Disclaimer: Mass Effect is the property of Bioware, Microsoft Game Studios, and Electronic Arts. I am none of these, and as such make no money from this venture.

Amelia sighed softly as she closed the door to her son's room. He'd been emotionally drained after telling her all about the last few months and fallen into an exhausted sleep. She frowned as she thought back to all the messages he'd sent them about his girlfriend. He may not yet be at a point where he could look at the situation objectively, but perhaps she could remind him that happiness was worth fighting for. Resolved, she headed for the family terminal, snagging a spare datapad on the way.

Alan awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Stomach rumbling, he rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to wash the sleep from his eyes and the fuzz from his teeth. Running a damp hand through his mussed hair before giving it up as a lost cause, he followed his nose to the kitchen, arriving just as his father was setting a plate down on the table.

"Sit. Eat," Pyotr invited, returning to the stove to fix up another meal for himself. "Mama has gone to Lusia - shopping, you know - but will be back for supper."

Alan watched as the older man limped back to the table, foregoing the cane propped against a counter in order to bring a datapad along with his meal. He knew from experience that any offer to help would be rejected, but he stood and fetched the length of wood on the pretext of grabbing them each a glass of juice as well. His father huffed, amused and knowing, before shoving the pad across the table.

"Don't read it now, you'll spoil your breakfast," he grumbled. "Instead, tell me of your work. Has it been exciting lately?"

A wry smile on his lips, Alan began to outline some of their more interesting cases. The Presidium didn't see as much action as the stations in the Wards usually did, but they did get some... characters, to say the least. He caught himself describing Shulin's actions or reactions more than once, stuttering around them when he realised what he was doing. Pyotr graciously pretended not to notice.

When the dishes were clean, Alan stepped out onto the front porch, settling on the small bench to read the datapad in the clear morning air. Pyotr found him hours later, staring out over the quiet neighborhood with a pensive look on his face and the small electronic device clutched tightly in his hands. He eased himself down onto the bench beside his son, who absently shifted to give him more room.

Patting Alan's knee gently, the older man sighed. "You tell your father what's wrong, hm? There hasn't been a face that long since the drought in '63."

It was some time before he got a reply, and Alan's voice was soft with distraction. "Mama thinks I ought to give Shulin another chance."

"You don't want to, you don't do it," Pyotr declared definitively. "That's how you have always been."

They sat in silence until the shadows were short and their stomachs rumbled faintly. Chuckling, Pyotr stood to re-enter the house. Pausing, he turned back to his son. "You think too hard and you will convince yourself of anything, fiam. Often, your first instinct was the right one. Wait too long to decide and she will do it for you."

Finally turning his gaze from the surrounding houses, Alan watched his father retreat, his head full of conflicting thoughts.

ooo

There is nothing harder than watching your children hurt over the choices they've made and being unable to do anything but help clean up the aftermath, Matriarch Thysae mused as she sipped her tea and listened to her daughter spill her heart. It wasn't often that Shulin visited anymore. Being a Spectre meant she was usually completely out of contact for civilians and the Matriarch had her own duties to attend to.

Sighing, she patted her daughter's hand. "It is for the best, I think," she murmured, shaking her head as Shulin made to protest. "Not that you are separated, but that you are giving him time to think. He must make his own decisions and they will be best arrived at without pressure."

The Spectre was about to respond when the soft ping of her omnitool indicated an incoming message. Thysae nodded when she apologised, aware of the time-sensitive nature of most of her daughter's communications. She looked up from preparing another cup of tea when Shulin gasped sharply. Wide eyes met hers, and any thought of refreshments was forgotten at the hopeful panic she caught there.

"I need to go," the younger declared breathlessly.

Her mother nodded with a soft smile, rising to embrace the frantic Spectre. "Goddess smile on you, my darling."

Pulling back, Thysae smoothed a hand over her daughter's cheek. "Remember, your father would have been appalled at your choices..."

"...until he had time to think them over," Shulin finished their now-traditional farewell with a smile, bussing her mother's cheek before leaving to pack.

Watching her go, the Matriarch's smile turned bittersweet, fingers straying to the delicate fabric looped around her wrist. Shulin was more her father's daughter than either of them had ever realised. She only hoped it served the young Matron well.

ooo

The Systems Alliance may defer to the Council on galactic issues, but that didn't mean the sudden appearance of a Spectre on the Lusia docks was something they were prepared for. Shulin found herself subject to a dozen scrutinies before a scarred young Commander swept through and cleared her with a gruff apology and a few snapped orders to the Petty Officers manning the customs desk.

They made small talk as he escorted her towards the rapid transit station and he expressed surprise when she mentioned the name of her wayward human. When she pressed for details, the man admitted to knowing the family, though he declined to say how or for how long. She suppressed the urge to request his personnel files as part of an 'investigation'; perhaps Alan would be more forthcoming. She thanked the Commander again before sliding into the cab and he gave her a wry smile and wished her good luck. She hoped she wouldn't need it.

Shulin fidgeted throughout the ride, acutely uncomfortable in civilian dress even if she still carried two concealed pistols and a small blade. The driver let her out in a small but well-maintained neighborhood. The houses had all been built around the same prefab shell, but additions and repairs over the many years since the colony's founding made each one charmingly different from the next. Breathing deep, she straightened her spine and made her way up the walk of a neat house that was smaller than its neighbors.

She tried not to think of how the door chime rang like a death knell.

ooo

Alan had been pacing ever since his cousin had sent word from port that she had arrived planetside. He hadn't wanted to drag his parents into the coming conversation but he'd needed both privacy and the comfort of familiar surroundings for whatever was going to happen, so he'd asked them to head into town, his treat, and have a nice day out. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell sounded. Taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair, Alan tugged open the door.

"Shulin," he started, chest aching when he saw her standing nervously on the porch. Sure he'd been expecting her, but... "Come in."

She stepped inside, glancing at his bare feet before kneeling to unbuckle her boots.

"You don't have to," he muttered, and she looked up at him for a long moment before standing again.

She didn't say anything as he led her through the house to the small sitting room at the back. Gesturing to the sofa and chairs clustered around a low table, he invited her to sit before asking if she wanted something to drink. He was grateful when she softly requested tea; it gave him a chance to retreat to the kitchen and think.

He'd had a whole conversation mapped out in his head but this submissive, almost scared, face she was projecting tore his plans to pieces. Porcelain clinked as he retrieved mugs and a teapot. His thoughts drifted as he absently prepared the drink, but by the time the tray was ready he was no closer to regaining an even keel.

ooo

Shulin was keenly observant as Alan led her through his childhood home. His apartment on the Citadel had been simply furnished; a holdover from his brief military career and something she was very familiar with. By contrast, his parents' home was, while not cluttered, definitely full of character. It was only once they'd reached the sitting room and he offered refreshments that she became aware of just how her silence might be affecting him.

She waited for him to retreat before she gave in to her curiosity. Casting a glance at the archway he'd disappeared through, the Spectre stepped over to the shelves that occupied one whole wall. Most of them were filled with books - actual, real, paper-and-ink things that she itched to touch - but some contained small trinkets and framed photographs of family and friends. It was these last that she zeroed in on, absorbing the faces that surrounded Alan in his youth. She spotted the Commander from the docks in a few, and it was only the approaching footfalls that tore her away to settle nonchalantly on one side of the sofa.

Alan set the tray he'd been carrying down on the low table. Shulin watched him pour two cups of tea before handing her one and taking a seat in the chair opposite her. It had been too much to hope that he would choose to sit beside her, but she supposed this way they didn't have to turn sideways to talk. She waited for him to speak, sipping her tea appreciatively.

He watched her for a long while, his cooling mug seemingly forgotten in his hands. When he finally moved, it was to pull a small black box from his pocket. There was only the barest hesitation before he set it on the table between them.

"I can't accept this," he murmured, meeting her eyes briefly before fixing them on a point somewhere near her left hip.

She didn't pick up the box - she already knew what it must contain, after all - and instead braced herself for the worst. Her voice was equally soft in the quiet of the house when she asked, "Why not?"

He sighed, fidgeting with his mug to occupy his hands, and she resisted the urge to reach over and shake him until he saw sense. Finally he looked up at her again and she saw the conflict in his eyes.

"I..." Another sigh. "I loved you Shulin, but I can't trust you anymore."

Past tense. Oh Goddess. She felt her heart breaking again and clenched her fingers around her mug so tight she thought it might shatter in her hands. Some of her anguish must have shown on her face because he shook his head and continued. "Not yet, anyway. I need time. Weneed time."

Alan scrubbed a hand over his face and she set aside her hurt to take in the stoop of his shoulders and weariness in his normally stiff posture. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. What could she say that she hadn't already told him? He seemed to know what she meant anyway, sighing and looking up at her from between his fingers.

"I know... I know you're sorry and you couldn't have told me earlier. I understand, now, but we can't just pick back up where we left off. You might be the same asari who worked at C-Sec and brought us all our coffee, but that's only a part of you and I can't live with only half a lover. If we do this, there can't be any more secrets."

Her brow furrowed and he huffed slightly, interrupting her before she could voice her concerns. "Yeah, okay. I don't need to know who or what you're after every time the Council sends you out - just like you don't need to know every time someone tries to tee-pee the Krogan statue or hack the elevators to make them go faster - but you know what I mean. No more bigsecrets."

Shulin nodded in understanding, setting her empty mug on the table between them. Folding her hands loosely in her lap, she decided to simply start at the beginning. Alan sat back, eyes wide as she laid out what parts of her cover had been truth or lies or simply omissions. The shadows outside the window lengthened as they talked further, falling tentatively back towards the familiar ease they'd known before the merc raid nearly six months ago.

When Alan's parents returned, he introduced her as his girlfriend with a confidence that burnt the last of her fears from her mind. Her smile was brightly genuine as she allowed Amelia to draw her away, Pyotr clapping his son on the shoulder and leading him into the kitchen to begin a late dinner. The box that Alan absently slipped back into his pocket as he cleared away the tea tray gave her hope for the future.

They weren't perfect yet - not anywhere close - but they were getting there.

She could wait.