Shepard woke early, as usual; neither rain nor sleet nor crash-landed turians would keep this life-long farm girl from rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn. Said turian was passed out on her couch, snoring softly, his mandibles flicking in his sleep. She stifled a giggle and stood up to stretch (sleeping on the couch was not good for her back at all), then padded lightly upstairs, making sure to skip the squeaky one. The gray morning light was all her eyes could stand at this hour as she brushed the morning out of her mouth and smoothed her hair back. After a futile attempt to tame the great red monster growing out of her head, she opted to just pile it up and tie a bandanna over it. She put on a pair of jeans that had been stained so many times that the original color was anyone's guess, and one of her brother's old plaid work shirts with mother-of-pearl snaps and epaulettes. It was one of her favorites, the fabric worn so thin it felt like peach skin and smelled of burning leaves.

Shepard went back downstairs and poked her head into the living room to verify that yes, Garrus was still asleep, before going into the kitchen to check the ice box. They'd have to order more milk from the Williamses soon—their dairy was about three miles down the road and Ashley was always willing to trade a few gallons for some of Shepard's apple butter and a jar of 'shine. She pulled out some bacon and eggs and brought down her favorite cast iron skillet from its place on the wall. The morning light was brightening and slanting through the windows, the house was full of the smell of frying bacon, and Shepard set about planning how to lug the wreckage of Garrus' ship out of the woods without anyone seeing it.

"Life could be a dream, if I could take you up in paradise up above," she sang, her voice pitched low. "If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love, life could be a dream, sweetheart. Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hoping we'll meet again." She set a pot of coffee on the back burner and was going to check the bread box for biscuits when she spotted Garrus leaning in the kitchen doorway with an amused half-smile on his face.

"Hey there," he said, pushing off and wandering into the kitchen. "What was that you were singing?"

"It's called 'Sh-Boom' by The Chords. I had that record on all the time last summer."

"You have a nice voice, you know."

Shepard smiled sheepishly and had to turn away to hide the blush that colored her face. Oh Jesus, Jane, stop acting like a teenager! "You sleep all right?"

"Well enough, I guess. I wouldn't want to do it all the time, though. You?"

"Same. My back isn't what it used to be, and it's been reminding me all morning," she said, knuckling her lower back to illustrate the point.

He chuckled, his sub-vocals reverberating warmly. "I know the feeling. I think I must have pulled something in the crash."

"Well, aren't we the walking wounded this morning?" She shot him a grin and turned back to the stove to load up her plate. "Do you want any of this? It's bacon and eggs; I don't know if human food would agree with you, though."

"It wouldn't. The biology is a bit complicated, but basically it wouldn't have any nutritional value and I'll probably have a mild reaction to it."

"Is there anything you can eat?"

"I have about a month's worth of ration packs with me. All I need is some boiling water and I'll do the rest."

They sat down at the table and she watched him eat. His mouth didn't close completely, so he had to tilt his head back and swallow each bite with minimal chewing. Those teeth of his looked more suited to piercing and tearing, and so did the rest of him for that matter. Maybe turians were what the dinosaurs would have evolved into had they not been wiped out. There were evolutionary biologists out there who would kill for the chance to study him . . . and that was one hell of a sobering thought. If she'd learned anything about human nature from watching the news reels showing the concentration camps in Auschwitz and Dachau, it was that for every person with good intentions there was someone else willing to exploit them. No, she had to play this very carefully from here on out.

Once they had finished, she led him out the back door and into the barn where the truck was parked. She grabbed a length of chain and a large burlap tarp and tossed them into the trailer, then had Garrus help her back up to the trailer so she could hook it on. The truck was a 1948 Ford F6 that had seen better days and it was a monster to drive; you had to have arms of steel to steer it and it took a bit of cranking to get it to turn over, but it was built like a tank and ran with minimal maintenance. The one feature she needed it for today, though, was its ability to haul heavy loads.

Garrus climbed into the passenger seat and they set off, bumping across the field to the tree line. She recognized the spot immediately and unhitched the trailer, then backed as far as she could into the trees. She was pleased to find that she was able to get within about twenty feet of the ship before the trees grew too thick to pass between.

They went to inspect the ship, and in broad daylight the damage was even worse than she remembered. There were bright scars shearing though a few trees along the landing path and a considerable amount of debris piled up around the front. The fire hadn't damaged it overmuch from what she could see, and she hoped Garrus was able to find all the components he needed. He circled around the ship and pushed against it experimentally. It didn't budge, but it didn't look as though it was buried too deep; if the truck could get enough traction, they could probably move it. It would be getting it through the trees that could prove problematic.

The whole operation turned out to be a lot easier than she thought, though. They hauled it out with only one hang up, and dragged it up onto the trailer. They covered it with the burlap and tied it down, then hitched the trailer back up and hauled the ship back to the barn. It only took about two hours, and most of that was spent trying to figure out where to secure the chains so they wouldn't snap in half and kill somebody. Shepard breathed a lot easier once they were back in the relative safety of the barn.

"I think we can leave it on the trailer for now, unless you need it for something," said Garrus as he loosened the ropes that held the tarp down.

"No, that's fine. I need to get a few things done before it gets too late; lots of chores to do and I've got a late enough start as it is."

"Hey, don't let me keep you." She clapped him on the shoulder and left, a hush falling over the barn in her wake. He peeled back the tarp and gave his ship a once-over; he really was lucky as hell to be alive, much less mobile after an impact like that. The oxygen filtration systems were destroyed and the drive core had shorted out, but the fuse panel and scanning systems were largely untouched. He breathed a sigh of relief; all the parts were there, he just had to get to them and fit them into the transmitter. And stay out of sight. And try to explain to his superiors why he had been sharing forbidden knowledge with a human. And eventually he was going to have to actually go fix that beacon he'd come here for in the first place. He put a lid on that line of thinking and focused on the task at hand.

Shepard came by a few hours later to give him a glass of water and insist he take a break. They sat on the tailgate of the truck between bars of yellow sunlight that lit up the tiny bits of chaff that hung in the air and glinted off the red in the little spirals of hair that stuck out of her bandanna. Human fringes were so strange, all those tiny pieces that seemed to serve little purpose. Part of him (and he wasn't about to admit to himself how big a part) wanted to know what that wavy red mass felt like between his fingers.

His reverie was interrupted by the distant crackle of gravel under tires. Jane hopped down from the tailgate and went over to the door, just catching the familiar dark green of her brother's truck disappear past the house.

"Looks like John's back. I'll go distract him, just hang out here for a minute." Shepard jogged across the yard and around to the front porch. John was fishing in the truck for something and there were three guys milling around waiting for him. They all turned to look at her as she rounded the corner and stopped in front of them.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," she said cheerfully. "I'm Jane Shepard, John's sister."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Jacob Taylor," said the tall black man to her left. He struck her as a polite, well-spoken guy and his handshake was firm without being overbearing.

"James Vega," said a voice from behind him. James hoisted a camo green duffel bag over his shoulder and jumped to the gravel with a grunt. He was built like a bear and Shepard couldn't help but be impressed.

"You look like you could bench press a front loader, big guy," said Shepard, and the man leaning against the quarter panel snorted.

"Yeah, Big McLargehuge over here spent the whole ride telling us about the time he had to lift a tractor out of the mud all by himself." He took her hand and gave it two quick pumps before abruptly letting it drop. "Jeff Moreau, but everyone calls me Joker."

"Pleasure to meet all of you. Excuse me, I've got to talk to my brother for a minute." At that moment, John shut the truck door and came around to greet her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. He bent his knees, wrapped her in a rib-crushing grip, and lifted her clean off the ground. She squealed and hugged him back.

"Hey, Jane. It's damned good to see you," he said, setting her back on her feet.

"Likewise, glad to see you made it here all right." They all started off toward the small guest house that stood between the second and third fields that they'd had built a few years ago during a particularly good harvest year. It was easier to sleep people there rather than in try to find room for them in the main house. There was no running water but it had electricity, a clean outhouse in the back, and a grill for cooking simple meals. Jane normally took care of dinner herself so everyone could sit down together and get to know each other at the end of the day. Shepard and John hung back a little so they could talk out of earshot.

"You know, Jane, I don't understand people sometimes." He sighed wearily and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, no. What happened?"

"First of all, I had to drive clear to Charlottesville to find enough people to bring back since we're starting so late in the season. My own damn fault, I guess, but anyway I picked up Jacob just outside of Short Pump. He was standing out on the road asking anyone who came close enough if they needed any help, and one guy . . . this asshole in a Chevy puts his nose in the air like the goddamn king of England and says, 'I would never let one or your people anywhere near my daughters.'"

"Did you hit him?" Jane asked and hoped the answer was yes. She'd grown up in the South, but that didn't make the rampant ignorance any easier to deal with.

"It was a near thing, but no. I hired Jacob on the spot, though, and the look the guy gave me was priceless, like I had just shit in his Wheaties." He rolled his shoulder and stretched, then let his hands drop to his sides with a sigh. "This is modern America, Jane. We defeated the Nazis, but we still can't manage to treat people in our own country decently."

"They only just started desegregating the schools last year, John. We're on the right track, just give it some time."

"I hope you're right. Anyway, enough about that. Did anything happen while I was away?"

Ho boy, here goes. "Well, let's see . . . the fourth field needs another dusting, I fixed the transmission on the combine so it'll be ready to go tomorrow, we need to build an enclosure for the garbage cans because Mr. Anderson's dog keeps knocking it over, and . . ." She stopped, unsure where to start.

"And you wrecked the truck?" John supplied with a smirk.

"No, but John—"

"You joined a commune of nuns?"

She laughed and punched his arm. "Stop it! John, something—" She lowered her voice and John had to lean in close to hear her. "Something crashed in the woods last night."

"What, like a plane?"

"Uh, not exactly. It was . . . ummm . . . I think it'd be easier if I just showed you."

"Jane, I don't have time right now to go tromping through the woods."

"You don't have to, it's in the barn."

"What?"

"Shut up!" Jane hissed. "I put it in there this morning. Look, let's just get the guys settled in the house first and I'll explain everything. But you have to promise not to flip out."

He gave her a suspicious look, but he nodded. "All right. But this had better be good."

"Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

They left the boys in the guest house with the promise of dinner and a tour later, and the siblings headed to the barn. "Okay, no ears around but the corn. Talk to me Jane, what the hell is going on?"

So she told him the whole story from waking up and seeing the smoke in the woods to shining the flashlight on the limp alien in the cockpit. John listened without interrupting, his face unreadable.

"Hang on, you mean to tell me there's a crashed alien ship sitting in our barn?"

"That's right," Shepard replied and watched him as though if she stared at him long enough he would tell her what he was thinking. His lack of reaction was worrying.

"With a dead alien in it."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did, you just told me you saw an alien sitting in the cockpit."

"I never said he was dead."

John stopped in his tracks so abruptly that he stumbled. He turned to look at her and his eyes were wide as dinner plates. "There's a live alien in our barn? Are you sure you haven't been sampling the product, Jane? You know what that stuff does to you."

"I can assure you, dear brother, that I have not been drinking moonshine while you were away. There is an alien in our barn right now, and his name is Garrus."

"I swear to god, Jane, if you're messing with me—"

"Just come on and see for yourself." He was trying so hard to believe her, bless him. Shepard entered the barn first with John close on her heels and she heard him gasp when he saw the ship sitting in the trailer. There was a rustling from the vicinity of the truck and Garrus appeared, moving slowly and trying to look as unthreatening as possible. John's eyes were practically bugging out of his head and he looked from Garrus to his sister with his mouth hanging open.

"That's, um . . . that's him, huh?"

"No, that's the other alien I told you about." She slapped his chest and laughed. "Yes, that's him."

"The alien."

"Uh huh."

"In our barn."

"That's right."

John shook his head in utter disbelief and she watched as the shock was slowly replaced by giddy wonder and awe. He approached Garrus and put out his hand. The turian glanced her way and, reassured by the nod she gave him, shook John's hand, five fingers all but disappearing in his larger three-fingered grip. John laughed out loud and clapped Garrus on his armored shoulder.

"God damn, it is good to meet you! Welcome to Earth."

"Nice to meet you, too. Jane's told me a bit about you." John looked confused and Shepard couldn't figure out what was wrong until she remembered that he didn't have a translator.

"Oh, hang on a minute." She took one of her earpieces out and reached up to press it into John's ear. "Okay, Garrus, try it again." He repeated himself and John's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh, wow, this is the greatest thing ever. I can't believe . . . ! Holy cow, you're tall. Is that your ship?"

Jane clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. She was so relieved he was taking this well, even though she'd been fairly certain he would. Garrus heard it and smiled at her over John's shoulder, then started to show him the ship. They stood side by side with their arms crossed over their chests in exactly the same way and the similarities between them made her heart swell. Of course he'd be interested in the ship, he had been obsessed with the physics of interstellar travel for years. His school work was always covered in pictures of UFOs of differing designs all the way through high school and it had driven his teachers crazy. Garrus for his part seemed just as happy to have an apt pupil to talk to and it looked like her boys (for that's what they were to her now) would be fast friends.

It was starting to get late and she needed to start cooking soon. "I hate to interrupt shop talk, but I've got to go make supper."

"Oh, okay Jane. Need any help?"

She knew it would take a crowbar and a blowtorch to pry him away from the ship now, but it was nice of him to ask. "That's all right, I've got it. You boys have fun."

"Don't worry, we'll play nice," said Garrus, and he winked at her. Shepard blushed and left the barn, her stomach fluttering, wondering what that meant. Surely she wasn't attracted to him . . . right?