She had a wonderful dream, one with fantastical possibility. Her eyes were closed, not quite alert enough to wake, yet not quite fatigued enough to sleep, either. Her lips curled upwards at each corner as images of the dream passed by behind closed eyelids, recalling what showed in the theater of her mind the night before.

There was a soft drink in one hand and a datapad in the other, which displayed the enjoyable words of a good book rather than the grueling numbers of engine reports. She was laying down on a beach chair that sat upon a balcony, watching an ocean of Rannoch lapping at a desert shore. Her raven black hair was free from its metal prison and flowed freely in a breeze that whipped through short trees and carried song-filled seabirds across the sky. And she wore nothing more than a purple bikini designed with her clan patterns.

It was almost paradise. It just needed—

Another image presented itself, and she saw her human off in the distance, running through the sand. How nice it was to see her bondmate, correction, lifemate, finally enjoying himself.

Then the image flickered, adding something new to the scene. It caught her off-guard. There were two small children with her human, playing with him. She couldn't make out whether they were human or quarian, but with the way they swarmed her lifemate, something told her that it didn't matter either way.

It hadn't been something she even considered due to its sheer improbability, if not an impossibility. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn't really mind the idea. Raising children with the love of her life would be nice. Of course, that was only if he wanted to. It was just an option, after all.

A small giggle erupted from her as she saw her lifemate sprint into the ocean with the children following after, splashing water and throwing wet balls of sand. And at that moment, she hoped that he would want to.

She let them play for a little while as she finished up her drink and shut off her datapad. After making sure everything was in place, she stood up and called out across the beach. The words that left her mouth surprised her.

"Come along kids! If we go home now, you might get some dessert with your dinner!"

A small fluttering sensation echoed from her chest as the kids answered back, "Okay, mom!" And soon after was followed by, "Yes, ma'am!" from her lifemate. Their voices were clear as crystal.

The images flashed again and suddenly all four of them were walking down a dirt road. On either side of them was beautiful flourishing plant life in the form of colorful bushes and cacti. And somewhere along their journey, her lifemate had stopped them. He hunched down on the side of the road with the two kids nearby, repeating their father's sounds of intrigue.

As she approached, her human pushed himself up and turned around to reveal a bigger smile on his face and a small plant in between his fingers. A purple rose.

She could almost feel it. She studied it so closely that she had hardly realized the trip had been over and that they were inside their house by the time she looked up again. Shepard had provided the glass of water to put the rose into and she went to work on cooking. Surprisingly, Shepard was right next to her helping. She never realized that he could cook.

Together, they worked on their conglomerate mix of Levo and Dextro-based foods. It smelled heavenly. She could almost taste it. The kids definitely enjoyed it, though. She still couldn't quite make out their features, but their sounds of delightful smacking were more than enough of an answer.

Night came, and she and her lifemate tucked the kids into their beds. Shepard told them stories about their miraculous war victories which were followed by her sweet songs of old quarian lullabies. When they were finally asleep, she and Shepard would finally bed down for the night themselves, tangled in each other's limbs.

Now it was paradise.

She fully awoke before their lips could meet.

Air brushed across her face as she struggled to lift her eyelids. Her arm moved over to John's side of the bed, only to find it empty. She groaned and perked her ears, expecting to hear sounds of rushing water coming from the bathroom. There was only silence. Confused, she lifted her head to look around the dimly lit room; the only source of light came from the aquarium built into the wall.

Now, where is the human?

She threw herself upwards from the bed, planning to get ready to go seek him.

Perhaps he got up a little early. Bless him, he should've woken me up!

After throwing her legs over the bed, she found that her boots were already on.

Hm?

The last vestiges of her dream began to fade. A strange point of impact on the wall attracted her attention. Leading down to the floor, she found her empty helmet surrounded by purple shards of glass.

In an instant, everything flooded back and her fantastical dream evaporated. The tears came just as fast as when she faced the Memorial Wall the night prior. And to beat that sense of getting the wind knocked out of her, she threw herself back into the bed and curled among the sheets, wishing that she could sink straight through them.

They were cold. All of its warmth was sapped away as if it realized that its original owner wasn't ever coming back. And without its owner, what purpose did it have?

She wanted to die in them. She wanted her heart to physically break and result in her death. She had heard it was possible for humans, why not for quarians?

The voice in Tali's head crudely mimicked the inflection of a teacher's voice as it proposed a theory:

Perhaps it's because our internal organs evolved physically stronger to make up for our stupid immune systems.

The probability in her theory led her to unjustly deal more tear-soaking punishment to the pillows and mentally scream khelish curses. For several minutes after, she would continue to give everything she had left to them until her eyes ached and her body tingled with numbness. Her tears had dried, and her sobbing transitioned to hiccups and coughing.

She would stay in the damp bed for several minutes longer as she slowly attempted to pick up the pieces of her sanity. She no longer wanted to think; her only thoughts left were how much she no longer wanted to exist.

Perhaps she could drown them out with her work in Engineering. As an engineer, at least there were some things she could fix. Nothing that really mattered. But still, at least some things.

Engineers fix machines. Doctors fix people…And the presence of selfless human commanders fixes stupid quarian admirals.

She was already out of bed and halfway towards her helmet when she was reminded of her broken mask. She looked over the shards of glass as her tongue ran dry over her now-canceled plans. There was no anger left in her system. Just bitter disappointment in herself.

A stupid bosh'tet of an admiral I am. Can't even kill myself with work.

Not wanting to return to the bed, she tore herself to the small office space above where Shepard's terminal sat along his vast collection of model ships. Her gloved finger trailed the desktop, picking up dust from the lack of use.

She could try to get help from the crew or wait for one of them to drop by—Or she could ignore that idea entirely and allow herself to die slowly in the cabin.

Considering that her friends had falsely reassured her of her bondmate's survival during the battle for Earth, and then unceremoniously brought his service upon her after a few weeks of dodging her questions, the latter seemed like a no-brainer.

They said he would be okay and held that he was not…thanks a lot, guys.

As embittered as her thoughts were, they have been pushed aside when Shepard's terminal suddenly started blinking. With a sigh, she turned in the seat and tapped out the password that Shepard had given her.

A flash of memory surfaced. She missed the days right after they had conquered the collector base. Shepard and her would spend every moment they could just hanging out, and oftentimes they would use the terminal to surf the extranet or watch vids. A sliver of the corner of her mouth twitched upwards at the memory.

And it shot back down just as fast as she saw what was on the display screen.

Message Auto Send: Delivered

Shepard's face flashed on the screen to greet her, causing her to reel back and gasp. He was moving, slowly, in the same seat that she was in now. He looked so…alive.

Somewhat, his head was hung low, and there was a pensive sense of uncertainty about him. Sitting in one hand was a strange-looking gun with a needle-thin barrel. He lifted it to his wrist, and Tali winced as he pulled the trigger.

There was a sharp hissing noise as the injection occurred, followed by Shepard's own hiss of pain that led to him shaking his arm for a sense of relief. After several moments of relaxing the muscles—being deep in thought—he finally spoke.

Tali listened in sweet agony to his voice. Even when warped by the terminal's speakers, it sounded like heaven to her. It was good to hear it again.

"Schedule message for when pulse readings flatline. Erase message if pulse readings remain active after a few weeks."

The first sentence alone was enough to bring pressure to well up behind her eyes once more.

"Message scheduled," came another lost voice: EDI's.

"Begin message."

"Already recording."

"...Oh."

John's hand raised and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Releasing a sigh, his eyes looked up and pierced the camera. His past eyes concentrated on it, peering deep into Tali's present ones. It was almost as if he was still here.

"Ah…hey Tali. Since you're seeing this, then what happened…happened. I lost. I…died."

Her breath caught in her throat. Even John seemed in disbelief.

"I never expected to do one of these. Seems pretty clichéd. But I had to think of all the options. And if this is the outcome, well, then I'm happy that you made it. I wouldn't be able to live with myself otherwise.

"Now, before I start my goodbye rant, I just wanted to tell you first that I love you, and always will. Nothing will change that. I don't know where you're at right now, but I hope you're okay."

Tali made a sound equivalent to a scoffing chuckle. Of course, she wasn't. But it was still heartwarming to hear. She smiled softly as the John of the past paused his words to think.

"Right now we're about to send the fleets to Earth. And right now I can't help but feel like I'm not going to make it out of this one. I won't lie to you…I'm terrified.

"I don't know if this is what people call fate or destiny or whatever, but it just seems—feels like it's meant to happen. Too many people sacrificed for me to get this far and…for as long as I'm alive, I won't be able to repay them. I should have stayed dead years ago. But I'm too lucky…and I'm lucky to have met you."

John's voice was cracking now, it caused Tali's face to flush with cold.

"You are one of the core reasons why I'm still alive, in every sense of the word. I can't count how many times you pulled my ass from the fire. Heh, all those fun, scary times we had…I—I could've lost you so many times.

"And, if you are watching this, then I guess I finally did lose you…And for that, I'm so, so, truly, very, sorry. I know you're probably struggling but…I want you to know that life goes on. It's not what you wanted, hell, it's not what I wanted, either. But it's the best I could do."

John made a deep and depressive sigh, looking for the rest of the words he wanted to say.

"If what happens, happens, then I want to be able to say in some capacity that I truly wanted to become your lifemate, and even now I still pray that I can. But again, I'm dead in this scenario, so…I don't know.

"Um, Tali, I know I made a lot of promises to you. But this time I would need you to make a promise to me. Build our house on Rannoch however you want and wherever you want it. Promise me that you will at least try to live happily and peacefully. Know that I'm with you, always.

"It's…strange to think about the possibility of death like this. I actually have felt like I went somewhere those two years when I first died. I guess I might have to go refresh my memory if I get unlucky on this mission. And I'm rambling again, sorry.

"Back to what I'm trying to say. Um, after the house, I have one last thing for you. A gift, really. Um, I'm not sure if it is something that you would like or something that I should've done to begin with. But it is something that I managed to make possible after we assaulted the Cerberus base. I know it's a bit of a rough spot for you, but I'm hoping it will help you in some way in the event that I do die. I mean, I could've used it on myself technically, but that's selfish and would've been rendered useless if I got blown to smithereens or something.

"Eh, anyway. When you're fully settled on Rannoch, ask the geth for progress on Project: Bitter Cup. But keep in mind that I don't want you to see it until it's complete. Hopefully it'll help you while I'm gone."

John shook his head in foreseen disbelief. And while throughout the message he had broken eye contact a few times, it was the first time he had moved his head away from the screen. He sighed as he took in the cabin as if it was the last time he would ever see it.

"I'm not sure how to end this so I guess I'll just keep it simple…Goodbye, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. I'll be looking down, and I will always love you forever. Keelah Se'lai."

With that, he raised an arm and cut the message.

Tali's eyes were river streams. Steady tears washed over her cheeks once again. But at least this time she was free to brush them away with the tips of her gloved fingers without the mask in the way. For an idle second, she wondered how she had accumulated so much water in her system. Then again, according to the rest of the galaxy, quarians were more emotionally attached than most species.

They didn't have the term lifemate for nothing. John said that he had wanted to become her lifemate, and even though they couldn't have the chance for a bonding ceremony, she accepted that they were now intertwined. She wouldn't take another lifemate. If she had to live alone for the rest of her days, then so be it.

Grief had flooded her veins once more. This time, she met it head-on, wanting to feel every bit of it all; all the misery until she was drained and left as an empty shell, leaving her with nothing left. She would feel hers and John's grief for him, as he couldn't feel it for himself.

Tali sighed, she never asked John if he believed in anything like their ancestral spirits, but she knew that they had gained a great addition to their ranks.

A silent prayer was sent to them, hoping that her human was somewhere there. She stayed sitting for a few moments until a loud crack of the intercom made her jump.

"Good morning, Tali," came Joker's voice.

"Oh, good morning, Joker," she hiccupped in response, hurriedly wiping away the rest of her tears.

"Um, hey…"

He trailed off slightly, causing Tali to perk an unamused brow.

"...Look…I know it's been rough. But…I'm begging for your help here."

She swallowed her scoff. She could think of plenty of other things she would rather do after what she had witnessed, like returning to her bedded grave.

"What do you need?"

"I have something that could bring EDI back, I think. She asked me to get it to you before she was…rendered inactive. If you could, I'd like for you to look at it."

Despite feeling proven that mourning EDI was premature, there was a small, warm buzz in Tali's chest. Anything that could help distract herself. But then she remembered her broken mask and its pieces scattered on the floor.

"Joker, I'd love to, but I have sort of…broken my visor. I can't leave the cabin."

"How'd that happen?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Well…um, alright, then…I'll just have someone bring it up to you."

"Could you have them bring up some kind of glass repair?"

"Roger Wilco."

"What?"

"Nothing. Be careful, Tali."

The conversation felt too awkwardly curt for her liking. She was still sitting at the terminal and found herself debating whether to take a shower before Joker's package arrived with the glass repair kit. It could arrive at any moment, so she opted to stay and wait for the sound of the elevator.

It was fifteen minutes before the whirs of moving metal arrived at her doorstep, and she grumbled at the thought that she could've taken a comfortable shower within that time.

As she sat up to reach for the door, a brush of air reminded her of the scarce cover over her face. She reached around her neck and pulled her hood as far as she could over her head, limiting her field of view to her feet. She also unfurled the fabric around her leg to be used as a mask.

With her face mostly covered, and her vision severely impeded, she flung her hand out loosely like a drunk and managed to grab the activation lock for the door. It swooshed open, and the voice she least wanted to hear spoke.

"Hey, got those things you wanted," Garrus said, failing to stifle a modest chuckle.

"Give it here," she snapped, holding out an arm.

There was an odd ring-like structure with a heavy weight on the bottom that went over her arm, alongside what felt like metal sticks and a flat rectangle tucked into her hand. She turned around and snuck a peek at the table so she could set the items down.

"That's all?" she asked tersely.

"Tali, I really wanted to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about," she scoffed. "Is that all?"

"There's actually a lot for us to talk about," Garrus replied, paying no mind to her tone.

What a dense bosh'tet!

"You know, I want to be able to take a shower, and then get back to work. And I can't do that while you are here," she said, pointing at the mess of fabric over her head.

Garrus made no attempt to leave. Instead, his voice seemed to remain antagonistically nonchalant.

"I know you only show your face to those you trust…do you trust me?"

The question sparked a surge of rage as she spun around and marched up to the sound of his voice, a finger pointing in his direction.

"Actually, Garrus, I don't! Did you even bother using the decontamination chamber before I let you in here?"

"I…"

A crack.

"Did you forget that the whole face covering thing isn't just about 'trust?' I don't care if you're a lying turian bosh'tet. Your germs can kill me. Now leave!"

"I—I didn't lie—"

"Lying by omission! Now get out!" she shouted, pushing him clumsily out the door.

"Tali—"

She grasped for the lock that created the door between them. Only after checking that it was fully closed did she pull her hood away from her flushed face.

The short burst of adrenaline had left her spine shaking, leaving her leaning back on the door for support.

"Tali, please. I only want to talk," Garrus said, his voice struggling through the door. "I want to…apologize."

Leave me alone!

"Little late for that, don't you think?!" Tali bit.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a sound of another back slumping down on the other side of the door. She rolled her eyes, waiting for some half-baked explanation.

Instead, she received the sound of defeat.

"I know…and I have no excuse for that. It's just…"

"Garrus. What reason do you have for doing this right now?"

"I just wanted to say that I get it. You're hurting, and trust me, I'm hurting, too. The whole crew is. But I know you're taking it the hardest."

"Understatement of the entire cycle!" she shouted, pressing her mouth next to the door so that Garrus couldn't misunderstand her.

"I know," he called back. "But as your friend, it kills me to see you like this. Locked in this cabin. It's not healthy."

"You obviously can't see—You don't understand—This…This cabin…This is my home! I'm okay here. I—I—"

She cut herself off, holding her hand over her heart. There was eerie deafness as she slumped down on her side of the door as well. Moments later, her ears perked as she heard a slight sniffling through the metal.

"I made a promise, you know," Garrus swallowed. "To Shepard, I mean."

Tali's eyes widened.

There was a universal truth that men like Garrus didn't cry easily. They were seen as heroes, men to be admired for keeping cool while under pressure, and Garrus was the textbook definition of it. There was never enough time for guys like him to be emotional like this, and hell, Garrus was one of the last few Tali would expect to hear this from.

It suddenly struck her that she might have been a little harsh. She didn't just lose her bondmate, he had lost his brother as well.

"I made a promise to him that I would make sure that you were alright," Garrus continued. "I thought…that giving you space to figure it out, then to process it, was the right thing to do. But now I think I was only sparing myself. I should've just come out and told you. I'm sorry. I'm not expecting forgiveness, I know I probably wouldn't give it. But I want to at least try to make up for it. Please, for Shepard."

There was a slight sting behind her eyes.

For the love of the Ancestors, not again!

But there were no tears this time. She had exhausted her system's supply of it.

"It's okay…Garrus," she gasped. "I'm not ready with a lot of things right now, it'll take time with…all this. But it'll work, we'll be fine. It's just—I'm sorry. Thank you, for coming by, and talking. But I still need time."

There was a screech of armor on metal as Garrus slowly got up.

"Yeah, I know," Garrus replied with a sniffle, regaining his lost cool. "But thank you, Tali, for being willing to talk to me."

"Of course," she replied warmly.

We all make mistakes.

After a long, hot shower and a deep cleaning of the insides of her suit, Tali got back to the devices on the table. She inspected the data chip that Joker gave her and took note of the etched line of information that ran along its side before placing it next to the terminal.

I'll have to get to that soon, but first—

She turned to the ring-like structure of the glass repair kit. Its heavy, blocky bottom acted as both a stand and a battery, and the ring was adorned with small instruments around the inside.

Seems simple enough. Time to undo the cage I put myself in.

Swallowing the bitter irony, she hooked up the system and went on the daunting task to retrieve the purple shards of glass off the floor. Thankfully, most pieces were large and stuck loosely together by a thin, transparent sheet of fog-resistant film.

She made several trips collecting the glass, only collecting a few shards at a time to avoid cutting hazards. Once she had collected all that she could, the next phase of the tedious task went into effect—making a suitable puzzle.

No pun intended.

She spent the next hour rearranging the pieces. The point of impact on the mask seemed to have come from the area just over where her left eye would be, as cracks shot like lightning strikes from the region, making a web of white throughout the purple. After feeling like she had a satisfactory rendition of her mask, she moved onto her suit's visor frame.

The little instruments in the ring of the glass repair kit acted as clamps, locking down on the frame and keeping it rock-solid. Afterward, she plugged the small metal sticks into the battery and began placing the little shards of glass piece by piece into the frame, using the first stick to melt the glass slightly, then using the second to snap-freeze them into place.

The whole process was grueling. What little hydration she regained was again lost as her forehead accrued an exorbitant amount of sweat as she focused on her work. It gave her yet another reason to get the mask done as soon as possible; she was missing its self-cleaning features.

After refitting some more shards of glass, she took a break and moved her attention to the data chip. Again, she looked at the line of information.

MEM-EDI CERB-AI UN:549.

Mem…Memory? Is this EDI's memory bank?

She gave it a once over. EDI was far more advanced than other synthetics like the geth, and even they had larger memory cores. Seeing her memories reduced to the size of this smaller data chip was simply astounding to her. Never did she think that so much information could be stored in such a small space.

She plugged the chip into the terminal. Trillions of data bits flew across the screen. Custom files blurred by with a rather wide variety of subject names, which were paired with visuals and notes linked to quantum analysis programs that were no longer available. Tali could only get a glimpse of each of the files for a millisecond before they passed by in a hyperspeed train of information.

Let's see…

ReaperCombat-Space-EarthEncounter-046b, ReaperCombat-Space-EarthEncounter-016a…

Crew-PsychEval-Notes-7953, JokesForJoker-80085, Weapons-ThanixCannon-Garrus-Calibrations-212…

Rannoch-Relationship-TaliShepard-Notes…

Tali's eyes unfocused from the terminal when she caught sight of the last file; before it sped away into data streams. Her mind fogged up, sparing her from emotions. Not long after, the chip started blinking an angry red and the terminal blasted a warning on its screen. Its system was being overloaded by memories and on the verge of a crash.

Tali frantically redirected the data stream and safely ejected the chip. She held it, hoping to the ancestors that she didn't just corrupt or erase any of EDI's memories.

It had stopped blinking red, which was a good sign, but she didn't give herself a sigh of relief until she saw that terminal said the ejection was successful. She put a palm to her forehead, annoyed with herself that she would even take a risk like that, especially with tech so advanced—so experimental.

So these are EDI's memories. Yet, how can I bring her back with just this?

She scrambled her mind for all things tech related, looking for anything in A.I. programming. Unfortunately, the only thing she had any experience with that was through the geth.

Wait, because of the blast…are the geth in a similar state as EDI right now?

No, can't think about that right now, have to focus!

If EDI is anything like the geth, she would need a separate engine to utilize these memories…

Tali followed her train of thought for several minutes, concluding with a theory that EDI was simply in some robot equivalent of a coma. She had the memories, now she just needed the brain to stick the memories in.

The problem is that most of the programs in the A.I. core are all fried to hell, which means, I'm going to have to do this the hard way; reprogramming everything.

Tali's made a loud thunk as her head hit the desk in exasperation.

Well, time to see what I can do I guess. Maybe I can salvage some information? I would need to go to the A.I. core, and maybe take a look at EDI's body.

Her eyes danced off of her visor frame, which wasn't as close to being finished as she would like.

But to do that, I need to fix this stupid thing. Bosh'tet, why did I chuck you at the wall?

Of course, she knew why, though she would rather not think about it at all. Instead, she grabbed the two metal sticks and got back to work, calling Joker's name on the intercom while she did so.

"Yello?"

"Yellow? What?"

"Engh, nevermind. What's up? Figure anything out with EDI?"

Tali sighed with annoyance but kept her relaxed front.

"Maybe. It's promising, but it looks like it might take some time."

"Oh, thank God!" Joker's excitement blared through the room, testing Tali's patience with a headache.

"I'm just going to need her body," she interrupted. "Not right now, though, but if you could get someone to send it up later—"

"On it!" he shouted, then immediately quieted as he registered that he had butted in. "Er. When did you want to take a look at it?"

"—later tonight. I have more work to do and it's looking like it'll take the rest of the day."

Joker groaned but acknowledged what she said nonetheless. With a fidgety farewell, he cut off the intercom.

Well, he's certainly excited, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

As she continued her repairs on her visor, she took note of some of the lingering issues. The shards of glass sometimes melted over others before she could freeze them, causing the surface of the visor to have a rough, bumpy texture, and the colors faded from purple to a dull gray. Needless to say, being able to see clearly was now yet another luxury lost to her.

After several more hours and a coat of resin that came with the kit, the visor was finally completed and ready for testing. She grabbed her helmet with one hand and pulled it over her head while she held the crudely made visor with the other. Anticipation spiked as she put the two pieces together and heard the hissing sound of them locking together.

She suddenly felt very suffocated.

It was a feeling she was well acquainted with in this room. So many freeing nights were followed by imprisoned work days. She wished that those nights lasted forever. Now there was only a meaningless future.

A gulp ran down her throat and she distracted herself with more work. She checked the visor for breaches as she felt around the mask. Then her suit systems started to kick in.

The HUD was a fuzzy mess. Static blared along the edges and all visual elements were lost.

But at least it's working.

She pulled her hood over the helmet and glanced around the room. The glass of the visor was scrunched close to her face and blurred everything into a wash of purple and gray. It was disorienting, but at least she could finally leave the cabin now.

A few seconds later she was taken off guard by a knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me! I got EDI's body here!" came the voice of the ball cap-wearing flight lieutenant.

Tali approached the door, giving her visor a once over, and opened it. Even through the blurriness, she could tell that Joker was not alone. Liara was there as well, supporting EDI's lifeless body with her biotics.

"Good evening, Miss Zorah, I see you fixed your helmet."

Tali noted the asari's overly formal nature and unsure smile, perhaps out of wariness from the night before.

"Oh, um, yes. I did. Please, bring her in," she motioned to the chair at the desk. Liara followed her instructions and placed the metallic corpse in the seat.

"You know, I could get one of the crew members to lend their helmet to you if needs be."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Tali fended off with a wave. "I could never do that. Besides, there's a whole issue with suit integration involved there, not to mention those helmets aren't as secretive as I would like…or clean."

"I understand."

There was a pause. Both Joker and Liara turned towards her, waiting.

"Um. Thanks guys," Tali said, awkwardness creeping on her neck. "I appreciate you guys bringing her here. And as much as I would like for you to stay and chat, I need to focus on EDI."

Joker let out a groan of protest but was stopped by a raised hand from Liara. The Broker urged the pilot out of the room but lingered herself. She still seemed wary, but looked at Tali inquisitively.

"What is it?"

"How are you?"

Her mouth opened then closed, recalling her day of grief.

I feel homeless!

"Um, okay, I guess," she choked. "I talked to Garrus earlier…um, thanks for your concern, but I really need to work."

Liara simply nodded and stepped towards the quarian, closing the distance between them and immediately making her dance lightly on her feet.

"Tali. If you need anything, we are here. Don't forget that. Now please, get some sleep. You sound like a corps—ungh, tired. You sound really tired."

Tali gulped and relaxed slightly, answering only with a nod.

I sound dead, you mean. I should be dead. But thanks anyway.

"I can't promise that. But I'll try."

Liara left the room with a satisfied nod, leaving Tali with a heavy soul, and a mechanical body in her chair. There was a painful pause as Tali looked at the bed.

She tore her sight away and approached the terminal and the body, getting back to work. There, she would create a foundation for an engine late into the night. There was no hope in restoring EDI completely. For that, she would need a team of the best A.I. engineers for a few months. But perhaps she could restore her just enough to help them get home.

Back to Earth. John's home.

She looked for John's goodbye message on the terminal, hoping to listen to it once more before she would cry herself to sleep by the time the sun rose.

Oddly, the message was erased.