Chapter Thirty-Nine
A Very Fine Vintage

Omega, Sahrabarik

Afterlife was quiet. The dancers continued to gyrate, drinks were still served, and credits changed hands in any number of transactions – both above the bar and below. However, the atmosphere lacked passion. From her sanctum, the Queen of Omega was displeased.

Aria hated quiet. She craved the thrill that accompanied crowds. The smell associated with the crush of bodies. Voices and music blending into one sweet cacophony. The potential for violence. The sensation that the whole place was a potential conflagration, only ever a split second away from being consumed entirely.

Instead it was quiet and boring.

The station was slowly clawing its way back after the Cerberus occupation, but its citizens were still nervous. Business was slow across the station. Omega had yet to settle back into its comfortable routine. Then there was the subdued but open presence of Alliance personnel. Shepard and the Normandy, together again. Aria steeled her people for every eventuality, including another attack against the whole damn station. The worst had turned out to be a couple of inept Alliance spies who knew little. There hadn't even been the thrill of some messy kills. T'Soni had simply shot both spies in the forehead and ordered the bodies incinerated. Clean. Boring.

It wasn't as though Aria wanted Omega to be at the centre of more destruction. She just wanted…something.

"Aria?"

It was only Hanek. Hardly cause for excitement, but Aria needed a distraction. Her humourless second-in-command stood with a datapad clutched in his thick fist. She smirked. It made him look like a fucking secretary.

"I've got a security risk. I need your approval to take care of it," Hanek announced.

Aria folded her arms across her chest. So much for a distraction. "When have you ever needed my permission to take care of something so mundane? Make a fucking call, deal with it. Just keep the mess to a minimum."

Hanek turned on his heels, then hesitated. "Fuck. I can't make this call. Just watch the damn video."

Aria snatched the proffered datapad from Hanek with unconcealed annoyance. She immediately recognised the location as one of the upper wards, Dockside. What took longer was ascertaining the identity of the two figures kissing – a human female and an asari. A sneer curled one corner of her lip at the chaste kiss. It was all so fucking pedestrian. She was about to throw the datapad back at Hanek when the couple drew apart and recognition dawned. Kasos and that feeble excuse for a human soldier. Aria wasn't bothered to remember her name. Taylor? Who the fuck cares.

"What is it with my daughters and humans?" she asked herself, feeling a sudden and unexpected pang at the mere thought of Liselle. She looked up, caught the tail end of Hanek's surprise at her comment, and promptly threw the datapad at him. The Batarian's reflexes weren't what they had been and the device cracked against his forehead. "Why the fuck are you even wasting time filming this shit?"

"Just following orders," Hanek muttered sullenly. "You told me to act on anything that could threaten the little pyjak's safety."

"Yes, you should definitely dispose of this insipid human at once," Aria replied.

"And you'll deal with any shitstorm?" Hanek asked, all four of his eyes shining with pleasure.

"I was being sarcastic, you halfwit!" Aria jabbed her finger in Hanek's direction. She suppressed her urge to throw him off the balcony. "Of course there would be a fucking colossal shitstorm! The crew of the Normandy are my guests. Besides, Kasos can kiss whoever the fuck she wants. I don't give a shit."

Not to mention that this development was long overdue. Aria felt like laughing. The kid was an exceptionally slow learner. The laugh was short-lived as she noticed that Hanek had made no attempt to leave.

"There's talk you're losing your grip, Aria," Hanek eventually said, obviously annoyed that his sport had been curtailed. "That you should've sold Shepard out to the highest bidder. Now you're playing host while both Shepard and the Normandy have the run of your station."

"No one's talking," Aria sneered. She narrowed her eyes. "Because other than you and I, no one knows Shepard's on Omega. And I intend to keep it that way. If I find out otherwise, I'll know exactly who squealed."

"The price on her head is -"

"There's more at stake here than credits, you short-sighted fucktard. Now fuck off, before I dispose of you."

Knowing his employer well, Hanek made a departure before she could act on her threat, albeit making his point by leaving slowly. Aria was left standing alone, the datapad at her feet. She nudged at it with her toe. The image was frozen, Kasos' broad grin was clearly visible. She didn't know whether to sneer at the saccharine moment, or feel aggrieved that her daughter was starting to live a life independent of her machinations. The careful strings that Aria had pulled surrounding Kasos had kept her safe, but had not served the purpose she had intended. Instead of moulding a potential successor, she'd moulded an idiot. Perhaps it was time to take a more hands on approach? Or Kasos is just a lost cause.

And she was still needed to get the hell out of Afterlife and find some other diversion for the evening.

Someone was leaning against the wall as she descended the stairs. Her first instinct was anger. She didn't take kindly to anyone hanging around her private space. Then recognition followed. A predatory smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she recognised the commando whose nubile body she'd briefly enjoyed a few days earlier. Aria had wanted a distraction, she just hadn't expected one to present itself so readily.

"What the fuck do you want, little soldier?" Aria asked, her tone deliberately harsh.

Her body quickened in response when she recognised the expression on the young asari's face. It was an expression Aria enjoyed immensely – terror. She licked her lips as Kurin straightened and tried to look a little more like the commando she claimed to be. The evening had suddenly become far more promising.

"Why me?"

Oh, that's sweet. "Why not?" Aria shrugged. "Honestly, I expected you to put up more of a fight. It was a disappointment that your legs practically fell open the moment I touched you. Did you need to be fucked that badly?"

"No!" Kurin replied with more haste than necessary.

The younger asari's voice was laden with a satisfactory amount of repulsion. Aria was enjoying herself immensely already. "You being here says bullshit." She licked her lips. "Try not to follow me, then I might believe you."

Aria turned, walking back the way she had just come. She didn't bother injecting any sort of swagger into her step. She already knew that Kurin would follow of her own accord. A refusal was something Aria didn't need to consider.

"It's because of my family isn't it?" Kurin suddenly demanded with a hard edge to her voice. The commando remained standing near the bottom of the stairs. "Toying with me. It's all some sick game to wield influence over the Kurins."

Clearly the evening wasn't going to progress as smoothly as Aria had hoped. She ought to have known that the maiden would bring politics into what was supposed to be simple fucking. "I have no interest in having any sort of presence on Thessia," Aria replied in a bored voice.

The last time she had set foot on the asari homeworld was to bury Liselle. The place was more of a viper's nest than Omega would ever be.

"Is Omega not enough for you?" Kurin continued. "The Matriarchs will never accept someone like you."

The Matriarchs can kiss my ass! "Don't start with me, little soldier!" Aria looked over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs, her eyes narrowing. "I will fucking destroy you."

Kurin paused for the briefest of moments before, insanely undeterred by the warning, Aria heard her bounding up the stairs. "What if I want to be destroyed?"

Now that was surprising. Aria didn't look at Kurin until she regained the privacy of her aerie. When she did, she found stubborn determination written all over the maiden's face. Aria smirked and shook her head. It was all so very childish, and yet it was also something else. A reminder of sorts, of another maiden who had worn much the same expression when turning her back on her family centuries earlier.

Her earlier anticipation had long since fled replaced by an uncharacteristic melancholia. Aria suddenly wanted to be alone. "You don't mean that. Now piss off. I'm a very busy individual."

"Aria…" Kurin replied, her voice trailed off into a dry, husky whisper. The commando's bravado faltered. "Ever since…I-I can't stop thinking about you."

Fucking maidens. She's younger than Liselle, barely older than Mycea. What the fuck were you thinking? "I'm pleased to have made an impression, misguided as it is." Aria regarded the maiden with a cool gaze. Kurin was stunning, there was no doubt about that. She also possessed an intriguing quality. However, as much as Aria enjoyed playing a good game, she grudgingly had to admit that she did not want to see the younger asari hurt, let alone destroyed. "Go back to your own life, little soldier. You don't want this one."

Aria turned her attention back to the view she had scorned earlier out of boredom. Nothing in Afterlife had changed. Possibilities lingered just out of reach, simply waiting for her to seize them. She refused to give in.

It was some time before she gave in to the urge to glance over her shoulder. Kurin was gone.


"Fifty credits?" Myke spluttered in disbelief. She looked down at the non-descript bottle she held and tried to fathom how its liquid contents could possibly be worth fifty credits. To make things even more difficult, the label was written in an asari dialect she couldn't read. A quick glance at the time reminded her that she was running late. "How can I even be sure this stuff is the real deal?"

The asari wine merchant looked offended at the mere suggestion. "Kid, this is genuine Thessian Red, 2110 vintage."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Myke tapped her finger against the glass impatiently. "Shit…fifty creds. For one bottle?"

"If you don't have 'em, give the damn bottle back. I've got a few bottles of Elcor stuff I can sell to you at five credits a pop. I guarantee it'll get you drunk so quickly you won't realise it tastes like varren piss."

"I'm not trying to get drunk!" Myke protested, clutching the bottle tightly as the merchant tried to repossess it.

"Hey, I'm not running a charity here."

"Listen," Myke began hesitantly. "I've…invited a girl over to my apartment for the first time. I-I really like her. I wanted something nice."

Something changed slightly, a small smile softened the merchant's previously gruff features. "Shit. I'm a sucker for a bit of romance. Forty-five, that's my final offer, and I guarantee it's genuine. You'll get laid, trust me."

Myke felt her cheeks burn in response. "That's not why I want the wine."

The merchant shrugged. "Why the hell not? It's the only reason to buy Thessian Red. Look, do you want it or not?"

With her very pricey bottle of wine tucked inside her jacket, Myke hastened back to her apartment as quickly as she dared – not wanting to work up a sweat or drop the bottle.

She had enough time to hastily scrub her face, kick a pile of junk under her bed, and spend five minutes panicking about what to serve the wine in before Sam arrived. Even though it was expected, the buzzer almost gave her a heart attack. Everything was rendered completely unimportant the moment she opened the door to see Sam standing on the other side of the threshold. The human woman was dressed simply – pants and a short sleeved white top that left plenty of her gorgeous skin exposed to Myke's hungry gaze.

"You managed to find the place okay?" Myke asked as she ushered Sam inside. She winced. "Obviously, because you're here and not still wandering around the streets of Omega. Um…" For one of the few times in her life, Myke was struck speechless. Compliment her! "Um, you look really, really nice, Sam. No, not just nice, stunning!"

A dark spot appeared on each of Sam's cheeks. "No one's ever thought I was stunning before. Thank you."

Emboldened, Myke closed the distance between them. The palms of her hands were a little sweaty, but overall she thought the manner in which she wrapped an arm around Sam's back was exceptionally smooth. "Clearly you've dated a load of idiots."

The kiss that followed felt just as smooth, if a little over enthusiastic for a greeting. By the time they drew apart, Myke had Sam pinned against the wall, her top rucked up slightly to expose her stomach. Nerves curbed any further exploration, but nothing could wipe the grin that had taken over her face, or the way her heart palpitated wildly.

"I've got wine! Would you like a glass?" Myke asked. She reluctantly let go of Sam to retrieve the bottle of Thessian Red from her fridge and the two empty jars that were her substitute wine glasses. When she turned, Sam was trying not to smirk. Myke's euphoria was swiftly snuffed out. "What? It's the jars isn't it? I forgot all about wine glasses. This was the best I could do on short notice. They're clean though!"

Sam shook her head. The smirk was gone, replaced by an honest expression that almost made Myke's knees give way. "I don't care about the jars, Myke." She closed the distance between them and gently took both the bottle of red wine and the jars from Myke's grasp. "Why don't we enjoy the wine later?"

As Sam set everything down and turned her attention back to Myke, the asari couldn't nod fast enough. "Great idea." She swallowed nervously. "We can definitely drink it after we…um…"

The human occupied centre stage in all of Myke's senses. Her vision of course. Myke couldn't look at anything else. She didn't want to look at anything else. Sam's eyes were shining with unrestrained passion. If Myke wasn't actually looking at it, seeing it for herself, then she wouldn't have believed that anyone could feel that way about her.

Touch. Her hands returned to Sam's waist, thumbs brushing lightly against the bare skin just above her pants. Sam's skin was delightfully soft. Myke couldn't stop stroking it.

Scent. Sam was wearing some sort of fragrance. Myke didn't know what it was, except that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever inhaled.

The sound of her own breaths thumped in her ears. Was she panting? Sam kissed her again in a deliberately slow tease. The human drew back just as Myke was desperately wanting more. She was definitely panting.

"After what?" Sam asked.

"Oh, um, I didn't mean we have to-"

Sam silenced her with a brief kiss. "I want you to tell me what you want." Their breaths mingled in the limited space between them. Hot. Rapid. Even as Sam's words suggested confidence, the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves.

"I don't know," Myke replied honestly. She felt like she had arrived at a banquet, starving, but unsure of the etiquette. "I think…I think want to look at you, and touch you. And I want…" Myke swallowed. Sam was so close. "I want your hands on me….inside me. Is that…alright?"

"It's more than alright," Sam whispered. Her touch was feather light on Myke's cheek. "You can start by taking me to bed."

Myke felt slightly giddy as they manoeuvred across the apartment in a strange dance of kisses, caresses and the removal of clothing. It took seconds for Sam to shrug her out of her expensive leather jacket. It landed in a heap on the floor beneath their feet. Myke lifted her hands obligingly and Sam dragged her t-shirt up over her head. Her cheeks coloured. Like most days, she hadn't bothered with a bra. The small mounds of her breasts didn't warrant such an effort. Myke's cheeks burned as Sam stared at her torso. Any embarrassment she felt was short lived as Sam ducked down without hesitation. The human woman took one of Myke's dark purple nipples into a mouth that was burning hot. A harsh sigh escaped Myke's lips.

From that point her own hands seemed to be a few steps ahead of her addled brain as she fumbled through even straightforward tasks. The clasp of Sam's bra defeated her entirely.

"I've got this," Sam offered without a trace of impatience in her voice.

"And I think I'll just sit down," Myke offered quickly.

Grateful for the presence of the bed behind her, Myke sank down without taking her eyes off Sam. Despite the awkwardness, everything was progressing perfectly. Just as she had imagined. Better. Even in her wildest fantasies, her idle imagination could not have conjured this. Myke drank in the expanse of warm skin on offer. Her fingers twitched. A delicious warmth spread through her belly.

As she sat back on the bed, Myke shared Sam's laugh as the young woman struggled with her own clasp.

"I was going for smooth. I'm stuck with klutz."

"I don't know what a klutz is…but I like it," Myke said as the offending garment was finally removed. Sam hooked her fingers beneath the waistband of her pants and began to draw them down, taking her underwear with them. And finally Myke had an eyeful of as much skin as she wanted. "Goddess. I love it."

With one hand fumbling at her own waistband, Myke reached out and drew Sam's naked body onto the bed. As they knelt, their mouths met in an exchange as heated as their first greeting. It was dampened only by the fact that Myke couldn't remove her leather pants with one hand. She broke off for air, laughing as Sam noticed.

"I think I need a little help with my pants."

Myke had intended the assistance to be of an entirely practical nature however, as Sam took over the task altogether, Myke realised that it was intensely sexual. There was no haste, simply a deliciously slow reveal as Sam carefully drew the skin-tight clothing downwards, making every effort to touch as much of Myke's skin as she could. Sam's fingers left a tingling sensation in their wake, to the point where Myke could think of nothing else. Not even her own nakedness. That came slightly later, after Sam had tossed aside the pants and was kneeling above her, staring openly with her lips parted.

"What?" Myke asked, feeling self-conscious for the first time.

"You. You're…" Sam shook her head in disbelief. "Just…wow. I can't believe you would want me."

"Believe it," Myke said enthusiastically. Sam had simply voiced what she too was thinking. Myke reciprocated, staring unashamedly at Sam's body. From the dark, inviting tips of her breasts, to the triangle of hair at the apex of her legs. It was familiar, and yet so alien. "I want you," she said huskily.

Sam shuffled forward on the bed, moving closer. With careful movements, she eased one knee between Myke's legs and kept moving. Eventually she fell forward, catching her weight with her arms so she hovered above Myke. Her thigh now pressed firmly against Myke's core.

"Goddess," Myke whispered.

It was the simplest of contacts, yet it felt as though she was going to explode from the sudden friction. Sam pressed closer, she only had to lift her head a fraction to claim a kiss. As their lips danced, Sam started to move in a gentle rocking motion, grinding her thigh against Myke's sex. It was a sensory overload. Not just Sam's thigh, or the kiss, but the feeling of a naked body pressed against her own. Sam was so very warm. Myke could feel everything – from the rapid beating of Sam's heart, to the sensation of pubic hair pressing close to her own hairless sex.

Almost by accident, Myke ran one of her hands up through Sam's hair. She felt the strands pass through her fingers. Soft and numerous. For something which had seemed so important to her at one stage, it now felt as though she had done it a thousand times.

Everything that followed felt instinctual. The rhythm of their bodies. The way their hands moved, exploring flesh. Myke found herself with one of Sam's tits in her mouth. Through experimentation she worked out how to draw gasps and low moans from her new lover. She tried the second, whilst her fingers continued to work the nipple of the first. Sam's moans intensified.

Although there was an underlying urgency to their lovemaking, born out of an intense need, they did not rush. Nor were words necessary. Sam found the sensitive spot at the nape of Myke's neck by chance. The sharp cry that elicited from her throat was enough to let Sam know that the touch was particularly pleasurable.

Almost in tandem, their hands snaked lower. Sam rolled onto her side, eager to allow Myke access. Throughout they continued to trade kisses, becoming more heated now. Myke grinned around Sam's lips as she finally pressed one finger against Sam's core, finding her wiry hair damp. The inviting, deeper flesh was even damper still – to the point that Sam was well on her way to being soaked. She really does want me, Myke thought as she probed, searching for Sam's clit by touch and listening to her gasps.

"Myke!"

There! Myke teased it gently with the gentle pressure of her index finger. Sam bucked her hips forward greedily, clearly wanting more friction. Myke's smugness was short-lived as Sam suddenly reciprocated, finding her clit and starting to stroke it confidently. It was all Myke could do to keep up her own, uncertain rhythm beneath Sam's perfect touches. The human seemed to know exactly where to touch her and how fast to go. Myke tumbled, falling towards the precipice much too quickly. It became difficult to force words out between her urgent gasps from breath. She needed to come…and yet she wanted Sam to come alongside her. Myke needed to let her know but all that emerged from her mouth was a sharp cry.

She pushed outwards…searching.

Suddenly her mind was enveloped in the warm chaos that was Sam's mind. The delicious friction created by Sam's finger stopped as the human woman panicked at the unknown. Myke didn't know that Sam was scared. She felt it. She felt everything.

Goddess…fuck! A cold feeling suddenly gripped Myke's stomach, replacing her pleasure with horror. I've…we've melded. Sam…Sam, please calm down. You're alright.

Myke? How the bloody hell can I hear you in my head. I can feel your heart beat…and the blood pumping in your veins! What have we…

Done? We've melded. It's a meld. Myke tried to calm her own thoughts, but it was difficult when Sam's panic felt as though it was her own. Sam...Samantha, you need to relax. This is…normal.

Normal. How come you sound as though you don't know what you're doing. Surprise flooded the meld. Because you've never done this before.

No.

I didn't think asari could do it-

-without permission? Of course we can, but we wouldn't. We're…

Supposed to ask first?

Yes…I'm sorry, Sam. We usually learn this sort of stuff from our mothers, but-

-Leda never taught you. An image of Leda Kasos suddenly flooded the meld. Stunningly beautiful, but emotionally cold. They were both scared of her. You think it's because she didn't want you to know how terrible she was.

I knew. She just didn't want to show me. Myke tried to suppress the dreadful feeling of loneliness that the feelings stirred, but she couldn't keep it to herself. She was suddenly angry. Her mother was decades dead, and yet she still had the capacity to hurt her. Myke concentrated on the buddle of fear radiating from her lover. Sam…are we…are we okay? I think I can break it off-

No! Please don't. I think I just need a moment.

Okay…okay, I can do that. The panic already started to subside, replaced by a sense of awe and exploration from both of them. We have time to get used to this.

This…is wonderful. I can feel you…everything. I know how badly you need this. Sam resumed her attention on Myke's clit. Myke desperately want to feel Sam's fingers inside her azure, and then they were. Sam thrust upwards, claiming Myke gently. I know exactly what you want.

They resumed their lovemaking within the embrace of the meld. It intensified everything, almost to the point where Myke did not know where Sam began and she ended. They were one. One organism moving together towards a shared goal. There was no need for words as Myke felt Sam's pleasure through their bond. She thrived on it. Revelled in it. This was what had been missing from Myke's experience. No amount of watching dancers in Afterlife could compare to the reality of being wanted by another individual, of bringing them to an all-consuming climax.

Myke came alongside Sam. It was everything the vids had promised, and yet in no way resembled such fakery. What she was experiencing was real. Sam was in her arms, coming violently into the palm of her hand. In turn, Sam buried her finger one last time deep in her azure, filling her with warmth and pushing her over the edge into ecstasy.

As the tremors died and their sweaty bodies relaxed into a contented state, they lingered in the meld. For both of them it was something new and exciting, yet safer than they had ever felt.

Myke wondered if it was time to open the wine….and suddenly Sam's polite refusal at the start of their evening made sense. Her toes curled with embarrassment. I wasn't supposed to chill red wine.

It'll be room temperature again soon…after our second go. Sam's mirth flooded the bond…and her lust.

Second go? I won't say no.

An imagined image of Sam kneeling between Myke's thighs flooded the bond. Trying to stop it only made it worse. Sam's tongue was working against her sex, driving between her folds as she writhed. I'm sorry! Sam, you don't have to…

Sam licked her lips. Nodded eagerly. Looks like you didn't need the wine to get laid after all, Kasos.


Goddess!

Although Liara managed to keep any sound from escaping her lips, her sudden movement into a sitting position startled her sleeping bondmate. There was enough light for her to make out Shepard blinking sleepily in her direction.

"Li? Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Evan." Liara bent and deposited a kiss on Shepard's forehead. "Go back to sleep."

It was a trademark of Shepard's profession that she could return so swiftly to slumber. Less than a minute later, Liara felt the gentle rise and fall of the body pressed against her side. Although, in true Shepard fashion, an arm was wrapped securely across her lap. Clearly doubting that she was fine, it was her bondmate's attempt to protect her whilst sleeping. Liara managed to extricate herself from the grip with only a sleepy murmur of protest.

Liara dressed perfunctorily, the images of her nightmare lingering behind her eyes. She cast one more glance over her shoulder at her sleeping bondmate before leaving the room, and the apartment altogether.

Omega never fully slept. Even though Liara knew it was deep into the night cycle, life was abundant everywhere. Although perhaps a less salubrious form of life. Liara kept her hood up and her feet moving, somehow knowing that the individual she sought would not be asleep.

Samara answered the door. There was no trace of surprise on the justicar's face at the sight of someone on her doorstep. Liara was ushered inside without a word. She followed as if in a trance, unable to fully comprehend what had compelled her to leave the warmth of Shepard's arms.

Even when she took a seat opposite Samara on the hard, woven mat at the centre of the room, Liara doubted whether she could give voice to her fears. While Samara was undoubtedly part of the Normandy family, on a personal level Liara could only go as far as to call her an acquaintance. They had spent little time alone and Liara suddenly felt self-conscious beneath Samara's grave, astute gaze. For all the power she wielded, she possessed none of Samara's presence.

"I would offer you refreshment but given the late hour, there is an unmistakable urgency about your presence. How can I offer assistance, Liara?"

"I do not know it is assistance as such…advice, reassurance," Liara began hesitantly. She suddenly felt foolish for being unable to deal with her own fears. "Justicar, I do not want to waste your time-"

"Samara." It was a firm, quiet interruption. "And my time is not yours to waste. I would hope that you sought me out because I am best placed to offer you what you seek. More so than Shepard."

"Shepard would seek to allay my fears, but it would come from a place of love…as opposed to reason. I need honesty, Samara, not coddling."

Samara made no response, nor expression, but Liara realised how ridiculous the statement was as soon as it left her lips. If anyone were to give her honesty, it would be Samara.

Liara drew in a deep breath before beginning. "Near the end of the war I was captured by Cerberus. Their intention was to trade me for the Catalyst. The situation was hopeless. I had resigned myself to my fate, not knowing the circumstances that would lead to my irrational bondmate sacrificing her life for my own. While I was a prisoner, an asari aligned with Cerberus tortured me using technology developed by Henry Lawson to replicate the Reaper's cruel genetic engineering. A device that would transform an Ardat-Yakshi into a Banshee." Liara paused. She remembered the monastery on Lesuss all too clearly. "Samara, I apologise if this is difficult for you…"

"No apology is necessary, Liara." Samara's voice was even. "I am simply reminded that Rila died honourably and bravely. Please continue."

Liara inclined her head. "At the time I thought the transformation had succeeded. There were the obvious cosmetic changes – my markings – but I felt something within me…a demon trying to escape." She suppressed a shiver. "Although the worst never eventuated, ever since I have felt…different. Then came nightmares. Sparse at first, scattered…increasing in frequency only recently. Especially after Evan expressed her desire for a child."

She remembered her cool response to Shepard's admission when she was unable to share the reason for her reticence.

"I had not told her about the nightmares. They are always the same. I am carrying a child. It starts out like a dream. There's a look of joy on Evan's face each time. Then the birthing turns into a horror. The babe…a Banshee, claws its way out of my womb." Liara could no longer stop trembling. Usually she was adept at pushing the emotions and images to the back of her mind, but to hear them spoken aloud gave them substance. "I know it is merely a dream…but I cannot help but feel as though it is a portent. That if I do attempt to bear children, they will be born Ardat-Yakshi. Justicar…Samara, I had hoped that you might have some…insight."

Liara was almost relieved that Samara did not show any emotion in the wake of her explanation, just a measured calm. Samara's gaze somehow drove the repeating nightmare from her mind. The trembling gradually subsided before disappearing altogether.

"I cannot claim to have any scientific knowledge, but in recorded asari history, an Ardat-Yakshi has never manifested amongst the offspring of a mixed-species couple."

"By the Goddess I know, but the dream…and the memory of what Aegir did to me. Both haunt me."

"Aegir?"

Liara had hoped to avoid mentioning the name aloud. "My elder sister – a psychopath. My mother banished her to a monastery when she was a child. She grew ever twisted and crueller to the point where her life was consumed by seeking revenge against her family…me." Liara closed her eyes. She remembered Aegir's death with stunning clarity. Even the warmth as she thrust her hand through her sister's chest. "I…killed her on Intai'sei."

"An act you regret."

"No!" The protest escaped Liara's lips instinctively. As if the word alone wasn't enough, she shook her head vehemently. "No. She was a monster."

"Why was she a monster?" Samara asked calmly.

"She was born a monster," Liara replied quickly.

"Or was she not given the opportunity to be anything else?"

"I-I…" she faltered. Liara had expected to confront a nightmare, just not the familial nightmare that was Aegir. Unable to meet Samara's gaze any longer, she ducked her head, feeling every inch the naïve maiden confronted with the justicar's revealing acumen. "I do not know."

"Liara," Samara said softly. "I cannot think of two individuals who will make better parents. The root of your nightmare does not lie with your potential children, but with the fact that you have not taken the time to mourn your family, to understand what that means."

A shuddering breath escaped Liara's lips. Although it had been tragic, she had always viewed Benezia's death as a mercy. Her father had died at the height of the War. Her mourning had been intense, but necessarily brief. And she had never mourned Isini. Liara had always perceived that death to be justice.

What if she had found it within herself to forgive her sister? Liara's first instinct was that Isini would have thrown it back in her face, but she had never tried.

"And even if, by some cruel twist of fate, your daughter is born an Ardat-Yakshi, you will love her regardless," Samara finished. "Just as I loved Morinth and Rila. Just as I love Falere."

Liara smiled softly. She had absolutely no doubt that Shepard would make a brilliant father. Her only hope for the future was that their daughter inherited an iota of her father's bravery, resilience, and compassion.

"Thank you, Samara. Your counsel has been…invaluable."

Samara nodded. "Although I must also thank you. The manner in which I have been accepted so readily. You and Shepard have given me purpose again. Even though my way of life is dying, I still feel a sense of hope. Will you remain with me, Liara and mediate a while?"

"I have not meditated in a long time, not since I was a child, but yes, I will."

As Liara closed her eyes in an attempt to find the necessary space in which to begin, she was unable to stop a strong flood of emotions. While some reservations remained, and her discussion with Samara had stirred a great deal of discomfort, she wanted to go to Shepard. To rectify the last conversation about children, in which she had been cold and distant.

Liara needed Shepard to know just how much she was looking forward to being a parent at her side.


Mindoir, Attican Traverse

"We're reaching crisis point here, Lieutenant Lawson."

Miranda was doing her best to pay attention to the man crouching beside her, but it was difficult to do anything other than think about the fact that her arms were buried to the bicep inside a cow. Inside a fucking cow.

"These Friesians have adapted to life remarkably well on Mindoir, but we desperately need to diversify the breeding stock. I've been waiting on a shipment of top quality semen from Earth for over six months, not to mention the basic supplies for our veterinary clinics…"

Great. Almost up to her shoulder in a cow's birth canal, talking about semen. Miranda looked over her shoulder and confirmed her fears. Jack was doubled over, arms clenched around her stomach in an effort to keep her guffaws silent.

"Okay, this wee nipper's just got its elbow caught," the vet pronounced. "Hold on a sec…okay, now give 'er a gentle tug, Lieutenant. She should come out pretty easily now."

Miranda obligingly pulled on the calf's feet. Less than a minute later, she was greeted with the absolutely disgusting sight of an animal, covered in birthing fluids, presenting itself on the grass it front of her. She stared at the limp form for a few moments, before a slight panic gripped her.

"It's not breathing."

"She just needs a little help," the vet was unconcerned. "Just stick your fingers up her nose and scrape out the amniotic fluids."

"Oh, of course." Miranda felt slightly childish.

Sure enough, eventually the animal appeared to be breathing easily on its own. Miranda sat back on her haunches and tried to block out the smell and the sight of the mess covering her uniform.

The vet turned to her with a grin on his craggy face. "If you're ever in line for a career change, ma'am, you'd make a hell of a great farmer."

I'm quite sure I wouldn't, Miranda thought acidly. "We'll do our best to get what you need," she reassured him as she urged her stiff muscles into a standing position. "I wouldn't think that…semen is a priority, but I will definitely follow up on your supplies."

He nodded his thanks. "It sort of feels as though the Alliance has forgotten about us…except for your garrison of course. I've been a part of a few colonies in my time, and I have to say your people do your service a credit. And I'm much obliged for the assistance with Doris here."

"It was my pleasure," Miranda replied, honestly enough, at least until she re-joined Jack. The petite biotic was now laughing openly. "Don't even say…"

"You and Doris make a fucking cute couple. Kid looks just like you too," Jack slapped a hand against her thigh.

Miranda gritted her teeth. They started walking. Despite the fact that she was already filthy, she did her best to avoid treading in the copious amounts of cow shit in the field. "Have the rest of the squad finished with that generator?"

"Nope, apparently it's a bigger job than they anticipated, another several hours yet."

Fuck. Miranda wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a change of clothes. Still, as she looked out at the small farming community clustered around their generator, she knew it was imperative that it be up and running as soon as possible. Nearby, she heard children's shouts as they climbed a tree. Behind her, Doris's calf was already trying to stand on its spindly legs. Despite everything that had happened on Mindoir, both with the Batarian attack decades earlier and the War, life continued as normal. It was simple…and sweet.

Although Miranda still had absolutely no urge to be a farmer.

"Figured we'd take one of the Grizzlys and head back to base though," Jack continued, much to Miranda's relief. "Parker can keep an eye on things here. You badly need hosing down, Cheerleader. You reek worse than the pisspots on a fucking prison ship."

"And you would know," Miranda fired back scathingly. The last vestiges of her good mood disappeared. "I'm going to find somewhere to wash up."

Half an hour later, the silence in the back of the Grizzly was filled with a simmering resentment. Miranda had done her best to fix herself up – although that merely constituted washing her hands with strong smelling soap and stripping off her outer layers. Up front, the two marines talked contentedly amongst themselves, Miranda and Jack sat in silence.

Jack was pretending to sleep while Miranda did her best to warm herself with her arms. Clad in just a t-shirt and a pair of compression tights, she could do little to stop shivering. Since their encounter in the shower their relationship had changed, for lack of a better description. Miranda couldn't shake Jack's honest offer of sex. The fact that someone was willing to do that for her was a revelation. Friends weren't something that came naturally to Miranda. Since serving on the Normandy, her life had changed immeasurably. She'd had lovers who meant something beyond routine fucking and friends actually willing to put themselves on the line for her.

Miranda regretted her earlier throwaway statement. She'd read Jack's file and knew exactly what had happened to her on Purgatory. Something entirely outside the realm of Miranda's own comprehension, but – recently at least - not her compassion. She had a sudden strange and overwhelming urge for Jack to find happiness – whatever form that might take.

"Jack?"

The ex-convict cocked one eye open. "What?"

"I apologise…for what I said back there. It was unnecessary."

"Yeah well, when has that ever stopped something leaving your great big flapping lips, Cheerleader?"

"I was irritated. I took it out on you."

"Next time keep your little PMS outbursts to yourself," Jack muttered. "Don't wanna be reminded of that shit."

"I know. And you won't be…not by me," Miranda promised.

"Thanks," Jack said grudgingly. She opened both eyes and sat up a little straighter in her seat. "Still, saying that's not gonna stop me from bringing today up whenever I feel like it. Got a few pics on my omni-tool for posterity."

"You're a bloody bitch, Jack," Miranda shook her head.

Jack shrugged. "Someone's gotta keep you honest."

Jack flashed her teeth in a quick grin. She also shrugged out of her oversized hoodie before tossing it across to Miranda. Far too cold to refuse, Miranda nodded her thanks as she pulled it on over the gooseflesh on her arms. She even went as far as drawing up the hood, creating a fairly pleasant cocoon of warmth. There was also a half-eaten packet of dried fruit in the pocket and she helped herself to a handful, hoping that she'd scrubbed her hands thoroughly enough. She passed the remainder to Jack.

"My skin's crawling, Lawson," Jack commented thoughtfully. She poured some of the fruit out of the packet directly into her mouth. "The lack of communication, our supplies drying up? Something's rotten…and it's not just the way you smell."

Miranda ignored the barb. "I know. Even if there aren't enough resources to keep the Colony supplied, there would be a duty to keep us informed. The fact that isn't happening has me worried. I loathe being out of the loop."

Jack snickered. "You loathe it, I fucking hate it. You know, I was thinking-"

"Oh god no." Miranda let out a groan at the thought of Jack thinking. "Please stop…immediately."

"Stow it, Cheerleader." Jack folded her hands behind her head. "I was thinking about Captain Perfect. If anyone can pull some strings with the brass to get this mess sorted out, it's gotta be your girlfriend."

Miranda shook her head. "I'm not going to speak to Ashley simply for the sake of asking her to use her position. It's cruel…for both of us. And I'm not ready to have a conversation about forgiveness."

"What she did was shitty, but you need to cut her some fucking slack."

Miranda raised her eyebrows. "You've changed your tune. A couple of days ago you wanted to make her regret the day she was born."

Jack shrugged. "What can I say, I'm the forgiving type."

"Bollocks, you'd carry a grudge to hell and back."

"You need to accept that it's war, people do weird shit."

"We're not at war, Jack."

"C'mon, you're supposed to be some sort of genius!" Jack scoffed. "The war didn't end with London, it just changed. Went subversive and shit. And you know as well as I do that you don't have the luxury of time while you're fighting a war. Kinda like when we went up against the Collectors. None of us expected to survive which led to all sorts of weird shit going down. You and Shepard? Tali and Garrus. Me and the boy scout. Tell me any of that would've happened if you knew you were coming back. How do Turians and Quarians even work by the way?"

"Hold on. You…and Jacob?" Miranda asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. So? I got needs. Besides, it was just that once. The night before." Jack shrugged. "It was either get plastered or fuck someone…and I didn't want to take a hangover into the Collector base. And you don't need to worry, Lawson, he didn't share any of your dirty little sex secrets."

Miranda suppressed the urge to shiver. That had happened a handful of times. Now the thought that she and Jack had shared the same lover was a distraction she didn't really didn't need. "Thank you for that…special insight, Jack. But I really don't see what the point of sharing was…other than to not help matters. At all."

"My point, Cheerleader, is that he fucking died the next day. I didn't love him. Fuck, I was always bored before he even opened his mouth," Jack explained. "But the guy was always decent to me, y'know? Then boom – fucking catches a laser beam from one of those crab things in the chest. Dead."

"Jacob was a good guy," Miranda agreed. She paused, bit her lip. Felt slightly sick. "Ash isn't in any danger."

Or at least not any longer. You saw her face when she came back from that op. Miranda closed her eyes, picturing Ash's limp purple hair and unhealthy pallor. She almost died and you burned her over a fucking kiss.

"So, did my little pep talk work or are you going to continue being a miserable fucker?" Jack demanded.

Miranda didn't open her eyes. She had already moved past the last time she had seen Ash, and was thinking about their time together in Australia. Ash was sprawled across the bed after their last bout of fucking. Her olive skin was caught by a few rays of sunlight streaming through the holes in the curtains. She'd only been gone long enough to get a glass of water, returning to find Ash fast asleep. Although Miranda hadn't been tired, she'd curled up on the bed and spent an hour just basking in her marine's presence. Stroking her skin. Listening to her soft snores. Miranda wanted more afternoons like that one.

A lifetime of afternoons.

"Yes, Jack. I'll send her a vid."

"Fantastic," Jack replied smugly. "One word of advice though, have a shower first. You've got dried…whatever the fuck it is, on your face. Shit from that cow's uterus. It's fucking disgusting."