Cenotaph I: The Morrow

by Rob Sears

Roahn'Shepard was always doomed to an abnormal life. As the daughter of John and Tali, she would always be overshadowed by her parents' heroics, but at home... her father is no hero. He is distant. Withdrawn. But when a new threat arises, she and her father are forced to confront their differences and Roahn will soon discover what it means to be the daughter of Commander Shepard.

12. Chapter 12: Allies, New and Old

"Broken promises are something of a given in our line of work, Mr. Koenig. Sadly, it's something that we have to get used to very quickly around here. That being said, this is not the first time that Chimera has been accused of improperly allocating funds before, is it not? Special hearings in 2193 and 2194 have made that all too apparent, I believe."
Sen. Dewar, UNAS

"Speaking from the experience, I have no choice to agree with the fact that Chimera has been subject to a couple investigations in the past-mostly stemming from occasions involving rogue elements that could not have been foreseen beforehand."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera

"Rogue elements, you say? Funny, because some of these instances sound like they could have been preventable had there been some sort of executive oversight in place. Many organizations have been down this same road before, Mr. Koenig, and all have made the same mistakes like Chimera has made. Five years ago, for example, you were awarded a contract by the Systems Alliance to collaborate on a new defense project alongside the military. You had a three year window and a five-billion credit influx at your disposal. Artificial intelligence technology for mobile turrets, if I recall, although the proper designation for what the military was looking for was more in line with a virtual intelligence for remote combat, essentially a stripped down AI to comply with the laws laid down by the Council. But after your three years were up, no progress had been made on the project and all the cash had been spent. An unfortunate ending to this ordeal. Is this to your recollection as well, Mr. Koenig?"
Sen. Dewar, UNAS

"It is, but if I also recall, we cooperated extensively with the prosecutor assigned to investigate this case. If we're remembering the same incident, the perpetrator for the misallocation of these funds was discovered relatively quickly. Also, we never rose to the defense of the man in charge of embezzling the military's funds—hell, we went so far as to testify against him."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera

"And I suppose your cooperation is why the Alliance still places you highly on its list of contractors? The hand once bitten…?"
Sen. Dewar, UNAS

"In my line of work, senator, transparency with our clients is considered a virtue. If other people hold different perceptions, then that is not really my business."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera

"The irony."
Sen. Dewar, UNAS

---

Omega

A hair's breadth.

That was how far Shepard was from completely losing his mind right now, but not from sheer anger.

No, from sheer terror.

A vacuum throbbed in his ears, a distinct void of silence when noise should have taken its place. Twin lumps grew within his throat. His very vision began to quiver as his skin became damp with perspiration. Shepard could physically feel the panic began to bubble up from the pit of his stomach, bringing a sour taste to his mouth and causing him to nearly double over with pain. If he could taste the color yellow, it would be subsiding into every pore of his tongue, infecting him with a sour note and causing all the saliva in his mouth to evaporate. His clothes felt like they were constricting him. His mind swam in a dark sea of confusion as he thrashed about in its wake, helpless in the face of the tides.

All because his daughter was no longer on board the ship.

Her very presence-in which her corporeal form should have resided right here-failed to exist.

"Roahn!" he called again as he embarked on searching through the interior of the craft for a third time.

Compartments clattered carelessly as Shepard took to upending every corner of the ship as his arms pinwheeled in desperation. Not a single nook or cranny went untouched during Shepard's crusade to discover where Roahn was potentially hiding. If she was hiding. Every room, even the damned bridge, was thoroughly searched as Shepard ventured high and low to locate his daughter. But no matter what, despite the meticulous and expansive effort Shepard brought, he could not find her.

Roahn was gone.

Trying so very hard not to panic, Shepard stood in the middle of the craft, near the open airlock door, and frantically rubbed at his scalp with his hands. How? How could that girl vanish? He had locked her in here, didn't he? There should have been no chance that she could have simply wandered off. Shepard ran through his last words to the girl right before he left. He remembered that he had told Roahn that he would have been back within an hour, which he very well had succeeded in doing (per his chronometer, it had been fifty-five minutes since he had last made that declaration), and that he had strictly forbade her from leaving the premises of the ship.

A new thought then came to him, one that he dreaded even imagining in the first place. What if Roahn had not left here of her own volition? What if… someone had taken her? Omega was an empty pit. This forsaken station was where people came to lose themselves. Lose them to drugs, to the gangs, to life itself, Omega was the opposite of forgiveness personified. Only the worst called this place a safe harbor. The very thought that someone from these shores could have laid their hands on his daughter...

But what if Omega was not the cause?

Could Chimera somehow be behind this?

"No, no," Shepard winced and, with a wave of his hand, tried to physically fan away the thought. But it was too late; the idea had already taken hold and had sunk its claws into the black matter of Shepard's brain. No amount of force could tear it away now without Shepard being torn as well.

Shepard's hands curled in response to the dark concept so hard that he could have crushed steel. The bones in his knuckles popped and groaned in response to the stress. Even barely imagining someone harming his daughter would normally be enough to send him into a rage, but Shepard was scarcely able to contain himself now, as he was nearly bouncing off the walls in such a savage anger. If he kept this up-feeding his own fear and rage-Shepard would be liable to literally destroy the interior of his ship in his despair. Even after the perspective that he had been granted after his meeting with Aria, Shepard knew that he would know an enduring fury so precise towards anyone who threatened to hurt his family, that he would strike back so savagely upon those that oppressed him. The fate of those troopers that Aria had captured would seem like a luxury compared to what Shepard could conjure in his head: a whirlwind of a most violent conflagration of force and destruction ever contained in a solitary shell such as Shepard.

He would let rage infect him. He would make sure every fiber of his being knew his searing and macabre will.

If the persona of the Commander had to reveal himself, this would be the time to do so.

It was just… Omega was the worst place in the galaxy to find themselves disoriented within. If Shepard did not feel safe or secure traversing some of the districts on Omega, how would someone less experienced possibly feel? A girl as young as Roahn… nowhere was safe upon this hellhole. That girl could not even comprehend the sick things people would do to young children on board these wayward stations. Shepard bemoaned his luck and cursed his stupidity. How could he have let his own daughter run off like that? Had he damned her to a life worse than death by leaving her behind, out of his sight?

Shepard fell to his knees, nearly heaving, as he tried not to think about Roahn locked up in a cage somewhere, starving and afraid. "Animals…" he murmured. "Fucking animals."

He should never have brought her here. No, he should not have been anywhere near Omega. Oh god, Shepard keened to himself. What have I done? Tali… Tali, what did I do?

But before he could let loose the scream that embodied the sum total of his despair, and before he could dash on out of the ship in a frenzied effort to find his daughter, guns blazing, Shepard's introspection was interrupted by the quick series of pitter-pattering sounds: small boots upon a metal floor. They quickly increased in tempo and in volume.

Someone was approaching his ship.

Could it be…?

Like a bolt from the blue, the diminutive form of Shepard's daughter suddenly burst into frame through the airlock door, the warm light of Omega diffusing in and giving Roahn a glowing outline. She was panting, out of breath, and the look in her eyes was somewhat guilty which softened a little when she saw her father upon his knees, his own mournful look still frozen upon his face.

Her soft eyes speared through the diffuse blue of her visor and met her father's similarly icey ones. Differing species finding familiarity through a singular look, transcending physical bonds to make eternal connections. Brain synapses fired eagerly in the both of them as father and daughter found their own gazes relaxing at the same time.

Not realizing the hurt she had put her father through and more thinking that instead she had been caught in the act from mounting her impromptu exploration, Roahn hung her head shamefully as she stepped into the gap, back onto the ship, earnestly contrite.

"Dad…" she began as she stopped just short of where Shepard was kneeling, trying to find the words to properly explain so that her father would not be as mad as possible. "I…"

Roahn was cut off as Shepard immediately pulled her in for an enormous hug.

Both father and daughter simultaneously gasped in a wonderful combination of astonishment, relief, and, to their surprise, wholeness. Shepard's arms were tight around Roahn, but not tight enough to squeeze the air from her lungs. He held his daughter's body close to him, as an affirmation that she was here, in this room, with him. A long, gradual sigh escaped his mouth, springing up bare tears from his eyes that were swiftly blinked away, known only to him. Still on his knees, Shepard gently rested his forehead upon Roahn's shoulder, the blood quickly draining from his head and leaving him dizzy as his previous franticness was alleviated all at once in an awesome wave.

What Shepard would not realize at first, perhaps for a long time, was that his reaction, upon seeing Roahn, would be pivotal to Roahn for the rest of her life. It would be one of those moments that would resonate long after the action had concluded, even if the action itself was only seconds long.

It was the hug. A complete, honest, and spontaneous gesture. Unique amongst a dreary sea of torpidity. Roahn had no idea how to react, what to say, or how to think as her father hugged her. It was just all… him. Simply having Shepard surround her in a protective embrace and to hear his own breathing slow in his solace was almost unreal to her. Roahn could not even recall the last time that Shepard had hugged her. Before her mother had died, at the very least. If had done it prior, it had never been so fierce, so genuine.

As flummoxed as Roahn was, she managed to retain a shred of wherewithal to be able to shakily return her father's hug, unexpectedly finding herself settling into the warm embrace. With a tiny murmur, Roahn closed her eyes, her fluttering breathing smoothing out, now that she was relaxing in the face of her father's care.

I really must have worried him, she thought with a pang of remorse.

"My god, Roahn," Shepard finally breathed as he separated from Roahn, while keeping his hands tightly clasped upon the girl's shoulders. "Don't scare me like that ever again. What were you thinking, running off like that? I told you to stay here, damn it. I told you to stay…"

Shepard's voice ran off as he had expended all his air—momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

Roahn felt like she had been run through, not because she had betrayed her father's trust, but for the first time, she could actually see the effects of what she had done imprinted upon her father's face. Just by looking into his eyes Roahn was able to see a towering swell of relief crash down upon him, washing away the fear and terror that had clumped up there. Real ramifications to her actions—she had finally tested her boundaries to the absolute breaking point.

It certainly explained why Shepard was near tears instead of completely berating her. Instead of the anger that she had expected, she only found sorrow and panic, clinging to him tightly long after the fact-salt clustering to the rocks after the tide had deposited them there. In the face of his family's safety, Shepard's rage meant nothing.

In Shepard's eyes, Roahn was that tide.

Now Roahn found out that she really did have the potential to hurt her father after all these years. To cut him down to nothing by exposing his biggest fear, for she occupied a large place in his heart. It had been said to her many a time, but now… today would only confirm that Shepard truly did cherish her. After today, Roahn vowed that she would never deliberately try to hurt her father again.

"I'm…" Roahn managed, her voice also shaky as the weight of her betrayal began to take her down, "I'm sorry, dad. I tried… I tried to get back quickly. I didn't mean to… to cause you to worry."

Now Roahn was shaking from her nerves. It was always a humbling experience when she was the one having to give an apology—as anyone would be able to attest—and Roahn was trying very hard to make her words be as sincere as possible, only because she was indeed contrite. She was not going to mention the turns she had encountered whilst she had been roaming around Omega. She knew her father well enough to not give him too much to worry about. Roahn was well aware that she had practically given him a heart attack today—no need for there to be another.

She felt tinier than she had ever felt before. This was different. When her father had been angry at her, she could utilize his hot rage to feed her own indigence. But Shepard was now a vortex, his face crestfallen, consuming any shred of defiance left within her.

The guilt nearly caused Roahn to start to sob, now that she realized just how badly she had caused her father to panic.

Shepard briefly dipped his head and let out another sigh. "I thought that I had lost you, Roahn."

"I know," Roahn nodded, meek.

Shepard's hands came around to the sides of Roahn's helmeted head, gently keeping her in place and forcing her to look straight at him.

"Do you understand now why I didn't want you running off? Do you at least know why I was so scared?"

Shepard had to restrain himself from trying to hammer home all the ways that Roahn could have been hurt on Omega. As mature as she was for her age, she was better off not hearing such horrible things.

Under her mask, Roahn bit her lip. Would her father have ever admitted that he was scared in the past? This was a man who stared down Reapers and had won, who had gone toe-to-toe with krogan battlemasters and had come out without a scratch. It was hard to imagine that Shepard had been putting on an impressive façade all this time, with all the cracks now beginning to show.

Unless… the cracks were all because of her.

"I… I do," Roahn answered. "I'll never do it again, dad. Really. I swear. I truly promise you."

Shepard noticed that Roahn was quivering-from guilt or fear, perhaps? The poor girl was terrified of the ramifications of her transgression. But Shepard found that his daughter's words were acceptable and that she understood the seriousness of actions. Shepard then gave a solemn nod and briefly looked away, forlorn but recovering. "Did you…" he started, not trying to pile on any more remorse, "did you get lost trying to find your way back to the ship? Was that why you took so long?"

Roahn bobbed her head in affirmation. "Uh… yeah. I did."

"You didn't get into any trouble?"

"Not…" Roahn took a careful glance behind her. "Not exactly. But… but I did get help in the end."

Shepard gave a slow blink. "Help? What do you mean?"

Roahn, upon being asked to elaborate, began to perk up, her eyes widening. "Dad, I… it's... I don't know how… it's incredible… you just won't believe it!"

"Believe what?" Shepard tilted his head, clenching his eyes shut to try to make sense of his daughter's babbling. "What are you trying to tell me, Roahn?"

"I… I…" Roahn was fanning her hands, clearly beside herself. For good reason—it was only because she had been getting abashed by her father (rightfully so) that she had completely forgotten to mention a new development that had just reared its head at the tail end of Roahn's Omega expedition. "D-Dad… I was lost in the marketplace… didn't know where to go… lost my bearings… but someone found me… a-and… and I was led back here by… by…"

"By whom?" Shepard pressed, nearly exasperated.

"By me. Who else?" A new voice swerved from around the corner.

Shepard turned just in time to spot a newcomer enter the ship from the direction of the airlock. This new arrival ducked their head to prevent from banging themselves upon the low access point, only straightening up to their full height when they had made it inside. They were taller than Shepard by a few solid inches and this person's body structure was not exactly the same as a human's: thin waist, arced shins, and dry, mottled skin. A curve of elongated cartilage, a crest, sheared away from this man's skull out to at least a foot behind him—typical of the species. A jaw filled with sharp spikes for teeth glimmered, partially covered by a pair of inflexible mandibles, which were not at all inherently familiar to humans, much less quarians.

All the same, Shepard recognized this man well before the neurons in his brain confirmed what his eyes were inexplicably seeing.

The biggest grin Shepard had made in years immediately spread across his face as he rose to greet his guest.

"I don't believe it," he could only say right before he became locked in a brotherly embrace with the other man, both of their arms clasping the other with a fierce smack followed by grunting as they pulled themselves into a clearly practiced lock. "You son of a bitch! How the… how did you find us?"

"How? Shepard, I'm disappointed. You of all people should know to never underestimate me."

The overhead light fell across the man's face, illuminating the glimmer of mirth that Garrus Vakarian had in his eyes at this moment. The turian could not physically smile, but the sheer look that Garrus was projecting, coupled with the knowing tilt of his head, indicated that the man was just as beside himself as Shepard was in this very moment.

"Garrus Vakarian. All this way, I don't—"

Shepard could not stop smiling and brought the turian in for another bear hug, being unable to finish the rest of his sentence. The turian similarly obliged, each one slapping the other on the back so hard that it sounded to Roahn like such blows should hurt quite a bit. But both men were still smiling long after they had parted, all equally excited to be in the same room once more.

It was no secret that, other than Tali, Garrus Vakarian had become Shepard's closest friend through the trials and tribulations that they had endured together. The turian had stood at Shepard's side from nearly the beginning of their adventures, thick and thin, watching each other's backs the whole way. He was a warrior, true at heart, that always claimed to be a "bad turian" due to his tendency to power through instances of bureaucracy (obedience and being subservient were traits that turians tended to lionize, which were just the very ideals that Garrus had exhibited no patience for), yet Shepard had said all this time that Garrus was one of the best people he had ever met. While Shepard had connected with Garrus' moral compass and determination to do the right thing, what Shepard valued most of all in Garrus was his staunch loyalty and genuine desire to be a good person that they had become fast friends since the time they had known each other. Many times, having a friend was all Shepard had needed in the most trying of times, and Shepard knew that, whenever his back was to the wall, he could always count on Garrus to be at his side until the end. That was a bond that not even time could weather down.

Garrus stood out from the crowd of turians for a couple of reasons, mostly due to the fact that he had a penchant for always wearing a tactical eyepiece over his left eye, a long piece of glass that glowed a vibrant indigo. Actually, he wore it so much that Shepard would not have been surprised to learn if Garrus went to sleep with the damned thing still on his head. Garrus also had on a pattern of blue facepaint that was delicately applied to his mandibles and that continued on in a segmented line that ran underneath his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. But if those weren't the most distinguishing features, then it had to be that the right side of his face was all twisted and mangled in a maze of unceasing scars. That was a permanent reminder of a close call Garrus had sustained on Omega, of all places, when he had gotten a little too close to the business end of a rocket thrown by a Mantis gunship. Skin grafts and cybernetics had seen to the worst of the damage, but Garrus' face had been permanently disfigured from the attack. On the upside, regardless of how badly Garrus had been mangled in the past, he still retained a sense of humor about the whole ordeal, managing to see the best of things despite what should have been a pertinent and sobering memory.

Old habits apparently died hard for the turian, as Garrus was decked out in a light suit of armor, patterned with strong shades of storm-cloud gray coupled with a few vivid hues of ocean blue. A pistol hung at his hip and a sniper rifle had been slotted upon his back. Shepard could not figure out if Garrus was sticking to a routine he could not escape or if the turian was just being paranoid. Then again, Omega was not the sort of place to roam around without a weapon. He could sympathize with Garrus here, at the very least.

"The last time we were here together, you were the one surprising me," Garrus chuckled in his light timbre, referring to the time when Shepard first reunited with him after his supposed death from the Collectors. "I figured it was about time that I repaid the favor."

"This is… unbelievable," Shepard ran his fingers through his head in awe. The man was still wide-eyed, like he was expecting Garrus to be a hallucination that could vanish at any second. "So many years it's been. But… dammit, it's wonderful to see you, Garrus!" He gave the lanky turian a knock on the arm. "How the… how'd you even know to come here? Omega's not even close to Palaven and… I never told you that we were coming here!"

Garrus simply crossed his arms in amusement. "Didn't I just tell you not to underestimate me?" He let the question stand in the air for a bit before he finally shrugged. "You gave me the ID tag of your ship years ago, you fool. You wanted me to know wherever your ship might be, so that I could always find you in case things took a sudden turn, remember? And about a week ago, I opened my tracking app on a whim and, lo and behold, I saw that you had finally left Rannoch and that you were approaching this system. I was elated, as you could imagine. How else should I react? My friend was finally off the planet that he had exiled himself to! How could I not take such an opportunity? I figured this was my chance to see you and the family, and I promptly hailed a craft to get to you. And... well, I'm here now. What else is there to say?"

"Yeah, that explains it all right," Shepard admitted, truthfully having forgotten that he had given Garrus a secret backdoor to his whereabouts a long time ago. Amazing what kinds of stuff could be forgotten over the natural passage of time.

"So, how come you've left Rannoch? Are you finally done with that spot of trouble back on Earth?"

Shepard sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Not really. It's probably fair to say that things are worse than ever."

The turian gave a slow blink as his fragile gaze briefly crumbled away from Shepard's. "Ah, that makes sense. Especially considering the events of the past few days."

"What events?" Shepard's face blanked. "I haven't heard anything of the sort."

"I'll explain later," Garrus hastily deflected. "I'd rather you introduce me to this one over here, even though we've just met." The turian then took a long step towards Roahn, who had been staring up at the man the entire time he had been talking. "Found her wandering alone in the crowds out there. Dangerous place for a girl to be walking. Figured that you were close by and that I should take her back until you returned."

Garrus then knelt towards Roahn, who had been silent while watching her father start to reminisce with the turian. Her breathing was subtly picking up again and her eyes were wide as she started to comprehend once more that she was in the presence of a person that she had been reading up on for quite a while. Just looking at the legendary Garrus Vakarian made her heart feel like it was going into palpitations. The back of her neck felt cold and clammy. Her fingers ached.

"We've never been in the same room with each other, nor have we ever shared words," Garrus said to Roahn as he temporarily lifted the eyepiece off his face, slipping it into a side pocket, "but you look just like you do in the pictures that your parents sent me over the years. How you've grown. I could pick you out anywhere." A glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Has your father talked about me much?"

"Not… not all that much," Roahn managed, not missing the slightly crestfallen look Garrus gave. "B-But from what he's said about you… I'd know you from anyone."

"Your father's probably just waiting for the appropriate time to tell you all about me," Garrus looked up and momentarily locked eyes with Shepard before appraising Roahn again. "I know he may seem like an enigma, but… he does have his reasons. But your dad always has kept me appraised about you, did you know that? I'll never forget the day that you were born, Roahn. I was on the Citadel, at a late hour, and I had been pacing around my office for what seemed like the entire night, just waiting for a call. I was too excited to go to sleep, for all I knew, the big news could only have been seconds away. Then, all of a sudden, my omni-tool rang, and the first words out of your father's mouth were, 'She's here, Garrus. A beautiful little girl.' He was so proud and we were all delighted to hear the news. That was probably the happiest I had ever seen your dad. Even more so than at his wedding."

Roahn gave a smile of her own behind her mask before it summarily cooled, finding it somewhat distant that she had to learn about this fact from a person other than her father. So much… there was still so much she did not know about her own family. She could only venture so far into the nebulous void before being forced to take alternate routes. What Garrus had provided was just another path to the center.

"I… I… I did not know that," Roahn could only say.

Garrus slightly stiffened, trying to quell his instinct to twitch his mandibles—a sign of agitation. Shepard's been getting behind. How much does this girl have yet to learn?

"I'm sure Shepard had a good explanation for not telling you about that," was the reply he came up with, even if it sounded lame in his head. The brief, searing glance he provided at Shepard conveyed a hefty dose of accusatory connotations as he tried to pierce the stone façade of the human's expression.

"I know. But he's been telling me a lot more lately." Roahn shot a look of her own towards her father, who, after looking away from Garrus' sad stare, simply made a placid expression of affirmation towards his daughter, indicating that Roahn was indeed speaking the truth regarding his newfound openness. "Besides, I know a lot about you already."

Garrus chuffed. "Really? Like what?"

"That you were—are—my parents' best friend, that you're supposed to be one of the foremost tactical geniuses in turian combat history, that you just might—but it's not proven—be a better shot than my dad—"

"Shepard, I'm smitten," Garrus gave the human a sly look, his mandibles edging out of the way to reveal a row of sharp teeth like spines.

Shepard just rolled his eyes while he tried to stifle a smirk.

"—that you were one of the most fearsome vigilantes on Omega, and that you're a special appointee to the Citadel Council now," Roahn finished, before she trudged her foot on the ground, suddenly shy. "I also have your action figure," she added somewhat in embarrassment.

Had, Roahn remembered. I had the action figure. Probably melted into a lump of plastic somewhere in our home by now when it burned to the ground.

The mischievous twinkle in Garrus' eyes became noticeably brighter. "Did you hear?" he mockingly asked Shepard. "She has my action figure."

"I've heard," Shepard said evenly. "She's been a fan of yours since day one." When Roahn whirled to look upon her father, astonished that he managed to glean her interests, he gave a shrug in response. "What?" he asked sincerely. "I'm not so blind as to be clueless to what my daughter is interested in."

Garrus thoughtfully gave a pause in light of the parental revelation, only appraising Roahn once again once he was sure that the moment had passed. "It appears that I've put this off for too long. You see, I have been wanting to meet you, Roahn, for a very long time."

"You have?" the girl squeaked, reeling at the mere mention of her idol returning her intense adoration.

"Why not? You're the daughter of my two best friends. Anyone with any self-respect in my position would want to meet you. My history with your parents notwithstanding."

"Don't sell yourself short," Shepard interjected with a calm wave of his hand. "It wasn't your fault that we had to delay this meeting for so long."

"All the same," Garrus responded, his eyes burning brightly. "I should have come sooner. Damn what everyone else should think. I'm years late to this!"

"And if you're just going to blame yourself for my actions, then we're just going to get nowhere. I told you the situation all those years ago and why you could not visit. Things have changed since then. Roahn and I," Shepard curtly nodded to his daughter, who was still gaping at the turian, "are in terrible danger now. More so than the usual empty threats that have been looming over my head this time. We've got hunters on our tail, sent by a corporation—a private military—called Chimera. They've been on us for a couple weeks now to try and apprehend me. Staying on Rannoch," he clapped a gentle hand on Roahn's shoulder, shaking her affectionately, "was not safe for the both of us."

Garrus narrowed his eyes, trying to drudge up additional information deep within his brain. "This in relation to that spat that you had with that senator about ten or twelve years ago?"

"The very same one, in fact. Raynor Larsen is his name and he's definitely the one pulling the strings here. He wants the same thing out of me that he did back then: to submit a testimony that would damage our allies so that he can enable the Alliance to wrest power away from the Council. And before you say anything," Shepard added as Garrus rose to his feet, all his attention focused on his friend, "the reason we didn't go to you first is that we didn't want to put you in any danger from Chimera."

"You know that I wouldn't have cared either way," the turian spread his arms as he adopted a pleading look.

"All the same, it wouldn't have been fair to lay that on you."

"I know. I'm just saying that it wouldn't have mattered in the end."

Shepard smiled. "Then you're a better man than I am."

Everyone in the party all then subconsciously started to make their way over to the kitchen table just a few feet away from where they were all congregated right now. Shepard took the booth, wincing as he lowered himself down, and Garrus gave a fragile look in the human's direction. Saying nothing, he instead slid out the chair across from Shepard, with Roahn immediately claiming the one next to the turian.

"I did mention before that we had something to discuss," Garrus said, his tone slightly halting as he minutely glanced at Roahn next to him. "But I'm not sure that I should say this in front of your daughter."

"Say what in front of me?" Roahn piped up, chipper as she ever could be. Clearly her proximity to Garrus had elevated her energy levels somewhat drastically.

Shepard took that information stoically and rubbed his thumb along his chin as he appraised Roahn carefully. He then gave a singular nod before leaning over the table and folding his hands together in a pensive maneuver.

"I've been trying to be more open with my daughter, Garrus. This really isn't something for her to hear?"

"Not sure," Garrus shrugged. "That's really not up to me, to be honest. But what I have to say… it's not going to be good."

Absorbing the notion that he might have to relapse back into his old ways, Shepard fortified his mental defenses by taking an unseen but deep breath, keeping his mouth hidden behind a hand. He then looked at Roahn, finding that she was giving him a silent plea back and as they locked eyes for a few seconds, Roahn gave a tiny tremble and pressed her back against the chair as she already realized what her father was about to say.

"Come on, dad, I—" she tried to say.

Shepard just shook his head, adamant. "Not this time, young lady. Garrus is right. We're going to need you to go to your room for a little bit."

"But—"

"No buts out of you," Shepard said just a bit more sternly. "I've had enough insubordination out of your for today. Consider this your punishment for sneaking out of the ship without my knowledge, at the very least. You know what you need to do. Chop, chop."

Roahn yanked her head around in a last ditch effort to seek clemency from anyone who might listen, but it was immediately apparent that she was not going to receive any support this time around. With a dejected sigh, Roahn hopped off the edge of her chair and made a show of moping over to her room in a languid state. To Shepard's unvoiced relief, Roahn did not make an even bigger show of relaying her disappointment, as she had managed to read the logic in the situation to realize that there were still moments of unfairness that she would still have to endure.

"We'll have some time to talk in a few minutes," Garrus called after the trudging Roahn. "Don't worry."

If that had managed to assuage Roahn some, neither Garrus nor Shepard could tell.

Once both men were certain that Roahn had closed the door, the two of them leaned in closer so that they could speak at a lower volume.

"How's she holding up?" Garrus asked as he folded his hands in front of him upon the table. "Roahn, I mean."

Shepard gave a shrug in reflex and took another instinctive glance towards the shut door where his daughter had vanished behind. "As well as any young girl could take this. Probably even better than I had hoped, to be honest."

"That's good. Someone her age, it would be a tragedy if she had her innocence robbed so soon."

Now Shepard rubbed at his jaw in agony, as if a sudden ache had cropped up there. "It will still be sooner than I would have liked. That girl deserved better. She deserved a real life, Garrus. That's what all this has been about since the beginning: giving Roahn a life. A house, a family, she should have had all these things. Tali and I created so much for her so that she would never be left wanting."

"And yet," the turian sighed, "you can't stop it from happening, can you?"

"Children should not have to grow up so fast. At their age, they think that adults have everything figured out. They always find out that the truth is nothing but a fabrication. Us adults, we're just pretending that we have everything under control. They think we know what we're doing, but we're just flying by the seat of our pants."

Garrus nodded in agreement, laboriously blinking to relay to Shepard that he understood. Garrus had no kids of his own, but he still understood the underlying notion that age did not necessarily guarantee that he should hold the answers to the universe in his head. Uncertainty had been rife within him for so long that Garrus had long relished the day where he would simply have to cease his worries and let life gently carry him away like driftwood upon a languid river.

But, knowing life, that river would undoubtedly be filled with rapids before calm could wash over the scene.

"So," Shepard rubbed his hands together, "what have I missed in the last couple of weeks?"

Now or never. Garrus made sure to deeply inhale.

"Hackett's dead," Garrus said bluntly, his face made of diamond.

"What?" Shepard was thrown, nearly not believing it were it not for the fact that the turian was completely serious. "When?"

"A few days ago. Local police on Earth came across his body in the woods several miles from the capitol. He had been… pulled from his transport, along with his military escort, and executed right along the side of road."

Shepard said nothing for quite a while as he instead buried his face in a hand, his fingers rubbing at his eyes so hard as if he just wanted to smear away this veneer he had upon his life, to try and tear away the so-called curtain that was in between him and the perfect world he had always envisioned for himself.

But reality would always linger in his mind. Cold, dreary reality.

"Hackett," Shepard muttered clumsily before he was unexpectedly wracked with a cough. "Shit."

I had just talked to the man a week ago! We had been conversing together like… like old times! And now… he's gone? Murdered? It doesn't seem possible.

"Was…" Shepard cleared his throat. "Was it Chimera?"

Garrus could only managed a strangled face, the kind of expression that emphasized a heavy guilt due to a lack of answers.

"From what I heard, no one has any idea," the turian sighed. "No leads, no evidence. Just bodies."

"It has to be Chimera. Has to be."

"I'm not arguing with you there, Shepard. You and I both know that Chimera's been a rogue organization since the beginning. And now that you're saying that they've sent people after you… well, it all adds up, doesn't it?"

"Hmm…" Shepard simply mused as he rubbed his hands together again frantically, both of which had suddenly ran cold, like the blood had been limited in flowing to those areas.

Garrus observed Shepard's vacant expression as well as his hunched body posture, trying so very hard not to expectantly tap his fingers upon the table separating the two of them.

"How have you been feeling?" Garrus asked as he tried to make a gesture without trying to vocalize his meaning, not wanting to be too intrusive. "Hanging in there, I hope?"

Shepard suppressed a laugh. "I look that bad, eh?"

Garrus had to stop for a bit to consider his next words. Truth be told, the human had looked better in the past. The sickly gray hair of Shepard's beard and head also did the man no favors. He looked to be fifty years older than he already was. Not to mention that Garrus could see that Shepard's hands were shaking a bit and that the human was holding his hands tightly, as if to suppress a chronic pain that resided there.

"Still hurting?"

"It comes and goes," Shepard considered as he flexed his fingers. "Not really much I can do about it at this point. The meds help with the pain, but it always comes back."

"Have you been seeing anyone lately? A doctor, I mean."

Shepard raised an eyebrow as the edges of his lips curled ever so slightly upward. "On Rannoch? Not many professionals there that would know what to do with a human. The last guy who looked at me was from a passing Alliance caravan. And that was years ago."

Garrus' mandibles finally gave a singular twitch, a tic that Shepard definitely noticed. It was always a sign that a turian was undergoing extreme emotion when their mandibles were flaring. Shepard had interpreted it as a sign that, whenever that was happening, turians were reining in emotions that might otherwise be too explosive to properly voice, or that they simply signified a state of mind that was too complex for words to even describe.

"You mean to say that you haven't been to a doctor in years? Spirits, Shepard… in your condition—,"

"What do you suggest I do about it now?" Shepard finally snapped as he slammed his hand down upon the table, causing a lone mug perched near the edge to jump up a couple inches. "Not like there's a clinic on Omega I can waltz on over to anymore. This is just something that I have to deal with, one step at a time." He raised a hand for emphasis, shaking it so that Garrus could see the gnarled knuckles, the calluses on his palm.

Shepard then leaned over and undid the zip end of the rucksack he had brought on board the ship, causing a large amount of plastic-encased injectors to tumble onto the table. Vials of yellow liquid swirled around their tiny containers, the medical labels facing the ceiling.

Garrus raised his hands in the universal expression of surrender after taking in the sight of Shepard's medication. "I'm not trying to pester you, Shepard. I'd never try and force you to do something against your will. But from where I'm sitting, and knowing what you're going through, I have an obligation to help you and that girl in the other room however I can. And if that extends to me having to push you to see a doctor, then that's what I'm going to do."

"What," Shepard smirked nastily, "are you saying you know a guy on Omega who can properly look at me?"

"Even better. I know a guy on the Citadel. Does surgery on limbs, mostly, but is well versed in other areas. Fixed up an old war wound on my knee years ago, actually. Top notch guy. I guarantee he'd take a good look at you."

"The Citadel?" Shepard laughed, a roughened rasp. "Garrus, that's not exactly a straight shot from here—"

"You've got a quantum entanglement communicator set up over there," Garrus jerked his thumb to the little cranny of the kitchen where a holographic console was nestled over there. "And I see you have a Midas medical suite. Give him a vidcall and link him up to your station. He'll perform the checkup from the other side of the galaxy. People do these off-site appointments all the time. It's not that abnormal anymore. Just give it a shot, for me. I promise it'll be quick and painless."

Shepard's eyelids tapered down to fine slits, studying Garrus in apprehension. There were still a few topics that Shepard did not like to broach in open conversation, even with a friend as close as Garrus. He felt that there was no point to some of these things except to reiterate the obvious in his mind. But then he considered why Garrus was requesting this of him. Garrus was just someone who was concerned for him, who wanted to make sure that his friend was all right. It was probably the least he felt he could do for someone whom he had not even laid eyes on in god knows how long. If Shepard did this, maybe Garrus could be allotted some peace of mind, giving him a firm reason to stop worrying about his friend so much. If Garrus could be put at ease, then that would be one less thing that Shepard would have to concentrate on.

Garrus had not been there when Tali had died and being at such a distance when that had happened had torn the man up for a month. Shepard knew that the turian would willingly lose limbs than have to undergo such a separation from his best friend again. He would not stand idly by, not when he had them all here right now. After all, it was what Tali would have wanted of Garrus—to support her husband wherever and however possible. Garrus did not want his idleness to linger on his conscience anymore.

Such a simple request. It would be a shame to refuse.

"Fine," Shepard finally muttered as he moved to stand from the booth. "This doctor better be damn good, though."

---

The QEC link with the Midas medical suite took some time to set up, which had been a full fifteen minutes of two grown men trying in vain to decipher simple programming instructions obtained over the extranet. But by sheer will, and perhaps a bit of luck, Shepard and Garrus had finally gotten everything in order, with the hologram crystals primed and warmed, ready to project the image of the person they were about to communicate with.

"All right," Garrus announced as Shepard seated himself into the chair in front of the console. "Go ahead and initiate the call. I've already informed the good doctor that he's about to look after someone of importance."

"Oh, joy," Shepard responded tonelessly, but he did as he was told and a loading bar popped up on the screen of the console, indicating the amount of progress towards connecting the two callers.

Half a minute later and a green check mark appeared on the screen and a tone sounded, indicating a good connection. The overhead crystals brightened and thick, tangible static started to fizzle right over the projector dais, reacting and coalescing into a humanoid form, the resolution rapidly clearing up as the call itself continued on, bringing this person's features into light.

The doctor was a human male, about Shepard's height thereabouts, with a full head of hair, colored brown, and a thick beard that was closely cropped to the man's face to complete the entire picture. Broad-shouldered, in decent shape, and appeared to be in his late thirties. The man's eyes were a piercing blue, discernable even through the medium of the hologram, and his face was nicked by slight scars that interrupted his otherwise smooth pallor. Just above the collar of his shirt, Shepard could see a long, marbled white line of scar tissue mar the man's neck on the left side—an unusual accoutrement that Shepard had not been expecting. Instead of the usual jumpsuit medical personnel usually wore, this man was wearing a baggier alternative, adorned with the same professional markings, but there was a distinct casual air about this person, one that was quite unlike the unconscious snobbiness that most doctors exuded. There was something to this man, Shepard already decided, that was different. That seemed… familiar. Almost like looking into a mirror.

He decided to put that feeling aside for now, for Garrus was already beginning the conversation.

"Thanks for calling in, doc," Garrus said to the hologram before he gave a brief pause. "You're on a secure channel, right?"

The image of the human crossed his arms irritably. "Hello yourself, Vakarian. What do you take me for? An amateur?" Deep voice. Weathered from experience. "I do pride myself on my ability to be discreet, you know."

"Hey, I'm just making sure. I kind of have a special request for you right now."

"I figured. When I received a message from you, of all people, telling me to drop everything and call in, intimating that this was a matter of the utmost importance, it would be fair to say that I would certainly comply for a person of your stature. So, let's hear it. What do you have in store for today? Your knee acting up again?"

Garrus gave an abrupt cough. "No, actually, my knee's not bothering me. Everything's acting the way it should. I just want you to take a look at… a friend of mine. You see… it should be clear in a moment why I made this request."

The doctor then shifted his view to appraise Shepard more closely. The bearded man squinted his eyes, leaning in further for affirmation. When the doctor's eyes widened slightly, Shepard realized that this man had figured out who he was, despite his weathered appearance. That was certainly quick of him.

"Ah," the doctor merely said. "No wonder you wanted to keep this on the down low."

"Correct. Picture now getting clearer?"

"Hey," the man shrugged, "if you want me to keep quiet about this, I can keep quiet. Mum's the word."

Shepard shifted his weight around on his feet. "Garrus, just who the hell is this guy?"

Garrus made a pained face. "I probably should have done the introductions at the start, eh? Sorry about that. A little awkward, now. So, Shepard, this is Doctor Samuel McLeod. Senior staff at Huerta Hospital. Doc, this is—,"

"Commander John Shepard," the doctor finished for him. "I know, Vakarian. I know. And you'd have to be living under the biggest rock in the galaxy to not know who this man is. Funny, though. I thought he was supposed to be living on Rannoch. It's what the feeds all say these days."

"Remember what I said about keeping quiet?" Garrus reminded the man.

"If you think I'm going to sell out two of the galaxy's biggest heroes, you can certainly call someone else to do the damn checkup," the doctor snapped. Shepard had to smile at the brief indignation, liking this man's blunt and forward style. "I'm not going to become the biggest pariah ever known just to get my name in the tabloids. I've had enough adventures in my life as it is." Suddenly pleasant, the doctor then shifted his attention to Shepard, giving his hair a brief brush with his hand as he reflexively took a breath. "You'll have to excuse me. Vakarian has always brought out my sarcastic side whenever I've had to tend to him. My wife keeps on telling me that I need to work on my attitude."

"Garrus has always had a certain way with doctors," Shepard reasoned. "And he's quite protective of his friends, as you've no doubt noticed."

The doctor gave a short, rasping laugh. "Believe me, I just might know more about that than you might realize. But enough beating around the bush. You can call me Sam, or Doc, like Vakarian does. Would you rather I call you Shepard, or Commander, or…?"

"Just 'Shepard' is fine. We'll keep things simple that way."

Sam gave a nod, his image flickering to the motion. "Fair enough. I… uh… suppose you're wondering why Vakarian picked me to be your examiner."

"Other than the fact that you can keep a secret?" Shepard responded as he settled into the chair. "He apparently believes that you know your stuff. What's your specialization?"

"Arthroscopic surgery, but I do double as a physician occasionally when the workload over here gets a little frantic. Am I correct in assuming that you're only going along with a checkup just because Vakarian here is pressuring you into one?"

"Pretty much," Shepard said drolly, not missing the opportunity to shoot the turian a playfully accusatory glance.

"Figured as much," Sam said. "Well, no sense in waiting any longer. I'm just going to open up my console here and we can get started. Hmm… let's see… ah, it looks like you've already connected a Midas suite on your ship to our server. How hard was that for you guys?"

"Very," Shepard and Garrus responded at the same time.

Sam's grin broadened, all teeth, as he apparently set to work adjusting some parameters on his end. "And they say that technology makes everything easier these days. So, Shepard, are you sitting down in the chair right now?"

"Yeah."

"Excellent. Now, place your hands on the armrests and… try to hold still."

Shepard complied and at the very moment he laid his hands upon the circular portions of the armrests, the contacts glowed green, then blue. A second later, two curved scanners swung up into view from underneath the chair, one for each armrest, and positioned themselves over Shepard's wrists, looking a lot like oversized cuffs. Little flashing beams strobed out from the laser scanners, positioned on the underside, dazzling Shepard's skin in a bath of glittering illumination.

The cuffs whirred and then drew closer to Shepard's exposed wrists, conforming to his body. Then, barely discernable, a needle as thin as a strand from a spider's web shot straight down from the scanner and pierced Shepard's skin just below where his wrist connected to his hand. Shepard felt the barest of pinches and his fingers twanged reflexively, but other than that, there was no pain. The needle itself was hardly an intruder—its entrance very well could have been a slight itch upon his skin.

There was also no discomfort as the needle sucked up a few drops of precious blood, withdrawing after it had taken a miniscule amount from Shepard's body. A fat dropper then also descended while the syringe was in the middle of ascending, applying one tiny droplet of medi-gel right where the needle had impacted upon Shepard's body, closing the already microscopic site up completely. Shepard felt his skin start to heat up dramatically from where the medi-gel smeared over him, but then the sensation quickly cooled as if an arctic blast had unexpectedly wafted against him.

In less than ten seconds, he felt nothing else.

"All done," Sam's hologram announced, his attention glued to a screen off-camera. "You can move your wrists whenever you want. However, I'd advise you to stay in the chair. Passive scanners are still going and I'd like to take a closer look at things, just in case."

Shepard glanced up at saw a white plastic halo hum away over his chair, presumably blasting his body with x-rays, magnetic scans, and other assorted forms of energy that were allowing Sam a thorough inspection of his body. The scanner at work. That was the beauty of the Midas suite—intensive scans like MRIs or anything of that ilk could be accomplished in a casual setting and also in an expedited fashion. It still took ten minutes for anyone to get a complete scan, but it was better than lying down on a cold bench for an hour.

"Two drops of blood is all you need?" Shepard asked as he rubbed the spot on his wrist where the needle had pricked him. "Seemed like the doctors always took a full gallon from me whenever I had blood drawn before."

"They're just being on the safe side, would be my guess," Sam answered. "The more blood, the more accurate the results. So the logic goes. The truth is that medical equipment has improved to the point where you only need a drop or two to be able to make an accurate scan. The tech's been around for a decade… more than a hundred and fifty years later than they said it would take for it to come to consumer markets."

The snarky tone that Sam was using suggested that he was hinting at a reference that Shepard had no exposure to. He decided not to ask the man to elaborate further.

As the scanner continued to run, Sam stood back from his own display, rubbing at his chin while keeping an arm crossed as he looked over Shepard's vitals.

"You know," Sam said out loud suddenly, "my wife's a very big fan of yours. She'd freak if she heard that I was talking to you today, but as I said before, I'm going to have to keep this a secret from her. A shame, I would have liked to have seen her reaction to all of this."

"Is she now?" Shepard replied, a little bemused. Truth be told, Shepard had not been exposed to the sort of rabid hero worship over the years. His isolation on Rannoch had been quite effective in insulating him from the effusive and sycophantic praises that were being sung about him in the streets of every civilized planet or space station. As such, Shepard had little defenses for this sort of talk and he could only shuffle in his chair in embarrassment, some heat rising to his cheeks.

"No surprise there," Garrus snorted from the corner. "Shepard's always had good luck with the ladies."

"Only one lady," Shepard corrected with a sigh, his voice so tender that it immediately caused Garrus to clamp his jaw shut, verbally backed into a corner at this point.

Through the hologram, Sam gave Shepard a sympathetic smile. "I heard what happened to her. When she passed, I mean. You have my condolences, Shepard. She always seemed like an incredible woman."

Shepard dimly nodded, his attention focused elsewhere as the ghost of a heavenly laugh echoed in his ear tauntingly. "Yeah," he muttered, hoping that his solemn mood would not be noticed by the doctor. "Tali really was… something else."

Shepard continued to stare off into space for a moment before he seemed to brighten, the melancholy having fled his body, taking a breath so deep that it seemed to inflate his body. The ghostly laughter faded. "But that's not important right now. You said that your wife was… what was it, a fan, Sam?"

"Oh yeah," Sam's grin returned gratefully. "She's always been fascinated with your story. Devours every book that broaches the entire length of the war. Thinks that you're an inspiration. Same with my daughter, in fact. Kids her age, they love having role models."

It was almost too tempting for Shepard to blurt out that his daughter probably felt the same way in some sort of tertiary and confused version of love, but he kept silent on that for now. Roahn was not exactly public knowledge, at least not beyond his closest friends and comrades, and he preferred to keep it that way until Roahn was ready for the real galaxy that awaited her.

"How old's your daughter?" Shepard asked, grateful that he had this avenue of small talk to explore.

"Taylor will be ten later this year," Sam smiled proudly. "Children certainly get rambunctious at that age, let me tell you."

Now it was really difficult for Shepard not to mention his sentiments.

Instead, he decided to try his luck a different way.

"Do you find that your life was any harder when you had children?" Shepard asked while keeping his vision lowered. "Or has it been rewarding for you the whole way?"

Sam laughed genuinely, nearly clutching his gut as he reared backwards for a second. "Shepard, having kids is going to be difficult, no matter how hard you try. They can be calm one day and a total hurricane the next. That's just how kids are. So… yes, having kids will be tough, no doubt about it. But," he added as he lifted a finger, "no matter the trials, I will say that they will be part of some of your most cherished memories for the rest of your life. You may be at your wits end for a moment, but in the long run, it will be the best reward you will have ever received. At least, that's my take on it."

The doctor turned a little more somber as he crossed his arms, now appearing to stare off into space. "The point is that things… might not turn out how you'd expect. There's no telling what the next day will bring. Trust me, I know all about weathering the unexpected. Especially with my own daughter. But that's all part of the end goal. If you play things just right, the memories of the hardships will fade away, just like that."

Sam snapped his fingers, the sound crystal clear and echoing perfectly.

Shepard took all that in without another word. His fingers clenched upon the armrests of the chair, causing the tendons in his hands to stand firmly out. His teeth slowly ground against one another in his mouth, a tic that always occurred when he was deep in thought.

The best reward, Shepard repeated in his head. And all I've done is squander it.

Meanwhile, Sam was dutifully tapping away on his own console, his attention back to normal, his fingers a blur upon his keyboard. "All right. Scan's all finished now. Feel free to fidget on your own time, Shepard."

Another widespread hologram then booted up next to Sam's projection, this one depicting an inside view of Shepard's body. The scans had certainly been thorough. The depiction ran the gamut of perspectives upon Shepard, from portraying different layers on each of his systems, including his muscular, nervous, and skeletal systems, among others. There were even different offerings of his body in varying wavelengths, allowing both doctor and patient to view Shepard's body in ways that were normally invisible to the human eye.

Sam ran his cursor over different parts of the mockup of Shepard's skeleton, no doubt noticing the cybernetic enhancements that had been grafted directly to his bone. Hell, Sam was soon running a separate view that was specifically filtering out objects in Shepard's body that were not organic. A mish-mash of cybernetic weaves and implants hovered in mid-air, comprising a crude humanoid shape that formed to Shepard's body. Shepard unconsciously flexed a hand, knowing that, just underneath his skin, there was a fine mesh of analogous mechanical systems residing there—all over his whole body, no less. Implants melded to bone and organs, as seen on the visual, the very things that had revived him from his so-called death and what had kept him alive at the end of the war. A significant portion of him artificial, a piece of his humanity locked away.

"You have to give them credit," Sam mused as he stared at the implants while tapping away, referring to Cerberus' handiwork. "They certainly were thorough."

"They certainly were," Shepard hoarsely reiterated.

Sam then depressed a key three times, made a quick face, and then shrugged. "Well, it doesn't seem that your implants are showing any signs of rejection. That's good. Means that there will be less things to go awry."

"Pardon me for asking, Sam," Shepard carefully rubbed at his temples, "but you don't seem all that surprised as to how exhaustive and comprehensive my implants are. I mean… they're not exactly all that commonplace."

Sam did not respond for such a long time that Shepard thought the connection on the call had been frozen. But then the doctor coughed, showing a miniscule flash of guilt, before answering.

"Let's just say that, in my line of work, nothing surprises me that much anymore. Fair enough?"

"Yeah," Shepard shrugged, disregarding his notion. "Fair enough."

Sam then resumed running through diagnostics upon his console, his image showing that he was dragging various icons around his screen as he expertly maneuvered his way through the testing process. He definitely seemed adept at his craft, Shepard observed. Blunt, succinct. No wonder Garrus had such a positive impression of this guy.

It was also safe to say that Shepard was starting to like Sam as well.

"Oookay," Sam mused as he chewed on the end of a stylus. "Blood tests results are coming through now. Let's see what we have here. All right, so it looks like both red and white blood cells are good… as are your platelets… hemoglobin and hematocrit measures normal… glucose, calcium, and electrolytes a bit on the low side, but not abnormal… kidneys showing some strain, but within parameters… and…"

The stylus in Sam's mouth dipped suddenly as his eyes paused on one of the testing lines. Apprehensive, the doctor started to delve in deeper, tapping upon his keyboard to obtain more information, checking to see if he was seeing things correctly.

But somehow, Shepard had a feeling he already knew what had struck Sam like that.

"That's… certainly odd," Sam mused as he squinted at his screen. "You've apparently tripped a few of the microRNA tests. Detection of the molecules miR-133b, miR-215, and miR-375 have all registered positive hits. That shouldn't happen… unless…"

"Don't worry, doc," Shepard sighed as he scrunched one of his hands up upon the armrest. "I was expecting this."

Sam's look was blank as he tried to understand what Shepard was trying to infer. He kept his reaction muted when he eventually did realize, trying his damnedest to be subtle with his facial expressions, yet there was a distinct air of worry about the man, discernable even through the QEC call.

"You already knew?" Sam spoke slowly, drawing out a confirmation. "Shepard… these microRNA tests… they're not something to be disregarded."

"I've known about it for a bit now. I've been taking the proper medication to quell the symptoms."

"Entolimod?"

"Yeah."

"I see." Sam chewed his lip as he entered some information on his screen, setting his stylus to the side. "You remember when you were diagnosed?"

"Two years ago."

"Were you showing signs of symptoms before then?"

"I guess. Not really sure."

More clacking of keys. Sam was not taking his eyes off his screen as his fingers worked at a rapid-fire pace. "You remember how this happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

"No, I don't mind," Shepard shook his head. "But to answer your question… I really don't know what the exact cause was. I've gone through all the possibilities in my head for a long time, now. There've just been too many opportunities for this to crop up on me." He waved a hand up and down, referring to his condition.

It was obvious that that answer did not completely satisfy Sam, but he did not pressure the point any further. He instead made a note to himself and gave the console a swipe with the flat of his hand, bringing it back to the home screen.

"Well, other than what I already mentioned, it seems like you're within normal boundaries. As long as you continue to take your medication, that should be enough to alleviate the worst of the symptoms."

From the back of the room, Garrus perked his head up. "Nothing more to add, doc?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing else to say. I'm not going to beat a dead horse here, despite my occupational proclivity to do so. If you're already aware of your ailments, then it's safe to say that any chastising on my end will be pointless." With a final tap on his keyboard, Sam closed his console and spread his arms wide. "But what I can say at this point is that… seeing you up and about, Shepard… well… know that there are still people out there who unquestionably support all you have done. It's just unfortunate that you had to be vilified by the politicians. You deserved better."

Isn't that the truth, Shepard thought to himself, barely managing to contain his smile as he found himself agreeing with Sam's every word. It definitely sounded very similar to a kind of sentiment that the turian behind him would give him back in the good old days. Hell, it could have even sounded realistic coming out of Tali's mouth. She was one of the few that had been able to cut him down to the bone with just her words.

"I'll transfer your fee to you in a second," Garrus said as he started to approach the console, but the hologram of Sam held up a hand.

"Forget the fee, Vakarian. I'm not about to charge men of your stature. It's just not my prerogative."

"But still—," Garrus tried to protest, but Sam was having none of it.

"I'm not taking a single fucking credit out of you. If word gets out that I charged one of the Normandy crew for a regular medical checkup, I'd be labelled as the cheapest son-of-a-bitch in the galaxy. If you don't believe me, just check out the headlines from five years ago, when an Illium medic charged Liara T'Soni a prescription fee for a regular medication. They got labelled a tightwad and lost all their business. Anything you want out of me, I can do for you gratis. It's the least that I can do, in my opinion."

Garrus backed down, making a little noise in his throat as he did so. "Why do I get the feeling that we might just take you up on that offer someday?"

"Hey," Sam grinned as he scratched at his bearded chin. "On that day, I'd be happy to oblige. Scout's honor."

"Thanks for the assist, doc."

"No trouble, Vakarian. And you, Shepard. I hope things work out for you in the end."

"I hope so as well," Shepard said tiredly.

"As do I," Garrus said before he waggled a finger in the doctor's direction. "And remember, doc…"

"I know, I know," Sam held up a hand as he moved to terminate the connection. "Mum's the word, Vakarian. Mum's the word."

---

A blank wall. Completely featureless. Matte beige. Nothing at all interesting or notable about it.

Yet Roahn consistently found herself returning her vision to the blank face, only because it happened to be the only wall directly across from her that she could see without turning her head within her room, her little partition delved away exclusively for her. She lay upon the small and uncomfortable cot, arms crossed behind her head as she tried to relax in a semi-reclined position. The hard padding of the wall behind her bit into her shoulder blades and her back was aching from being put in an awkward space.

The soft rap upon the door immediately shot adrenaline into her veins. Finally, a break from monotony.

Roahn hopped to her feet took a singular step, able to cross the length of the entire room in an instant. She palmed the access point and stood back as the door opened.

Soft notes of gray and blue clustered on armor plating wrapped around the individual standing in her doorway. Roahn found her jaw agape once more as she lifted her head in awe.

"Mind if I come in?" Garrus asked the girl, his voice soft.

Roahn would have laid out the red carpet if she had one available.

"Uh… s-s-sure…" Roahn stammered.

Nice, she thought despairingly. Very smooth, Ro.

Garrus did not seem to care, for he considerately edged himself into the room and took a seat upon the only chair in the room. Roahn, after a time, timidly crossed back over to her bed and sat directly across from the turian, her hidden expression one of amazement.

"What's going on?" Roahn asked Garrus. "Where's my dad?"

Garrus adjusted himself on the seat and raised his head, giving Roahn a better view of his eyes, colored a watery reef.

"Your father's on the upper deck," Garrus pointed upwards for emphasis, "plotting a course for our next destination. I don't blame him for not wanting to stay on Omega any longer than necessary. But right now, I just want to talk with you a bit, Roahn. After all, Shepard's like family to me, which makes you family as well. I guess I just want you to have the opportunity to know me. And… and I'd just like to talk to you, if that's all right with you."

Roahn's head might as well have exploded in that instant. Garrus Vakarian… the dashing turian sharpshooter of the Normandy crew… was interested in talking to her?! The only reason why she did not freak out in that instant and let out an incredibly girlish squeal was that she had temporarily forgotten how to breathe while Garrus was speaking.

If only Roahn knew where to start.

"Well… I… I… I…" Roahn hopelessly tried but it was not until she had to seriously pause herself to take a breath of sweet, filtered air, did she manage to regain any control over her speech. "W-What do you want to talk about?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Garrus said as he leaned back, keeping a casual air. "Shepard's been keeping me updated on what you've been doing so much that I feel that this isn't the first time that we've actually talked. It actually feels like I've known you for years."

Wish I could feel the same, Roahn thought sourly. "I never got to hear much about you from my parents. Mom told me the most, of course, but dad… well… you know him better than I do, probably."

Garrus eyed his talons as he clasped his hands together, his subharmonics creating a barely audible thrum in the room.

"I can't speak for Shepard completely, but your father has always been a rather secretive person, Roahn. It's just something that he's never fully adjusted to, all this openness. There were times that it even took me a great deal of effort just to pry simple things out of him. Like when your parents first started a relationship, everyone knew at the time, but he would never give a firm answer whenever I prodded him, either choosing to stay silent or give an extremely noncommittal answer. He can be a very frustrating person, sometimes."

"No argument there," Roahn chuckled. Laughing felt like she was rapidly returning to her normal self, only less stressed out than she was before. It was certainly the best natural relaxant one could ever hope to find.

"But," Garrus added as he raised a talon, "your father is still the same man that I would follow into hell and back. When I first met him on the Citadel, I was just a regular C-Sec officer, relegated to a monotonous life of gradually moving around the meritocracy. When Shepard suddenly showed up and offered me a chance to join him on his mission to pursue Saren, our mutual quarry, I jumped at the chance. Considering the results, it would be a choice that I would make again and again, knowing the eventual outcome."

"What kind of a leader was he?" Roahn asked as she shuffled herself around on the bed. "Everyone said that dad was this amazing leader. But… I just can't see it. Was he… intense? Were you ever scared of him?"

Garrus politely chuckled. "Intense is one word, but I'd think that Shepard would rather not have that be his sole descriptor. Focused would probably be better. Shepard could be fearsome in combat, but to his comrades, he was always approachable. He was someone who let his actions do all the talking on the battlefield. He was very calm, reserved… confident in his abilities, but not a trace of braggadocio. On top of that, he could be very personable. Charismatic, even. He always wanted to know if we were going to bring our all on the missions. He made sure we went into battle with no distractions. Honestly, I know that, for the rest of my life, I will never meet a person that could possibly even come close to the same league as Shepard."

And if Roahn was being honest, she was thinking that the entire characterization sounded downright bizarre. It was obvious that Garrus had a preconceived notion about her father from his experiences with him, but what memories did she have of Shepard that would want to make her follow him to the edge of the known universe? It was hard to believe that the two of them were talking about the same person. Charismatic? If it had not come from Garrus Vakarian's mouth, she would have laughed in his face.

This whole topic was not sitting well with her, like she had just eaten something foul and that her gut was disagreeing with her. She decided to switch gears slightly as a warm sensation accompanied by a fleeting image in her head came and went, leaving Roahn feeling slightly empty inside.

"My mother…" Roahn gasped before she caught her breath. "What was she like?"

That question gave Garrus pause and he shifted from side to side as he considered his answer. "Has Shepard not talked all that much about Tali either?"

"It makes him too upset," Roahn admitted. "He always gets sad when he thinks about her. He tries not to show it, but I can tell."

Unbeknownst to Roahn, Garrus had wilted from the girl's words, finding it rather disheartening to hear just how in the dark Roahn had been kept all this time. He knew that Shepard had been rather cagey with the details surrounding his past, but he had not expected such a myopia, such a lack of context, that Roahn had not yet been allowed to peruse yet. How could he not tell this girl about her mother? Garrus thought in anguish. This was Tali. His fiercest love. And he cannot bring himself to talk about her to his own daughter?

"I see," he could only say before he finally addressed the pertinent question, trying very hard not to broach a topic that Roahn's father might see as inappropriate or ill-timed. "Your mother—Tali—was an extraordinary woman, Roahn. I really did like her upon first meeting her, although I will admit that there were times when we butted heads on certain ideals, but it was her adamant nature to keep to her ideals that impressed me. And if she happened to be wrong on something, which was rare, she would always see reason eventually and handle it with grace. She had drive, passion, and she was also quite the handy shot with a shotgun. You could always count on her to get you out of a close-quarters situation."

Roahn's smile was broadening all the more while Garrus talked.

"I would have liked to have seen her in action," she mused.

"She was a sight to behold, most definitely. Extraordinarily smart, to boot. Not really much of a surprise that Shepard ended up falling for her in the end."

"Why do think that is?" Roahn pressed.

Garrus considered the ceiling, wanting to make sure that he worded everything correctly. "Shepard always had a knack for being able to dig deep down into a person, to find what made them tick as beings. Now, Tali was someone that proved herself to be extraordinarily loyal to Shepard, but not out of an obligation for her duty, but as an obligation to him. She trusted him that much to know that he would always do the right thing, and Shepard was enamored with that trust she was showing. I think he must have felt that it was humbling. But at first, it never seemed like they were going to progress beyond anything than just friends."

"What do you think changed it all?"

"I'd think that his initial death had something to do with it," Garrus said. "Shepard was not quite the same person when he was revived. He was more serious… more morose. He was like a machine that would not quit—he was fully committed to stopping the Reapers at any cost to the point where he felt that if he stopped fighting, even for a moment, he would be overwhelmed and destroyed. I guess he figured that he was not going to waste his second chance at life by doing nothing. Yet there was always one constant in his life at that point, one person continuously striving to keep Shepard anchored to reality, always making sure that he would not burn himself out."

Roahn sat up straighter. "Mom."

Garrus nodded. "Tali cared about your father a lot. She was continuously by his side because of her love for him. She looked after him constantly, always keeping a watchful eye, always tending to his wounds when he got hurt. And Shepard, he noticed her attentiveness to him. He too fell in love. Tali managed to keep a hold on Shepard's last shred of humanity, the one thing that prevented him from going completely off the rails. In that sense, she saved him many times over. At the crucial moment, she was the most welcome presence in his life. It's what kept him alive after the war, I personally believe. It's what made him fight."

Roahn now had a dreamy look on her face as she tried to imagine her mother, striking a heroic pose (her sehni flapping in the wind), as she tended to her bloodied father, Tali's eyes sparkling with a searing fire of determination and adoration behind her visor. It was weird to imagine her mother as an icon, but once the image had taken hold in her head, it proved surprisingly difficult to diffuse.

"That being said," Garrus added with a fair bit of mirth, "they tried to keep their relationship on the down-low when they first started out. Worst kept secret of all time, if you ask me."

"How's that?" Roahn asked.

Garrus smirked, his eyes narrowing playfully. "I saw the two of them holding hands while walking out of the elevator of the Normandy. Plus, your dad had a very un-Shepard like grin on his face. Not that hard to put two and two together."

"That bad, huh?" Roahn laughed.

"Pitiful. They still thought they had gotten away with it for weeks. I love them both but they were hopeless when it came to concealing their romantic feelings. They really had no sort of experience with that kind of thing before."

The thought was amusing to Roahn and she giggled at the mental image. However, she quickly sobered as she remembered the sight of her father now: grizzled, morose, and hardened from time. No trace remaining of the kind of person that Garrus had known in his lifetime.

Despair quickly overcame her and Roahn's eyes started to bubble with tears. Ashamed and embarrassed that she was crying in front of her idol, Roahn lowered her head and wept as silently as she could, her body shuddering in time to her sobs.

Garrus spotted the girl crying almost immediately and moved over to comfort her. "What brought this on?" he spoke softly as he helped straighten Roahn back up. "What's the matter, Roahn?"

"It… it's d-dad," Roahn spluttered. "I've b-barely seen him… when he was… truly happy. Only with mom… he was only happy w-with mom. Am… am I the cause of this? D-Does dad… resent me? Am I just a hind-… a hind-…"

The hands at her shoulders suddenly gripped Roahn hard, causing her to take a deep breath, absorbing some of the tears.

"Let me tell you something, Roahn," Garrus' voice now took on a tinge of iciness, "if your father heard you say that right now, you would just destroy him."

"B-But… he just seems so stern to me. I just want the father that my mom knew. That you knew. Just someone I could talk to… instead of a stranger."

"Listen, Roahn. I know you might think that you could be a complication in your father's life. I'm here to tell you that that's not true at all."

"He certainly doesn't show it," Roahn mumbled, her face flushed, eyes still moist.

"Because he doesn't know how you have felt this whole time. Only now has he been getting an idea of what you're going through. We're talking about the same man who, every week without fail, would gush with pride over you on every single call we made. Every week, he told me what you had been up to. He was attentive, overjoyed to be a father, not once having a single regret over having you in his life."

For the umpteenth time, Roahn wished that she could just throw away this visor and be able to wipe her eyes. This wet feeling on her face was starting to become an annoyance.

"Why couldn't he just… tell me?" Roahn moaned.

"That's just how your father is," Garrus merely said. "Shepard's a complicated man. He may be very stiff with his emotions, but there cannot be any rival for the two people that he has loved the most fiercely: your mother and you. I can attest that, even though it might not be obvious, you make your father very happy when he's around you. You're all he has now—there's no way that he would ever lose you."

The words were there. The emotion, the intent. No way that Garrus was lying to her face. Every syllable was draped in seriousness as the turian spoke laboriously, drawing out every word so that there would be no confusion.

But in spite of that, the effect was still nebulous on Roahn. All she had were words to combat her experiences with her father. Despite Shepard's best intentions to open up more to his daughter, Roahn still had too many memories that lingered only on Shepard's stiffness and perceived inattentiveness to her throughout her life. Garrus had known Shepard for fifteen years, six more than Roahn did. And Garrus had been through a lot more with her father—she only had to endure her mother's death with him, and even then, he had been despairingly distant.

The worst part was that she had all the proof she needed, in the form of Garrus here, that her father had been a drastically different man once upon a time. All she had to go on was his word… as well as the word of the entire galaxy, that Shepard was, in fact, a decent man.

Decent. A rich sentiment. It was like everyone was laughing at her for being unable to get the joke. Even more so, Roahn felt isolated. The odd one out. Doomed to remain adrift while everyone else remained stable on land.

Everyone seemed to be able to "get" her father. Except her.

"I wish I could believe you," was her only answer to Garrus, who could only give a subtle growl of apprehension in return.

---

The sky through the windows was dripping with a golden shade of amber, dousing the bedroom in a cascade of tan so thick that Shepard was almost drowning in it. The light fell upon the bedsheets, long shadows from the posts in the windows displaying morbid crosses upon the tousled surface. The fabric, warmed from the sun, was hot to the touch, like the blankets were being heated from below, a fire stirring deep below the house.

Even though he was partially blinded by the rays of the setting star, Shepard stood in front of the clear glass door that led to the deck, observing the roaring waves pounding the cliffs and the beach several meters below. His hands were folded behind his back and he took a deep breath, almost imagining that he could smell the salt of the sea, even through the glass.

He turned his head slightly at something that Tali said behind him.

"Absolutely not," he emphasized before Tali could finish. "We'll do no such thing."

He heard Tali start spluttering in protest. "But… but… it's not right! We have to tell her, John! We can't just—,"

"We can and we will," Shepard finally turned around, making a cutting motion with his hand, a usual sign that he was not going to budge on this issue. "She's too young to have this dropped on her. We're not going to tell our daughter that her mother is seriously ill. All she's going to know is that you're dealing with a slight sickness, nothing more."

Tali, completely clad in her enviro-suit, edged closer off the bed, her hands furrowing the blankets below her through tortured knuckles. Her limbs, subject to intense trembles, caused her body to look like it was constantly undulating, as Tali had to keep herself moving to disperse the pain.

"S-Slight?" Tali uttered in horror before she raised an involuntarily shaking hand, letting her husband see how bad the shakes were. "Is this slight? Does this look like something that can be trivialized to you?"

Shepard just glanced at Tali's arm for a long time before he strode over to the bed and gently cupped her hand in both of his, feeling her bones through her suit as he gently rubbed a thumb along the back of her hand. The gesture had the immediate effect of steadying the quarian, quelling her uncontrollable shuddering and causing calm to disperse throughout her in an even flow.

"Tali," he spoke softly, "we don't need to worry about this too much. We were lucky that we caught your illness early. All the doctors—they have high hopes for you. They really do think that you have a guaranteed shot at pulling through. Roahn… I… we don't need to tell that girl that her mother is ailing from something like this. She's not old enough to understand."

"She's not a baby. She's five," Tali defended hotly. "And she's very observant for her age. You know that we can't hide this from her forever."

"That doesn't mean we can't try. I would prefer it that Roahn never know about this close call. If she were to go the rest of her life without knowing this, I would be satisfied."

"We can't do that to her! We can't lie to Roahn like that!"

"So what should we do?" Shepard let go of Tali's hand as he walked back towards the patio door, hoping to draw solace simply by looking out at the sea. "Observant or not, how are we supposed to tell Roahn that her mother is suffering as we speak? How can we explain to her that you have to undergo a very serious chemical treatment soon, one that has the potential to subject you to even more pain, or that you might eventually need surgery to fix the tumor that is in the process of metastasizing within you? Five years old is way too young to have to even think about losing a mother. We can't put that kind of stress on a young child. We need to act as if everything is normal!"

Before Shepard could intervene, Tali abruptly shot to her feet, yanking the covers off the bed so violently that the very movement caused a stray plate, perched upon the edge of the bed, to be dislodged and fall down upon the carpeted floor, whereupon it cracked in half. Tali rose, her eyes twin infernos, as she heavily limped over to Shepard, letting out an audible gasp each time she placed any weight upon her left leg. The limp was so pronounced that Tali's center of gravity was highly skewed to the right, and Shepard's heart sank as he saw his wife stagger over to him.

He wanted to tell her to stop, but he found himself unable to.

"We can't pretend," Tali seethed, but it was through a quiet agony instead of raw, unfiltered anger. "I can't do it, John. I won't lie to my daughter. I need to prepare her in case I don't get better. She needs to know if there's a chance that she won't have a mother in her life. I want that girl to understand. I only want her to know that I… I love—,"

Shepard just shook his head. "I'm sorry. We can't."

"I won't accept that."

"You have to. We promised to give that girl a perfect life. We can do nothing to dispel that in any way."

"I don't care!" Tali snarled, momentarily forgetting herself. "It's wrong, John! It's wrong to do that to her!"

"Tali," Shepard's face turned stern, "I will not tell that child that her mother 'may' die."

"Then I will! I'm not going to stand by and leave Roahn without knowing—"

Without warning, Tali's right knee gave out and she began to pitch forward in a clumsy fall. She would have hit the ground hard, had Shepard not darted forward to safely catch her. Tali stumbled and her legs kicked feebly against the ground in a vain effort to gain traction. Her fingers weakly grasped at Shepard's arms and she gave out a minute sob as she felt the frustration burn within her at her loss of control.

With the tearful quarian in his arms, utterly dependent, Shepard silently scooped Tali up, hoisting her seemingly frail body waist-high. Tali clutched at Shepard's chest and gave a weak murmur, her eyes fluttering in a newfound lethargy. Shepard carried Tali back over to the bed and gently placed her upon the mattress, making sure to fluff up the pillows and to straighten the blankets back out to make his wife as comfortable as possible.

Shepard tried very hard to keep his expression masked. He did not even want to imagine a life of Tali being so defenseless in her sickness, let alone a life without her. No… no, he mustn't think like that. Tali was going to get better. She would be back to normal in a matter of months. He would not have to worry about this silly notion of her dying and they could all get back to their regular lives.

Tali dying. What ludicrousness. The very same woman who had withstood years of war be brought down by a simple illness? It seemed too insulting of a fate for him to even conceive. Shepard's joints ached and popped as he resumed tucking Tali into bed, the light in his eyes becoming duller as his mouth became harder. He was not going to lose Tali. Not now. Not ever. She would not die with him looking after her. He needed her too damn much for her to go like that.

And their daughter. Tali needed to be there for her too. Roahn had to have a mother. That girl deserved the universe—to grow up barely having a mother… the thought was too terrible for Shepard to imagine.

Sighing, Shepard wheeled over the infusion pole upon which hung a clear plastic bag in which a clear saline solution was already sloshing around within: an IV bag. He took the end of the tube that connected to the bag and sat down on the bed next to Tali. He lifted up a flap of her sehni so that he could access the miters underneath and connect the fluids to her bloodstream, but Tali feebly raised her head and tried to swat his hand away.

"I can…" she tried, "I can do this myself."

Shepard gave a deliberate pause. A clear lie on her end. A futile attempt to diffuse the atmosphere of moroseness that had befallen the both of them. If she couldn't even lift a hand, how could she… Shepard shook his head, not even bothering to try to see the logic in Tali's words.

"Can you really?" he asked, earnestly wondering if Tali actually could or if she was merely bluffing to try and gain some of her dignity back.

However, it was evident from the fact that Tali's eyes were struggling from a great effort that her previous statement had, in fact, been a bluff.

"I just… just…" Tali panted. "I feel bad."

"Yeah, that typically happens when you're sick, honey."

"No. I feel bad because you have to look after me. That you have to give me my injections every single day while I rest. I hate being a burden on you, John. I cannot stand it."

The honesty and selflessness was so touching that Shepard could not resist using the back of his hand to gently rub against the side of Tali's suited neck, the pressure of which caused her to sigh deeply in longing, shifting her head into his touch.

"Too many times have you stood watch over my bed while I healed," Shepard whispered as he laid his head close to Tali's. "Cleaning my wounds, washing my body, even holding me when the pain became too much to bear. You showed me throughout the years how deep your love ran. Let me show you what your kindness has done. Let me help you."

From the nightstand, Shepard took out a syringe filled with a pale green liquid, the color of sour grapes. Smoothly, Shepard stood back up so that he could connect the syringe to the IV bag, slowly injecting its contents into the larger container, creating a steady drip of fluids. The medicine swirled within the saline solution, creating tiny whirlpools of color as it billowed and furrowed. Drawn by gravity, the medicine travelled down the tube and directly through the miter to access Tali's blood stream.

Tali gave a little shiver as she felt a cold liquid sensation enter her and Shepard helped tuck the blankets over her in response. The quarian became slightly listless, her eyelids drooping noticeably, as the compound's relaxant effects already took hold.

"John…" Tali uttered sleepily.

"Tali," Shepard squeezed his wife's shoulder gently.

"R-Roahn… you have to…"

Shepard blinked and lowered his head down, unable to hear Tali clearly the first time.

"You need…" Tali gasped, "…to talk to your daughter. She… asks me every week… what you did before… before she was born. She is going to know… sooner or later… who you are. Whatever you do… you can't lie to her about this. You just can't."

Shepard did not respond to his wife, but merely waited until the glow from her eyes faded as she drifted off into sleep, leaving her request untaken, the troth hanging. With a final soft pat on the side of Tali's helmet, Shepard tightened the blankets over his wife one last time before he rose to leave her in peace.

"When Roahn is old enough," he whispered to the sleeping quarian, "I'll tell her."

But… the voice in his head lingered, am I still keeping to my word?

Opening his eyes to find the black expanse of space once more greeting him from the windows of the flight deck, Shepard breathed in heavily through his nostrils, pouring sterile air into his lungs while also dispelling his longing reminiscence, no matter how much he would have given anything to just jump in and live within his memories. They were the only place where his wife still lived, after all.

Shepard checked his chronometer and found that he had been daydreaming for damn near half an hour. Garrus and Roahn must be getting antsy down below, if they had not already started to wonder what had been taking him so long.

Shaking his head, Shepard flicked the last of the switches on the dashboard by flitting his hands over the haptic interface, causing the ship to disengage from Omega's docks fully and to move on a steady heading to the mass relay, the only exit out of this godforsaken system.

"I'm trying, Tali," Shepard uttered as he began to rise from his chair. "I really am."

Leaving the autopilot to do the rest of the work from here on out, Shepard clambered down the ladder as the main display began to run a calculated ETA for Thessia, the next destination on their journey. Satisfied that everything was now all in order up here, Shepard finished his descent towards the main deck, not content to leave his daughter and best friend alone for very long.

His presence was needed, after all.

---

A/N: I'm back from vacation, thoroughly rested and rearing to go! I know that some people have been clamoring for Garrus to finally make an appearance in this story (physically, at least), so hopefully this managed to meet your expectations. Rest assured, Garrus will now be sticking around for quite a while, so have no fear that I'm just going to dump him right away. What kind of idiotic move would that be?

At the very least, I should be getting back on a more regular schedule by now. Time to get back to work.

Playlist:

Roahn Returns/Garrus Arrives: "Idyll's End" by Hans Zimmer from the film The Last Samurai

Garrus and Roahn Speak: "Laura" by Marco Beltrami from the film Logan

A Tearful Discussion/Bedridden: "The Last Man" by Clint Mansell from the film The Fountain