured him as a confidant.

Although it was meant to be disarming, and was spoken through a little smile, her reply- "I am a very good Information Broker, Sere"- turned his blood to ice. The fact that she had once worked in the information trade was not new to him. His mate had spoken of her warmly after seeing her on Illium early in their mission, and he had thought little else of her until Shepard told him of their confrontation in the mess. Today however, now, with the first seven of the eight words she had just spoken, everything changed.

The casual flippancy she showed as she spoke in a manner which implied that she knew quite how well he and the Commander were acquainted was not something he could stomach; not while she was happy, in the same breath, to call herself an 'Information Broker'. An Information Broker - that which he knew Liara had replaced after their mission to Hagalaz and who had, as she seemed to have done, gained access to information about him and those close to him - had once cost him his world and that, he concluded as he stared quite pointedly into the woman's eyes, would not be allowed to happen again. If she remained trustworthy in his eyes, she would remain on the ship. If not, his unique appreciation of great loss, security and protectiveness demanded that she be dealt with before harm could come to him and his.

It was nothing in the least bit personal.

It was simply the way things had to be.

Blinking himself free of his machinations, he consciously warmed his demeanour a hint and eased back into their conversation as if nothing had occurred to him in the second or two of silence that had passed since she spoke. "I've no doubt that you are" he said, before diverting their conversation back onto the advice he had thought to give her. "And as to the Commander, try not to trouble yourself with thoughts of what has been lost. Think instead of what you still have with her." What he asked her next seemed honestly curious, but was actually entirely contrived as a way through which he could estimate the depth of his mate's trust in the Asari. "She still seeks your counsel, yes?"

Liara nodded. "Yes"

"And she has taken you out on missions with her?"

"A few, yes."

"And on those, she has responded appropriately to the situations you faced and done her duty as your commanding officer?"

Again, she nodded. "She has."

Thane tipped his head a thoughtful degree to the right, considering her answers and what they meant in terms of whether or not the Commander had worried, or did worry, the way he did. His true answer would come later, when he sat the woman down and flat-out asked her to justify in at least two ways why he shouldn't take up keeping an assassin's eye on the Asari as a secondary occupation, but for now, on the evidence, he'd say she was treating her in much the way Liara had said she was; with professional courtesy and with a mind to her strengths as a source of hard-to-come-by information.

"That is the true test of her regard for you, I think" he concluded, returning the nod. Taking a half-step back then, he added a courteous, "Please don't let me keep you any longer, Liara. We shall speak again soon, I'm sure" and with that he turned and made for the elevator, newly intent on getting to his quarters and away from she who had caused him such unintentional yet piercing unease.

In his wake Liara, slightly fuddled by his swift departure but otherwise relieved, heaved a sigh and allowed herself a private smile. In her mind, everything had gone about as swimmingly as it could have, given the circumstances.

In Thane's..this was not so.

Back on Deck two, the meeting between Commander and Admiral Shepard had long since roared into full swing. Points and counterpoints had been made and were still to be made, and they were triangulating on something like what might be called an 'idea' which would, if judged to be workable in the court of their combined experience, form a part of the overall tentative plan that had begun to take shape between them. Whether or not the current topic of conversation would turn into a workable part of said plan…

Well…

"Three words Ma'm" Shepard said, holding up a finger as she reeled each off, "Tactical. Orbital. Strike."

Hannah scoffed. "I hope you're joking. I'm not risking the Orizaba for a bombing run, and besides, it'd never work unless you were engaging the thing on the ground at the same time. Keeping it grounded while we lined up the shot. Also, the risk of collateral damage from firing a ferrous slug TOWARDS A PLANET would be...well it wouldn't just be a risk Commander. It'd be a certainty. There must be another way."

They were talking about a smaller kind of Reaper in place of the Capital Ships they'd been focused on before - a 'Destroyer' it was called - and were running simulations on possible methods of engaging one in combat. Not that either of them entertained notions of seeking one out to do just that, but it paid to be prepared.

That was their plan.

To prepare themselves and anyone else who'd listen to them. To seek out those who had intel on destroying Reapers, to get word of the need for options that weren't the Crucible out there, and to hunt around to see if any such options presented themselves. If they did, they'd convene another meeting just like this one and rake the ideas over carefully to weigh their merits, and if those outweighed the risks...hell…there might be some fieldwork to be done.

"I don't know..." Shepard interjected, grinning widely enough to show her teeth. Serious as things were, she was enjoying this. "You do have other guns aboard that thing, and if you look here.." she pointed to the latest line of attack highlighted on the hologram, and was drawing breath to elaborate on the idea she was in the process of sharing when a strident BLIP cut her off. Hannah blinked, leaning forward a little as the Commander turned suddenly sheepish.

"What was that?"

"Just a message on the Tool Ma'm" she said, gesturing to her Omni-tool. "It's nothing, let's carry o-"

"Give it a glance at least" she advised. "It'll drive you up the wall otherwise. It would me, not knowing what'd been sent."

"But t-"

"You're wasting time."

Shepard needed no more telling. Although she'd fussed, she was glad of the woman's insistence. They both knew the importance of keeping on top of the mail in times of war, each message having the potential to be game-changing, and she'd been right about the not knowing too.

With quick fingers, she opened up the Tool's user interface and accessed the message.

'Commander' it read, 'Come down to Medbay when you have a moment. There's nothing wrong. I'd just like to have a quick chat. He's a damned miracle. - Chakwas.'

She stared at the thing for what felt like a lifetime - the utter DREAD she felt at being asked for in the Medical Bay so soon after her mate had boarded easing slightly at the phrase 'There's nothing wrong' - as the fact that she'd have to go down there before going back up to her quarters sank in. If she didn't, the need to know what she'd been called down for would be hanging over her all evening, and she wasn't going to risk the doctor calling again when she was even less inclined, due to sharing Thane's company, to go and see her than she was now.

A tense second passed in which the Commander wasn't sure if she could speak again without colouring the air blue with frustrated cursing...but then…slowly, carefully, methodically and with exacting self-control, she minimised the message window and turned back to her mother's now curiously watchful hologram. Then, she let out a slow breath, willed the tightness in her posture to relax into something like what it had been earlier in their talk, and shoved thoughts of having to spend even longer outside of her mate's company away.

She would see him later. There was nothing to worry about. There was work still to do.

"Now then" she managed, forcing her voice into something resembling calm. "Where were we?"

Both amused and bemused by her daughter's sudden turn, Hannah quirked a brow and refocused on the Destroyer and their latest proposed strategy to engage it. Whatever had got the woman's goat would have to wait. There was a great deal more to discuss.

As the Commander's day grew lengthier with the receipt of the good doctor's message, Thane's found him travelling up to Deck one, brooding over the meeting that had just occurred by the memorial. In his rapidly ascending metal box, he gave a derisory, disquieted grumble. It seemed he was unable to have even ten short minutes of free time without running into something that required professional attention from him. He couldn't help wondering, as the elevator whisked him on his way, whether the keenness of his training and his innately suspicious nature were more burden than benefit at times like these. Times when, really speaking, all he wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm and comfortable with his mate and show her, quite thoroughly and with due reverence, how much he had missed her.

The thought of doing just that quickening him, he filed away his suspicions about the Shadow Broker - for that was who Liara now was in his mind, she had no other label - for later and stepped through the lift's doors as soon as they opened out onto the small corridor that prefaced the Captain's quarters. He covered the distance between the elevator and his destination in three long strides, and was greeted as he entered the room by a wall of warm air and an equally tangible, equally welcoming flash of memories; fragments from different points in time drawing him further inside.

-'You're here!' she says, greeting me as I step into the room. Her hands extend, reaching for me for a brief, brave moment before they fall away to her sides. The pulse in her throat is hard enough that I see it racing. I can empathise with her nerves. Demure and chaste as it is and must be for both our comforts, this is the first time she and I have sought each other out for what might clumsily be called a 'date'. My heart is racing also. 'I've made tea' she says, her cheeks flushing pink as she speaks. 'Come on in. I'll pour.'-

As he moved forward at the memory's behest, another came; the image of Amial smiling shyly at him and inviting him in being overlaid and then replaced by another from a later juncture.

-She turns from me and walks towards the stairs, quite aware, if her gait is anything to go by, of how my eyes have begun lingering on her form more openly these past weeks. Through all of our differences, she is a fine woman; Drellishly feminine in certain, specific...strikingly alluring ways. The slender neck; the sight and feeling, I recall, of her muscles, firm beneath her skin; and the tell-tale sway of her hips and rear. I follow. I find cannot not.-

Coming to a stop by her desk, his right hand resting upon it lightly, Thane blinked himself free of the sight of his mate and her gently swaying hips and drew himself back into the here and now. Part of him half expected her to be standing before him in the flesh...his memories having in the past lead him into her arms without a lick of conscious effort on his part...but when he found that she was not, and indeed seemed not to have even registered his presence if the lack of any kind of greeting was anything to go by, he looked around and took in the room; intent on seeking her out.

Dim-lit and quiet, with boxes dotted by the door and his cases in the sleeping area, the place looked as though a whirlwind of activity had torn through, only to be ousted before it could finish its task. "Siha?" he called, wondering where his usually militarily neat mate had disappeared to so hurriedly as to abandon the room in such a state.

No answer. Even EDI, all-knowing, all-seeing EDI was silent, as if her mind was otherwise occupied.

"Siha?" he tried again, glancing with a keen eye around the room in search of her. Again he got no answer, and he was turning, concerned by her seemingly unexplained absence, to check if the washroom's lock was engaged - her being indisposed within as sure a reason as any for her not to answer his calls - when a slip of paper upon the desk, her once-left note, caught his eye. Reading it, taking in the familiar hand it was written in, the mention of an incoming call she had taken in the comm. room and the request she'd made of him - 'Make yourself at home' - he felt himself relax. It was work that had intruded, nothing more sinister than that. Nothing threatening or needful of his pointed, swift interference. Nothing that would unseat the too-good-to-be-true truth of their situation. Nothing that would part them again.

Just work.

Settled by that knowledge, Thane set his mind to doing precisely what his mate had requested of him. He put the note back down where he'd found it, turned to the small interface on the wall beside the stairs, and increased the ambient temperature by another half-degree before making his way down into the room's designating sleeping area to neaten the place up. It was unlike both he and his Siha to tolerate disorder of this magnitude for any longer than absolutely necessary, and that moment had passed when he was assured of her safety and free to pursue thoughts other than those which centred on ensuring that very thing.

When he got down there however, and allowed himself to actually look the place over aesthetically instead of seeking out signs of his mate's presence, he found himself given great pause. Yes, the place was a hint on the mussed side, but that fact dimmed into nothingness at the sight of it; their bed, made the way it had been on his last trip into this room; white duvet and pillows giving way to the rich blueish-purple of their blanket. He grit his teeth against the memory of that day, of him wheezing with the effort of hefting the thing and packing it away for his trip to the hospital, of the pain in his chest and the taste of blood in his mouth, and instead turned away from it and drew to the fore, with a deep breath as defiant punctuation, a far more pleasant one.

- We are sitting beside one another on the divan, a random talking head on the news channel that cycles away to itself on the open screen of the Omni-tool sat between our mugs of tea on the low table before us. The whispery feeling of her breath against my cheek tells me that, as distracted from the broadcast as I am by her, she is by me. She has been studying my profile for some time now. I am curious of her intent.

'Siha?' I ask, beginning to turn to her when her fingers, light and respectful, stop me. They land upon my jaw, closer to my chin than my throat, and fan out slowly as I still.

'I'm looking' she says, anticipating my question…'What preoccupies you so?'...before I speak it. I do wonder sometimes, if we are of the same mind, she and I.

'May I ask at what?'

Her breath comes a little more warmly now. She has shifted closer. 'I've found a pleat that's not like the others on your cheeks. It's close to your frill. Near the underside, but not quite under it exactly. About the width of my smallest finger from it. Why's it different?'

My lips quirk slightly in a smile, and I feel her fingers move from my jaw towards the source of her interest. There was once a time when I would have murmured a cautionary, 'Gently please' at such a move, but now she needs no telling. The tip of her index finger strokes lightly across the mentioned pleat, and she asks, 'What've I found here?'

I turn to her, my smile warming a hint at the curiosity in her face as I say, 'That would be my left ear.'

'No kidding...' she exclaims, seeking her find again, leaning a little and guiding my head around to the side so that she might see. When next she speaks, her voice is purposefully soft, respectful of her proximity to the place in question. 'It's tiny...' she observes, the pad of her thumb tracing over the very arch of my frill - the area just above my ear, '...and really well protected by this here.'

Again, as I have with increasing frequency when sharing her company, I smile. 'Nature is wise, yes?'

Her touch changes slightly, from curious and respectful to almost reverent. 'I'll say...' she says. 'I'll say.' -

As the remembered warmth of his mate's touch upon his frill faded, Thane found himself settled on the edge of their bed, his gaze fixed on the area in which the scene that had just played out behind his eyes had occurred. For a fleeting moment, the remnants of the memory overlapped reality, the Omni-tool and their mugs visible to him before they properly dispersed and were replaced by…By a…

What on all of Kahje…

He blinked, focussing on what he now saw; on the conical lid and deep base of what appeared to be a sand heater. Rising from his perch, he approached the object, crouching beside the table it sat upon and reaching for it with careful hands. As he took in its sight - matte black and finely crafted - and the sight of the assorted items around it - ladles and pots of what he recognised as sand, a rolled, woven bathing mat and brushes of at least four kinds - a new memory came..

- '..I can think of nothing I desire more' I say, 'than locking the door behind me.. ..taking a long bath..'

'A Drellish one?' she asks, adding, 'With warm sand and a hot cloth?'

Her insight humbles me as much as it surprises me. 'That very kind' I say. -

..and with its passing, as the import of his find became clear to him, he gave an exclamation that to human ears would have sounded like a deep cough, but to Drellish ones was his recently regained training-muted tell for shocked joy.

"That dear, dear woman.." he breathed, shaking his head as he explored the panoply before him; touching and testing each piece - from the bristles on the brushes, to the quality and thickness of the bathing mat, to the fineness of each type of sand and the depth of the sand heater's base. Only once his curiosity was satisfied did he sit back on his heels, agog.

Quite suddenly and without preamble, he was unsure of what he should do with himself.

As he saw it, he had three options. First, he could leave the treasures he had come upon alone and make sure, when she returned, that his Siha enjoyed them with him. This course's greatest appeal was that it would directly involve her, but waiting for her return would also delay the opportunity he now had to rid himself of eight months of accumulated 'hospital' scent, and to relieve a little of the stress that went along with his protracted illness and hospitalisation.

It wouldn't work miracles, certainly - there is only so much a hot bath can do for a gentleman - but it would be a wonderful, decadent start.

Option two on the other hand didn't concern the bathing materials. Option two was suggested by that small part of him that was frankly exhausted, both by the events of the day and by, again, his illness and his slow, challenging, still progressing recovery; that part of him that wanted on an instinctual level to curl up in a place he felt safe and simply sleep. For that purpose, the blanket on the bed was ready and waiting - indeed it frankly called to him - but retiring at…What was it now?

He glanced towards the clock on the bedside table.

..[16:56]..

It was so early an hour that retiring now felt like a waste of the perfectly good time he now had to enjoy his day with, and that brought him to option three. After neatening the room up to his exacting standards, he could have his bath, taking his time and really savouring the experience, and then, if his Siha did not return in time to potentially assist him with that, he could retire to bed for a doze and a relax in preparation for her return. Looking between blanket and bathing materials, Thane breathed through a low, resonant exclamation of contentment at his situation. Truly, the choice was foregone.

Why would a man pick between luxuries when he was at liberty to have both?

Another full hour would pass before Commander Shepard, tentative plans in hand, bid goodbye to her mother and closed the link to the Orizaba. Stepping away from the console, she rubbed her eyes and groaned deeply. They had covered everything from possible tactics in combat situations to potential allies and steadfast foes; from the threat posed by Cerberus to the pros and cons of directly engaging Reapers with small ground teams and a lot of heavy, preferably ship-borne, artillery. Mentally exhausted didn't even begin to cover what she felt, and that was without taking account of the concept, the thought, the postulation that the Admiral had left her to stew over.

"What've we got that they don't, Commander?" she'd asked as they wound up.

A thousand possibilities ran through her mind in a blink, but none were worthy of bringing up in serious conversation. "Not a clue Ma'm. What've we got that they don't?"

The Admiral leant forward slightly as she spoke, impressing the gravity of her message with that muted three inch movement. "Hearts and minds" she said.

Shepard blinked. "What good does that-" she tried, but her mother was faster.

"You listen to me. That stunt you pulled through the Omega 4? Don't look so shocked, I'd have to be deaf and blind not to catch wind of that through the grapevine, and even then I'd likely not have missed it. Don't forget who I am to you." She waved off the Commander's frown and went on. "Without hearts and minds, that stunt would've been suicide. God himself told me that. Without having the trust of the people you took with you, you would've lost them all. The way I hear it…how many did you lose?"

The question was rhetorical, but Shepard answered regardless and with no small hint of private personal pride. "None, Ma'm."

"Precisely. Now I'm not saying that we'll win the day with hearts and minds alone. I've been in the military longer than you've been alive and I damn well know better. But." She punctuated the word with a sharp point, jabbing a finger towards the Commander. "It's that kind of strength that's needed now, so as you're doing your shopping and ticking off items on the list you've got, keep that in mind. We, us, you, have the chance to bring the galaxy together to face the biggest threat it's ever going to. God's got the right idea, but he's so wound up with the ornament that he's like a skipped stone."

"Just skimming the surface-" Shepard put in, nodding slowly. It was nothing like an indictment against Admiral Hackett to point out that he was stretched so thin and bent over so far backwards trying to get the Crucible built that his focus was on doing just that, not on the intricacies of galactic unity or on reaching for the hearts and minds of the peoples he wanted to help in getting the job done. For that, she mused as she rubbed at her temples in the here and now, he had her - and perhaps her mother too, and others - if only she could find them and coordinate them and…

And…

She glanced at her Omni-tool's chronometer.

..[17:58]..

..Ugh..

And now it was time for her to stop thinking about all that, file the data she'd collected and thoughts she had away for later, and hustle down to Medbay to see to Chakwas before finally…finally…heading upstairs and welcoming Thane home in the most full and proper manner possible. She was damn sure, unless the doctors had abducted the poor Drell and her being called down was some kind of ransoming off of the prisoner-patient-crewperson thing, that he'd have made it back by now, and she knew with just as much certainty that there was nowhere on Earth or Heaven that she'd rather be right this second than buried in his embrace.

Deactivating the protective shields she'd erected at the beginning of her meeting, Shepard trudged back through the War Room, past a pensive, tense looking Primarch Victus and on into the CIC. The quicker she got her last and final chore of the day done, the quicker she could get home and show Thane the utter and complete extent to which she loved him.

A/N two, the sequel: The...issue Liara and Shepard have in this story is inspired by in-game ME2 canon. I'm not using it in the same way it's presented in game, but it struck such a chord with me that I couldn't not include it. All will become clear in time. For now, I do hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Many thanks for reading.

L.G

And now!

Coming in the next chapter

A story is shared

Shepard learns to share a little