Shepard rolled onto her back and stretched. "Valor, I wasn't done," Penephaedra chastised.

"Draw faster, Penny. It's cold in here and I'm bored. Or better yet, take some pictures and draw them up later."

"I was thinking of painting you," the asari stated as she flipped to a fresh page in the large sketch book on her lap and began drawing the new pose. "I need to sketch you first, though. I do plan on taking some holos, but this part of the process is vital. Goddess, I still can't get over how smooth your skin is," the artist commented, sketching furiously.

"Are you kidding? I have goose bumps," Shepard complained as she slid off the cushioned bench, dragging the artful drape of cloth Penephaedra had arranged to spill to the floor out of position and wrapping it around herself for warmth. "You're going to have to do something to warm me up if you want me to keep sitting for you."

"I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable," Penephaedra said, closing the sketch book. She seemed genuinely concerned. "I get a little carried away sometimes."

"Come show me some of those sketches?" Shepard requested, sitting on the bench.

"Oh, of course," the artist said with a shy smile. The asari hesitated before sitting next to Shepard. "Let's see," she mumbled, flipping through the book. "This one is my favorite," she said, handing the book to Shepard.

Shepard studied the rendition of her own body. Her face was partially obscured by her hair, but the resemblance was still obvious. If not for that detail, she might not have recognized herself on the page. Penephaedra had chosen not to include Shepard's scars or the Alliance tattoo on her shoulder. It annoyed her that those details were left out while her hair and other features were so finely detailed, but she buried the sentiment. "You're really good, Penny."

"You sound surprised," the artist said with a nervous laugh.

"Most of your work is so abstract," Shepard explained. "I'm not sure what I expected, but this is very nuanced and realistic."

"You really don't like my paintings, do you?"

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe you should try something a bit different. I realize there's not much market for uncommissioned portraiture, but showing your versatility has to be a good thing. People will have more respect for what you choose to paint instead of assuming you simply can't paint anything else," Shepard said, slowly paging through several renditions of herself. The first few were drawn while she was still mostly clothed, yet Penephaedra had fairly successfully rendered her nude, though her musculature was less defined than in the later sketches. "And who knows," Shepard continued when the artist made no reply, "if someone like Councilor Tevos knows you could paint her portrait, maybe she'd pay you to do it."

"My agent says that kind of thing will destroy the impact of my abstract pieces, though."

"Well, I'm just a soldier. Your agent probably knows best. But what if you found a way to incorporate your signature abstraction into other types of work?" Shepard asked, continuing to flip through the book. Aside from her, Penephaedra had sketched a lot of landscapes, city-scapes, plants, and a random assortment of inanimate objects. There were no other people represented in the book. Shepard found herself flattered. "I really like these sketches," she said, turning back to a set of close-up studies of what she thought was some kind of electronic device. "You use negative space and light so well."

"It's nothing. You just let your focus soften a bit, then leave the highlights less detailed than the shadows. Or reverse that to spice things up."

"There's probably a reason I make a living shooting things and taking orders and you get to create beauty and express yourself."

"Nonsense. You collect art, don't you? I mean, you came to the show."

Shepard shook her head, "I don't have room for anything like that. Living light is pretty much a requirement for someone like me. Everything I need fits in a rucksack. And, to be shamefully honest, ship models are more in my price range than one of your sculptures. I do appreciate beautiful things, though."

Penephaedra smiled coyly, taking her statement as flirting. "Oh, you like ships?" the asari said, feigning innocence.

"I grew up on ships," Shepard stated. She had lived in and been posted to a few colonies, and of course she'd spent some time on Earth during Interplanetary Combative Training while she earned her N1 designation, but all that seemed like time she was waiting to get to where she belonged. She had never felt at home except on a ship. Maybe that was why she was getting so edgy lately.

"That sounds so exciting," Penephaedra said dreamily.

"It was," Shepard lied. It should have been. The exciting parts had been shore leave, planet-side excursions, and temporary posts on stations while the ship was in dry dock for repairs or upgrades or something. But ships were still home, lack of excitement or not. "Did you get what you needed? Should I put my clothes back on?"

"I need some holos. I hope this isn't rude, but I want a reference of your tattoo and all those scars. You've given me an idea for a painting, but I want it to be accurate."

"You really just want to see me start shivering. Sadist," Shepard playfully accused. "Come on, then," she invited, throwing the cloth covering her aside, "get it over with."

Penephaedra stood a little too quickly, but she smiled, "Thank you, Valor. Go ahead and lie down again, that's right, on your stomach first." The asari lightly brushed Shepard's hair forward over her shoulder. "Humans have such lovely hair. Well, you do, anyway. It feels like strands of silk. Is this color natural?"

"On me it is. A lot of humans chemically lighten their hair. You can usually tell by the eyebrows. For some reason bottle blondes don't seem to think anyone will pick up on the discrepancy."

"It's beautiful. I can understand why they'd want to mimic it. Put your arm under your head for me and turn this way a little. Perfect," Penephaedra praised, snapping a few holos. "Do you think you could just move through the poses we did earlier? Do you remember? I should have done this before each sketch. I'm so out of practice with people."

"I think I can manage," Shepard said, shifting to the next position, waiting for the sound of Penephaedra's equipment, then moving to the next. Occasionally, Penephaedra made a small adjustment or changed the lighting. Twice, she tucked Shepard's hair away from her face or her tattoo. Both times, the asari's skin darkened and Shepard let herself smirk. The holos took far less time than even one of the sketches, for which Shepard was very grateful. She was beyond bored, but unless she missed her mark, it wasn't likely she'd be getting out of Penephaedra's temporary studio for quite some time yet.

"That's all, Valor," Penephaedra said, setting her equipment on a large desk. The asari hadn't changed the dramatic lighting back to normal, and Shepard didn't miss the fact that the camera was still pointed directly at the bench. There was no indication that it was still running, but she was certain of it, nonetheless. "Thank you so much for this. Are you still cold?" the artist coyly asked, slinking closer to the bench as she slipped out of the jacket she wore over her floor-length gown.

Shepard nodded, holding the asari's gaze. Recording her image was one thing. Recording her voice was another.

"Earlier, it sounded like you were hoping I'd warm you up personally," Penephaedra stated, gracefully sitting beside Shepard once more and lightly skimming her hand over the human's knee to rest on her bare thigh.

Shepard smiled, then reached out to caress the asari's cheek and pulled her gently forward, kissing her sweetly. Penephaedra moaned appreciatively and climbed onto the bench, pushing Shepard onto her back. Shepard broke the kiss and put her lips next to the artist's ear, speaking in the barest whisper, "Just sex. If you try to meld, I have to go. Military secrets," she explained. Part of her hoped for some kind of argument from Penephaedra, but the asari was undeterred. Shepard wasn't getting out of it, so she decided she'd have some fun with this little artist, this pet of Councilor Tevos. The camera was really going to bring out the exhibitionist in her, she realized with a smile as she smoothly flipped herself atop the asari, evoking a startled cry from her partner. Oh, yes, this would be fun.

Garrus played the vid again. The lighting made it difficult to tell whether it was actually Shepard or not. He was pretty sure, based on her build and coloring, but the woman never spoke loud enough for her voice to be picked up and her hair seemed to be constantly obscuring her face. He kept his focus on identifying the human woman, but he still felt his plates shift in response to what was happening on the screen. What's going on with me? I've never thought asari were that attractive, and humans...,he shook his head, fully aware that he was still aroused. By the end of the clip, he still wasn't absolutely certain it was Shepard and his plates were loose enough to rattle when he stood up. Damn.

So, now what are you going to do? Call and ask if it's really her screwing that asari painter? Why do you care, Vakarian? You told her you're not really into humans. Stupid to expect a woman like her to wait around just in case you change your mind, he angrily thought. He flexed his mandibles and his breath rumbled in his chest. He cared because Shepard had succeeded in getting his attention, and if it was her in the vid, it meant she was just toying with him, probably had been all along.

If she knew he was suspicious and she actually did have something to hide, maybe she was just trying to get close so she could keep an eye on him. It made sense, but it didn't feel right. This time, Garrus wasn't sure his instincts were unclouded by his ego, though, so he couldn't completely dismiss the possibility.

He closed his extranet connection, promising himself he'd confront Shepard about it in a few days if reporting on the little 'scandal' surrounding the vid didn't eventually answer his questions. He wasn't optimistic. So far, no one really seemed to care that it might be Shepard. Everyone was more intent on the artist whose recent gallery showing had been sponsored by the asari Councilor. The embarrassed artist had enjoyed a boost in popularity at the cost of a little dignity and refused to comment, while Councilor Tevos had announced that she had selected seven more artists to feature on the Citadel over the next several months– an obvious attempt to distance herself from Penephaedra in the eyes of the media by making the artist only the first of many who were to benefit from her appreciation for art.

Neither the Alliance, nor C-Sec cared about Shepard's involvement. The only possible angle he had to make anyone stop and take note was how Shepard, or the woman who was rumored to be Shepard, treated the painter. The woman was domineering, demanding, and inconsiderate. The asari didn't seem to mind the abuse in the least, however, so whether the human's conduct was acceptable or not wasn't being questioned by the many who thought it was their place to comment on the incident. The one instance in which the asari protested, the human immediately backed off and waited for an invitation to re-initiate before making another move. The whole thing looked staged, now that he thought about it. It probably wasn't Shepard after all.

He really did have better things to do than digitally stalk Shepard, and he would get to them– just as soon as he checked up on his VI's progress cracking the encryption on the files he had pulled out of Shepard's model ship. He hadn't expected much, but was pleasantly surprised to find that about three quarters of the files were uncorrupted, and half of those were decrypted already. There were a few vids, some holos, and what looked like police reports and arrest records, even some personal correspondence. Spirits, what is all this? he asked himself as he noted the file names, and more importantly, the dates. Ten years ago... almost exactly.

He opened a file at random. A vid message from someone named Jack Harrow to a Hannah Shepard. Valor's mother? He enabled audio and sat back to watch. The human male had Shepard's eyes and though his hair was darker than Valor's, Garrus thought it would still be called blond by other humans. It was hard to tell, but he thought the man would probably be considered attractive, even though he was obviously a bit past his prime. It was a pity humans aged so poorly. Coloring aside, the man wore a smirk that he had definitely seen on Valor. Could they be related? The man started speaking, so Garrus stopped wondering and listened.

"You made a threat you didn't think you'd have to carry out, didn't you, Hannah? Well, I'll play along and take the kid, but I'm not doing it for you, and don't think for a minute that I'm going to coddle her. I don't know how you've raised her, but if you can't handle her and you don't think she's tough enough to handle me, I think you messed up."

Interesting. The message supported his theory that this Jack Harrow was related– possibly her father– and that Hannah Shepard was indeed Shepard's mother, if he assumed the 'kid' was Valor. By the date stamp, Valor would have barely turned sixteen. Humans were still under parental guardianship at that age, if he remembered correctly. He queued the rest of the vid messages in the cluster to play sequentially, eager to learn more.

The next message was from Hannah to Jack a few days later. Valor's mother looked a lot like her, too. Same refined features, blonde hair cut short to curl around her neck and jaw, but dark brown eyes instead of Shepard's stunning green.

"I know I messed up with her, Jack. She's been wreaking havoc on my ship for three damn years and she's finally gone far enough that I'm seriously worried about her. If she keeps this behavior up," Hannah sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Just read the damned file I'm sending so you know what the hell you're dealing with. Do it before I drop her off, too, or she's going to make you regret ever setting eyes on me."

Jack's reply was stamped only a few minutes later:

"That ship's sailed, Sweetheart."

Hannah had nothing to say to that. The next message was also from Jack, about a week later.

"Valor is settling in fine, Hannah. I didn't get around to looking at your file on her, yet, but she's been great so far. She won't talk about why you shipped her off to me, but you made the right call. And why didn't you tell me she's a biotic and a tech savant? Honestly, Hannah, the girl's gifted. I told her she can stay with me as long as she wants. It's obvious she doesn't like Mindoir, but I get the feeling she's going to take me up on that offer until she's old enough to enlist."

Now Garrus was very curious. What kind of havoc could Shepard have been raising that would have justified her mother sending her away to someone who was clearly a complete stranger? And he really wanted to see that file Hannah had put together to warn Jack about Valor. First, he'd get through the play list. He'd already gotten more new information about Shepard from this decade-old conversation than his weeks of research had yielded.

Hannah's face appeared. She looked tired and very angry. "She goes by Justine, not Valor. She will not be allowed to enlist, Jack! Her first term starts in two months, and she will be on Elysium and ready to attend on the first goddamned day! If you keep her there, I will drag you to court over this. She is not fit for the Alliance."

Not fit for the Alliance? Valor Shepard bled silver and blue, and not just because military life was the only thing she was suited for. Her time with C-Sec had proven that her talents were as valuable in an interview or interrogation, or detecting, repelling, and countering a cyber attack as they were on the front lines. And that was completely ignoring her interpersonal skills. Shepard knew how to get what she wanted, how to make people like her. Hell, it was even working on him, and she had made his mandibles twitch since the first day he met her. Could that have been the trait that caused her mother problems, her charm? And where did 'Justine' come from? Her service record clearly stated 'Valor Shepard,' listing no middle name or other aliases. He made a mental note to expand his search to include the name from now on.

Next message. Carefully controlled panic shone from Hannah's eyes and her voice was brittle. "My God, Jack, I hope you get this. I just heard about the attack and I'm on my way, so hold on. Keep Justi safe. Please, just hold on. Don't let them take her."

Of course, Mindoir. He hadn't been aware that Shepard was present for the infamous raid, but it shouldn't have surprised him. It did make him wonder what her father was doing in such an out-of-the-way colony. He didn't look like a farmer, his bearing was definitely military.

"We made it out, which is more than I can say for the rest of the colony." Jack's next message began. "I'm really sorry we left without checking in with you first, but I got orders while your marines were still mopping up and we had to go. Valor is exactly what the Alliance is looking for, Hannah. Between her omni-tool and her biotics, she could have kept the batarians off us for months without even touching a gun, and she's not a bad shot, either when it comes to that. As soon as your marines showed up, we went on the offensive, thanks to her. The bastards cleared out too fast for us to get to their ship, but Val could have kept them grounded until the cavalry arrived if we'd been quicker. With some combat training, I could have taken her in with me before the SSV Einstein even showed up and saved your men going through hell for nothing. I'm taking her to Illium with me, and you can drag us through court, but if you do, I'll be calling in some favors. If she wants to enlist, she's going to, Hannah. The Alliance needs people like her."

"Did you at least read the goddamned file I sent you, Jack? No, never mind, you obviously haven't or you'd agree with me and keep her out of the military," came Hannah's curt reply.

Well, that was a strange way to express relief at the news that one's child and apparent former lover had survived a raid by slavers. If Garrus was to judge by this conversation, Shepard had inherited her father's charm along with his eye color. He flipped through the files, hoping to find the one Hannah kept telling Jack he needed to see. His breath rattled in frustration when he found it on the list of corrupted files. Maybe he could get a clean copy if he went back to Shepard's apartment. If he went to pick her up for work, he wouldn't have to try and set up another so-called date. He glanced at the time and swore. It would have to wait, he was supposed to be sitting at his desk and ready to work in five minutes. Even if Shepard hadn't left her apartment yet, she wasn't likely to leave him alone long enough to get the file. Late again, thanks to Shepard.

Sparatus paced, occasionally glancing at the half-unwrapped parcel on his desk. He still couldn't believe it, but he wasn't sure what aspect of the gift left him more stunned– the subject of the painting and numerous sketches, or the artist behind them. He had expected some kind of response from Lieutenant Shepard, that was why he'd purchased Vibitus and had it sent to her in the first place. Even so, this was beyond anything he had imagined, and he had no clue how to interpret it, particularly in light of the sex tape 'scandal' she was supposedly involved in. His staff couldn't confirm that it was actually her in the vid, but considering this gift, he thought it was likely.

Each sketch was clearly of Shepard. He could tell even without pulling up a holo of her on the extranet for comparison. The painting was somewhat less obviously her, but next to the sketches and considering the light gold hair of the figure, he had absolutely no doubt about the identity of the subject.

In the painting, the woman's smooth, pale curves were slashed with a chaotic pattern of deep blue. Alliance blue. Her hand covered her shoulder, where bright silver light shone between her fingers, casting shadows across her skin, and more dark blue bled down her arm.

But humans bleed red. Why did Penephaedra paint what looked like wounds and blood blue on a human? After a few moments of studying the painting, the shapes began to lose context. It looked more and more like an abstract jumble. Then he blinked, and it was Valor Shepard again. Naked, covered in slashes, and bleeding as if she was a turian with hemocyanin in her blood instead of hemoglobin. Surely, the artist didn't mean to draw that parallel. It was likely a reference to Shepard's devotion to the Alliance, but could the human be that loyal? He focused on the figure underneath all the blue. Did she really look like that without her clothes on? How could she? She actually looked good.

He returned his focus to the realism of the sketches. The texture of the heavy paper was pleasant, and it held Shepard's scent– probably perfume– as if she'd spent some time handling the sketches herself. The perfume hadn't made an impression on him at the art show, but he recognized it unmistakably as Shepard's. He supposed he'd been distracted at the gallery, but some part of him had apparently noted the scent anyway.

The drawing on the page was light, but heavy shadows were hinted at with skillful strokes and smudges. It was a dramatic effect, even though it was clearly not a finished work. He had seen pictures of unclothed humans before, but they were educational– part of xenobiology studies and medical texts. Those humans looked repulsive. But these sketches were... beautiful.

She was so very alien, but her body flowed– bone and muscle showing beneath supple, impossibly thin skin, every line fitting naturally with the others and drawing his eye from head to toe and back. She was a river, laid out on the bench– a stream tumbling into a waterfall on the next page as she sat with one leg tucked under her, her graphite gaze holding his attention.

On the next page, she laid on her stomach. Her back was arched, her face pointed to the heavens. The lines of her body looked different and he realized Penephaedra had actually captured the flex of her muscles in this pose. He studied it, noting the differences between this portrayal and the others. Her rib cage was clearly defined just above where her torso rose from the floor, and her breasts stood out against the background in profile. Her buttocks were rounder and looked firmer than in the other drawings, and the long lines of muscle in her legs were more defined, and her feet– why did humans have such flexible feet? The arch between heel and toes reminded him of the sweep of her back, and his gaze traveled over her body once more.

He wanted to look at the rest of the sketches again, but he forced himself to set them aside. By now, Shepard probably knew he had received the package. He needed to respond. But how could he respond to a message he didn't understand? No, it couldn't be that complex, humans weren't that sophisticated. And Shepard seemed to have a good grasp of other cultures, so she probably knew what it would look like to him.

Sparatus flicked his mandibles. If she was turian, he'd contact her to set a private meeting, buy her a few drinks and take her to a room on some part of the Citadel that didn't have cameras on every corner. But she wasn't turian, she was human– a human who had carelessly allowed her recent affair with an asari artist to become very public.

He stilled his flickering mandibles, dismissing his uncertainty. He was an ambassador of sorts, after all, and it was his job to understand all the species of note in the galaxy. Humans were intent on carving out a place for themselves next to the council races whether they deserved it or not. He should definitely get to know one of them better, and who could top the soldier the Alliance seemed to think was worthy of joining the ranks of the Spectres? It seemed unlikely that Shepard would jeopardize her career by trying to turn polite social overtures into something inappropriately personal if he approached her platonically. She was, without a doubt, the most interesting human he'd met. He was looking forward to getting to know her better.