Purple.

Esther watched her niece lean over the piano, hair falling over her face; the ends falling through the haptic interface keys. She didn't move, didn't play. Her purple sweater stood out against the pale walls, like a bruise on fair skin.

A light step behind Esther made her turn. Her youngest brother, Andrew walked into the kitchen, retrieving a glass of water. Despite herself, Esther repressed a smile. To see Andrew drinking water of all things was a miracle. She still remembered driving him home after a bar kicked him out more than once. She'd never have guessed that he'd turn his life around so completely, but finding religion—finding a new purpose in life—did things to people.

Andrew joined her at the counter, which opened the kitchen up into a view of the living room. The house he shared with his turian wife was small by Terra Nova standards, but to Esther, who'd spent most of her year aboard cramped starships, it seemed vast in comparison. They both watched their niece for a minute. Andie continued to stare down at the keys, unmoving.

"I know how to fix bullet wounds and broken bones, Andrew," Esther said quietly. "How do you fix a broken soul?"

"Esther," Andrew said seriously in a low voice, "she needs help."

"I know. I'm doing what I can to extend my leave—calling in favors, but—"

"That's not what I meant." He gestured her further into the kitchen where the risk of being overheard was lessened. "I know a thing or two about mental illness, and Andie is suffering from PTSD. She says she's okay, but we both know that's not true. We have to get her into therapy."

Esther nodded slowly. "Yes. I didn't want to assume the worst, but…"

Andrew searched her face, his dark eyes serious. "We both know something's wrong when we hide sharp objects from her."

Esther winced. "I know. I just…" She sighed, running a hand through her short, graying hair. For a brief moment, she wished that Steven Hackett was there. He had a talent of seeing through the extraneous issues of a problem and giving a game plan. But Steven was part of the "favors" she had called in. She should have been back on his ship weeks ago, but when the captain of your ship was also a former lover… well, it paid to have friends in high places.

"I just wanted to give her some space to grieve. I thought the funeral would help give her some closure," Esther continued, rubbing her face.

"You don't recover from trauma like she went through so easily," he said and looked off into the distance, the lines around his mouth growing deeper. "Isolation is probably the worst thing we could do, Esther. I've been where she is… a depression so deep you literally can't see that the next day will be any better and that all you have to look forward to is at the end of a syringe… or a gun." He shook himself from the dark memory. "I know you need to get back to your ship, but you don't need to worry about her. Andie has a home here as long as she wants."

"What will she do?"

"I know some local psychologists… and if things go well, I can get her back into school. She'll have a chance of resuming a normal life." Andrew trailed off, jaw clenching.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "I never did get a chance to apologize to Matt… now I never will."

Esther felt a lump form in her own throat. It had been easy to channel her grief into taking care of Andie, into getting the funeral arranged, and the business of moving and other day-to-day details. But now she felt the force of her loss seep into her soul, leaving her swallowing hard in an effort to force the pain away. It didn't work.