It was easy to lose track of time on Pilgrimage. Growing up on ships that had no day or night hadn't done much for the quarian sense of time. Hours could roll into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. Had someone cared enough to ask her how long she had been sleeping on Jason Dray's couch, Daro'Xen nar Khalos may have been inclined to say that it had only been a week or two. It likely would have surprised her to uncover that it had actually been closer to two months.

Daro was not a fool. She had never been a trusting person, and that certainly had not changed. Months of loneliness, a job working her into the ground, and the recent loss of her family had taken a toll on her. The fact of the matter was, even being a social outcast her whole life, Daro still needed somebody to talk to. It amused her to no end that the only person in her travels who didn't look down on her like batarian refuse was a lonely, dusted-up hedonist.

"Always in the last place you look, like omni-tools," her mother had told her growing up, referring to manners and kind hearts in general. It was certainly true in this instance. If nothing else, at least Dray's home was considerably less hostile than the turian shelter or one of the colony's darker alley ways. Originally, Daro had been thoroughly unimpressed with Jason's antics, his devil may care attitude and incessant grinning wearing on her nerves. Over time, she had grown to appreciate them. He was so unlike the quarians she had spent her youth being shunned by. He was open with her. He walked through the world like he didn't care about anything, letting nothing bring him down. He listened to her when she talked, letting her vent her frustrations away, of which she had many. He kept her company and didn't think she was just a suit with a voice box, or at least he didn't treat her like she was one.

Daro hacked into the rock with her pick-ax, slicing apart the platinum from the basaltic crust. It was almost time for her shift to end; another long shift with no overtime. That was fine with her; life was hard work, and if she didn't die from it, it only made her stronger. Strength was something she could turn into a resource and use. It was valuable. Her muscles ached, but it didn't slow her down.

Daro turned her thoughts to "home". It was as alien a notion to her as the feel of rain on Caleston was to it's inhabitants. Home had always been the fleet. It felt strange when she considered the old couch and run down storefront as something more than a shelter for the night. If nothing else, she had found refuge there, from more than just the violent wind and howling storms. It wasn't much, but it was more than she was used to having. Strange that when she thought about what kept her going through these arduous days, she only thought about returning to the place she called home and that smirk she had grown accustomed to seeing. He was always so quick to laughter and jest. Where once her mind used to be filled with memories of childhood, Daro's mind now focused only on making it to the end of the day. Jason was kind enough to her, letting her babble incessantly when the mood struck her, never complaining about her nearly relentless snark. It was more than what she had received from most she had met throughout life. He was good company.

At least when he had his sand.

Daro sighed as she hefted the pick-ax over her shoulder, allowing her to catch her breath. She couldn't understand his addiction. She knew it simply wasn't part of her perception. She had never taken drugs, at least, not for recreation. True, she understood the medicine behind it, the euphoric affect red sand has on the mind and the withdrawal induced by the chemical's absence, but she could never understand how it truly felt to have it weighing on your life. Part of her did not like the fact that Jason relied on the drugs to keep himself level. Another part told her that it was none of her business, scolding her for prying into his life. What other people did in their spare time was their business, and as far as Daro was concerned, she was content to keep it that way. Still, she worried about him.

That bothered her. Caring was not something Daro was good at, it just wasn't in her programming. The fact that she had taken so well to an alien had unnerved her. She was always wary of some sort of betrayal. A trick, a trap waiting to be sprung. Yet, there was nothing. Ever night she went to bed, and every night she woke up, unharmed, to a grin and a pair of ears that took in everything she had to say. She couldn't really fathom it. Keeping her around to talk with, sure, but he didn't always talk that much, instead spending more time asking questions about her. Daro had told him everything he wanted to know, but it never seemed to satiate him. She couldn't blame him for his curiosity.

One night, he had asked her about quarian masks, and about the stigma behind hiding their faces. He had been curious as to what she looked like beneath her helmet.

"What do you look like under there Dee?" A simple question, for which she had a simple answer.

"I don't know."

That had resulted in an awkward silence. The subject was a sensitive one among quarians. Possibly the worst inquiry one could make was asking about a quarian's face. The average quarian wasn't out of their suit long enough to really become familiar with their own looks. It was part of the reason their masks were polarized. Decades of insecurity had lead to a society that valued hiding and privacy. Keeping one's face to themselves and their closest family or intimates was sacred. Their own face was one of the only things a quarian was allowed to keep for themselves. Daro had only even shown her parents hers, and those times were rare. They were always busy, rarely being able to take the sick leave. The memories of when they did however, had always been enough to bring some warmth to her heart.

Bringing down her pick-ax in a thundering flurry, Daro's mind drifted from her body. She enjoyed menial work, regardless of how back-breaking. It let her mind drift, it let her think. Jason Dray. He was all she could think about. It was disconcerting to say the least. Every instinct told her it was wrong. She was on pilgrimage. He was tricking her. He was using her for something, he had some kind of plan and was waiting to carry it out. Daro just couldn't wrap her head around why he was so accepting of her. She was having an even more difficult time accepting the fact that she actually enjoyed it. She enjoyed his company as much as he seemed to enjoy hers. The only person who had ever even tolerated her outside of her own cubicle was Shen. The entire notion of anyone else being so open was utterly foreign, even more so considering he didn't seem to want anything other than her company.

Daro felt a frown tug at her lips as she thought of the other day. Jason had paid her a surprise visit at her job last week. He had simply strolled in as though there wasn't a single problem with him intruding on private property. A handful of her co-workers attempted to hassle him for lounging around in their place of work, until they had realized he was the same man they had run into at the club. They hadn't bothered her for the rest of the day. Even the foreman hadn't said anything, not that he had said much of anything at all for the past few months. After their brief "encounter", he had barely spoken a word to Daro. She was glad for that much at least.

Jason's arrival had been a bittersweet visit, as it turned out. Jason had been laid-off from the Aratech Mining Corps. Caleston's economy had been plummeting since before Daro arrived, recent attacks by the recently rogue batarian government, or at least, their puppets, putting colonial development to a standstill, leaving less demand for raw minerals. Less demand meant suppliers couldn't afford to keep as many names on their payroll, and Dray's reputation as a heavy duster hadn't done much to help him keeping his name from dropping off Aratech's roster.

Jason had acted like it didn't bother him, but Daro could see it was taking it's toll. He had no income to keep his habit alive, and his weathered face was now plagued with even darker circles and a pale pallor. He had become irritable, tense. Sometimes she would come home and he would just be fidgeting on the couch, sweating in the sweltering heat and not even bothering to speak, anxious and paranoid. She had come home the other night to see her human host shivering and shaking in his chair, in the throes of a fitful sleep. Daro had unclasped her mother's shawl, using it to keep him warm. As she lay the dark, dirt encrusted cloth down on his twitching form, he had grasped her hand, holding it tightly. Daro rubbed the back of her hand absently at the memory. She remembered freezing in place at the touch, despite it being through a layer of anti-ballistic mesh. Jason had started to calm down after that, slinking into the chair and into quieter sleep. Daro let him rest, choosing to sleep on the couch, as usual. It was the first time she had ever slept in the same room as another person aside from her family.

The familiar blaring siren sounded, signifying the end of her shift and the uncomfortable ride up the lift into the mine's entrance. Nobody said anything, instead shifting to one side of the small cubicle, giving Daro plenty of space. Being a quarian was not without it's minute moments of levity, stepping out onto the planet's desert surface, the hooded pilgrim looked up into a clear sky for the first time in days. Clear weather was a blessing on Caleston, allowing a rare glimpse at the skies without choking dust clouds. Daro made the long trek home with Jason on her mind every step of the way. She wanted to help him in any way she could, but she wasn't sure why or how. This wasn't something that happened on the Flotilla. Drugs and other narcotics were simply unavailable. He had taken her in when she needed help, and it pained her seeing him in such distress. She could always pay for his sand, but that would leave less money for food, as well as for her pilgrimage. It wouldn't solve the problem.

She was afraid for him. He was a good person at heart, or so she had come to believe. Certainly better than any other she had met on her journey. He had his flaws of course. She certainly couldn't claim perfection. What mattered is that he cared for her, even when he didn't have to. He made her feel welcome in a place that had done nothing but spit on her and treat her like dirt. Daro laughed at her own absurdity. She was starting to sound like one of the girls who swoons whenever the captain walks by. It wasn't like her to act or think this way. Twenty some odd years of loneliness was clearly catching up to her. She found herself thinking about him whenever she went through another arduous day of labor or endured another biting remark on her way to what passed as her home. She found her heart racing when she thought of that crooked smile and sharp tongue, ready with another lightning-quick quip or a reassuring word. True, he had always made it clear just how much he had appreciated her company and how he never had many people to talk to in his life. Not to mention he had always been incessant with his playful flirting. Daro had to wonder what he must have thought of her. She was quarian and he was human. These things only happened in stories, and even then, it rarely worked out well.

Daro let out a weary sigh as she caught sight of the run-down building that served as her makeshift home, trying to shake off her doubts and frustrations. It didn't matter if he cared for her or not, she was going to speak her mind. She couldn't sit idly by while the only person who had treated her with anything other than disgust and perversion allowed himself to be torn apart by his chemical poisons. Daro pulled the door to the side, seeing Jason lounging on the couch of the run down living room, his body language suggesting he was in one of his darker moods. Maybe now wasn't the best time to confront him. The door slid closed, sealing with a pneumatic hiss before she light out an audible sigh from her voice modulator, stretching her arms over her head as Jason turned his attention to her. His voice carried a tone of feigned interest.

"Hey. How was work?" his voice rasped out. It sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks.

Daro felt the hollow pop of her elbow as she stretched, another weary sigh escaping her lips. "Abysmal, as usual. Did you eat?" It was a legitimate question. Jason hadn't been eating, his hunger reflex being completely subverted by his addictive habits. Jason gave a weak grunt that could hopefully be interpreted as positive as Daro joined him on the couch, already feeling her talkative side taking hold. "There are rumors floating about the mine saying that more jobs are going to be cut. Honestly, I grow tired of it. They have time to sit about like asari house wives and gossip, but not enough time to do their fair share of the work."

Jason turned his gaze to her, something approaching disdain in his eyes. "Then why don't you quit?"

A blunt and obvious question. Daro knew he was irritable, but she was never much of a people person. Had she been, she may have let the issue drop then and there. She didn't. "I have nowhere else to go. You know that. There wasn't a single place that would hire me before. Now things have only gotten wor-"

"Don't give me that shit. There's nothing keeping you here. Why the hell do you keep going to that dump? Do you like it there?"

Daro was shocked at his sudden burst of interruption. She knew it was the withdrawal. Still…

"What are you talking about? Like it? Why would I-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You walk in there with your skintight little get up, waving your ass around and act surprised when that scumbag tries to have at you with his stubby little fingers. You like the attention, don't you?"

Daro leaned away from him, wrapping her arms around her chest defensively. Any other time she would have left him to rot in this hovel he called a home, being sure to get the last word with a withering remark. It almost surprised her that she didn't.

"You don't mean that..."

Jason shot up from the couch, his argumentative grunts and rants turning to full-fledged shouts.

"Yes, I do! How do you think I feel? Huh? Did you ever think about how I might feel? You walk out of here wearing that... thing…and I-"

Daro stood up, her hands curling into fists, rage taking hold of her heart. He was treating her like everyone else she had met on Caleston.

"What did you say?" It was quiet and measured, but venomous, her words threatening hellfire and murder. It was enough to get his attention.

Jason stopped, his mind befuddled by the lack of chemical substance in his brain and stuttering. Even under layers of damaged thinking and murky thought processes, his words and their consequences were making themselves clear. "I... I didn't-"

Too little, too late. Daro screamed from beneath her helmet.

"What did you say? How you feel? I wear this so I won't die!" Daro was shaking with raw anger, visibly shaking Jason with fear and regret at his poor choice of words. "I can't feel anything! I never will! You have everything and you chose to squander it, wasting away in this slum." She gestured to the decaying walls that served as their abode. "You don't have the room to judge me."

She could see the shame and regret in Jason's eyes, but the damage was done.

"Dee... I'm sorry. I-"

Daro jabbed an accusatory finger at him, the silver glint of tears shining from beneath her mask.

"No. You don't get to call me that. Don't you dare. How can you judge me? You don't know anything about…" Daro's voice weakened, her words choking out through a cracked voice. "I thought you cared. I stayed here because I thought I had found someone who... who... could see me... not this damn suit... not the mask..." Gone was the militant scientist who could take down a battalion of the Hierarchy's finest. Here stood the same small girl who spent a childhood alone and friendless, watching as the one good thing she'd found in months burned at her.

Jason reached out, his hands brushing against Daro's shaking shoulders before she swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me. Never touch me."

Daro turned, storming out of the place she had foolishly called her home. Tears poured down her face as she walked through the empty streets, her muted sobs her only companion in the darkness as she hung her head low. She watched her tears pool on the surface of her visor, hating the pale and polished surface more than anything. What sadistic twist of fate would deny a person even the ability to wipe away their own tears? It was beyond cruel. Everything her people had endured, everything she endured, it was meaningless. Nobody cared. Nobody cared that the geth slaughtered them and nearly drove them to extinction. Nobody cared that they were forced to scavenge and steal and beg just to live another day. Nobody cared that they were spat on and beaten. Nobody cared that they were trapped in rusting metal tombs that threatened to burst open, spilling out everyone they loved in a heartbeat. Daro shuddered at the memory of her parent's funeral.

Daro stopped as she gazed up at the stars through teary eyes and pale glass. The sands of Caleston stretched out before her in every direction, Syneu a faint shadow in the distance beyond the dunes and the rocky outcroppings. She hadn't even realized she had walked so far. The thousand stars of the night sky glittered with perfect light, as though inviting her to rejoin them in the heavens. She was alone. Her people were alone. They always would be. There would be no return home, as many prayed for. There would be no savior, as many searched for. There was only the infinite stars for them, orbs of fire in the sky. They'd consume her people one day, it was a well known fact that the fleet only had about another century of life left in it. Quarians were the best engineers in the galaxy, but even they weren't miracle workers. Here people would fade away into the darkness, and nobody would mourn their passing. Certainly, nobody would mourn hers.

Something moved to her left, Jason tripping on a rock before regaining his balance and walking over to her. Daro turned back to the stars, averting her gaze from his guilty eyes. His frown was uncharacteristic. It was so unlike him to be this way. Or was it? Was the man she knew really just a series of chemical reactions in the brain altering the actions of this human standing before her? His voice was weak, as though all his misguided rage had vanished and left him desolate.

"Daro... I'm sorry." Daro's eyes looked back up into the heavens, unable to even look at him. "I didn't mean what I said back there. I... I do understand." Her fists clenched. He didn't understand anything. "I might not know what it feels like... but... Damn, I'm such an idiot. I didn't mean any of it." Daro turned to meet his simpering gaze, her eyes narrowed behind the visor.

"Then why say it?"

Jason shook his head, anguish putting weight into his words.

"It's not me. It's the sand. It's been my life... I haven't been me since my parents died..." Pathetic. Her parents were gone too. Jason had his drugs and his clubs to keep him distracted and free from thinking about his misery. She only had the sweltering heat of the mines and the degenerative gaze of the people who looked down on her. "Daro, I need help…"

Daro slowly turned, the starlight catching in the polished surface of her visor.

Jason's hands reached to her hood, pulling it back to fully reveal her helmeted head. Unsure of what to do, she let him continue.

"I do see you under there, Daro. I see who you are… and I think you see me too, under all of the…" his voice caught in his throat, "sand." Dark eyes found her iridescent silver under the helmet. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, I know… I just…" his voice trailed off, his stare burning into her heart.

Daro let her hands drift up to his face, her gloved fingers tracing along the contours of his lips before running through his short hair. She felt her heart race at the intimate gesture. Was this happening? This was so strange. This sort of thing only happened in stories. He cared for her. He wanted to be with her. She had found someone who saw through this mask and wanted her in the same way she wanted him. Everything was surreal, like she was back in recruit training and was experiencing the rush of her first live-fire practice. Colors blended together, time bent into something unrecognizable, and a feeling permeated her abdomen that threatened to cause her to double over.

"Jason... I want you to stop using." There it was. Plain and simple.

"Daro, I don't think… " His voice was cracking.

Daro brought a finger up to silence him, the fire in her gut giving her a sense of closeness she had never known before.

"Jason," she started, her voice whispering uncharacteristically, "I like you."

She said it. It felt like she was watching a bad romance vid. Everything felt detached, the stars, his weathered face in her armored hands. Daro didn't know where the words were coming from, she was barely aware she was speaking.

"I don't like seeing you like this," her voice was soft, a feeling in her throat as alien to her as the contours of the face she was so tenderly holding. "I want you to stop. I need you to stop. For me." It was an ultimatum. She needed to know if he really cared. This would prove it. This one thing would be enough to show her he was worth trusting, casting all doubts aside. If he could do this, maybe she had a future beyond blind service to the fleet, to a soulless mining corporation that worked her ragged. She'd finally have something for herself. It was selfish, but it was something she needed, more than she had ever cared to realize.

Jason's face was rigid, staring unblinkingly into her visor. When he finally spoke, his lips tugged into a small smile. Daro had missed it.

"I can try. If you'll help me."

Daro smiled behind her mask. "Definitely."

Jason's eyes looked to the side. "What about your people, Won't you have to go back?"

Silver eyes averted themselves to the desert sands, before finding dark orbs. "I'll complete my Pilgrimage once I have enough money saved up to afford something for the fleet." A wide grin wormed it's way across her veiled face, "…and at the rate that's going, I could be here for a very long time."

Daro pressed a finger up to his chest, her voice taking a serious tone.

"But you have to give up the sand. You need to quit, Jason. I'll be there to help you, but this is something you need to do." Her voice was soft again, "for us."

Jason breathed a heavy sigh, his eyes returning to hers.

"Alright. For you, I'll do it. I promise."

Daro's arms wrapped around his muscular frame, his strong arms returning the intimate gesture. His voice whispered into the audio enhancers of her helmet.

"C'mon, let's go home, my bed is getting cold."

Daro turned to his sly wink, a smug smirk crossing her face that was evident in her tone.

"Then perhaps you need a thicker blanket."