Being human means forever being a work in progress.

- Benjamin Wrigley, Human Comedian

There is a certain kind of person who is never really innocent. They are small, most certainly, in the early years of their lives. No one can avoid that. Shepard was small, smaller than most actually, and a scrawny bit of gristle besides that. Contrary to expectations, that had made the situation worse rather than better.

He remembers, vaguely, his life before the gang. He remembers scrounging for food all hours of the day, his belly distended and his limbs swelling from malnutrition. He remembers the feeling of his teeth hanging loose from their roots as his gums curled back from dehydration, the sight of his bones moving against each other under nothing but skin, and the pain, the sharp, stabbing, constant pain. He remembers taking food from the mouths of other starving children to feed himself, the animalistic apathy of starvation making everything black and endless and pointless.

They aren't good memories, but they're better than his time with the Reds. He forces himself to take out those memories, to look at what he was and what he did. He should probably be in prison. He counts the bodies from his memories often, other children from the pits, rival gang members, untrustworthy drug dealers, Arturo's enemies and then, finally, at the end Arturo's friends. It always takes a while to remember them all. It seems impossible that he could have killed all those people sometimes, but he did, and he has to remember that. He has to remember what he did, who he was, and why.

When he remembers all of this, there is always one thought that comes to mind, a resolution he makes to himself. There are some things a man just doesn't do.

It seems like a strange thing for someone like him to say, but one thing he learned on the long path between being a jackal in human skin and an actual functioning human being is that there are some things that a man simply does not do. He was never innocent, but he was a child and the world is a hard, cruel place. Because of that there is some small, very small, measure of forgiveness he is willing to allow himself.

But now he is a man, and the only way to redeem the child is to recognize that there is a right way of living and follow it. To approach every decision, every situation, knowing no matter how hard it is, how uncertain it might be, there is a line that cannot be crossed. Not for anything.

He had this in mind as he attacked the problem of the Rachni Queen with his usual mercurial speed. The question was analyzed, turned over in his head, inspected from every angle. He referenced galactic history, a series of documentaries he'd watched a couple years ago, the advice his squad mates were putting forward and mixed it all together, drawing conclusions, coming to certain decisions independently and contrasting them with other decisions he'd made at the same time.

It was a messy, chaotic way of thinking but it served him well. In just a few seconds he had decided that he had to kill the Queen.

She was just too much of a risk. Her music was in his head, like the Protheans were in his head, a whisper behind his more immediate thoughts. It was soft and mournful, ancient beyond imagining. It did not beseech. It did not beg. She had said all she was going to say. It was the song of her heart, and it was lost and scared and lonely, the last of its kind in a silent universe.

He examined the controls that would release gouts of acid onto this creature. It was a sadistic way to kill something, the sort of thing someone would use to kill an animal not a sentient creature. He looked down into her eyes. They were black as oil, unreadable. Did the Rachni even have emotions like other sentient species? He supposed they must. To make music like this, they must.

Sometimes it's simple to see where the line is. On Elysium it had been simple. On Feros it had been simple. On Therum it had been simple. It was always so easy, because he was smart and he could see past the immediate moment to what the consequences of his actions might be. He was doing this now, and he saw so much war, and blood, and death. The Rachni had terrorized the galaxy once. They could do so again, easily.

But if he pressed that button and murdered her, and it would be murder there was no mistaking that, what would he be doing, really? Xenocide, that's what they'd called it in the galactic history course he'd taken at Tech Academy. To wipe out an alien race, entirely, so that none remain anywhere. The Rachni were the only example in modern galactic history, or they had been until now.

Shepard had the option to make that true again. And he didn't think he could do it.

The idea sat like a cold stone in his stomach and he frowned. There was no logical reason why he should hesitate to do this. It made the most sense. It was the right thing to do. But something deep and nameless in his gut told him it was wrong. Who was he to say that an entire race should be wiped from existence? Who was he to say that he should kill this creature, who was nothing like any other person he had ever met but who was still self aware, intelligent, sentient. Who had been enslaved, forced to do something she didn't want to do, and who now had to live with the burden of what she had created.

Okay. So maybe he was drawing some parallels. He couldn't help it, those thoughts had been heavy on his mind of late.

There was nothing left to do. No more questions to ask. It was time to make a decision. His stomach boiled as he reached toward the controls and he forced himself to look down. She was a truly hideous creature. It was hard to imagine complex thoughts firing behind those lidless black eyes.

Shepard lowered his hands.

He heard Liara's relieved sigh mingle with Ashley's grunt of surprise. He did his best to ignore both of them as he typed in the codes that would release the Queen from her tank. He didn't feel like talking about it, like trying to justify himself. Mostly, he wasn't sure what to say.

He didn't know yet if he regretted the decision.

Kaidan was reasonably sure that he could call Commander Shepard his friend.

In fact, he was sure. And if he was sure then the only reason he was still watching him out of the corner of his eye instead of talking to him was cowardice.

It wasn't just that he respected the man. He did, he most certainly did, but there was more to it than that. Shepard was... he was fun. Kaidan genuinely liked him. Once you got used to the slightly abrasive cockiness that he wore like a suit of armour, and stopped being distracted by that ridiculous red hair, Shepard was as good a man as any Kaidan had ever met.

And he was brilliant. That was something Kaidan had never known about him, but Williams insisted it was true. He could see it, in the way Shepard handled situations. He never hesitated, never faltered, and yet he always seemed to being doing exactly what needed to be done at the time. He never got bogged down in a problem.

So why then was he sitting at the table in the mess hall, his rations stone cold on the tray, untouched? His astounding eyes were glassy, looking at something far, far away. He was troubled, so very obviously troubled.

So why was he standing here, fiddling with a circuit board that had been patched and ready to go fifteen minutes ago? Kaidan set his jaw. He was going over there, protocol be damned. A soldier didn't offer advice to his superior officer, but Shepard himself had said they were friends. A friend didn't watch a friend sitting alone with that expression on his face and do nothing.

He set his tools aside and wiped mineral oil off his hands. When he sat down across from Shepard the other man stirred and shook himself, as though coming out of a trance. He rolled his shoulders and stretched, the muscles in his neck standing out tight and tense as steel cables.

"Hey, Shepard."

"Alenko," his smile was thin. "How's it going?"

"Oh, you know," Kaidan shrugged, "living the dream."

Shepard laughed, and it sounded at least partially genuine. He looked down at his food, gravy congealing into slime on top of reheated but now stone cold freeze dried meatloaf. To Kaidan's surprise, and disgust, he picked up his fork.

"You can't be serious," he said, his face twisting into a mask of horror. "That stuff tastes like old shoes when it's hot and fresh."

"If you'd grown up with me Alenko, you'd never in your life pass up a meal," Shepard said. His voice was light, but a ribbon of darkness ran through it. Something sharp and close to the surface, cutting. Shepard looked away and chewed cold meatloaf with a look of determination on his face.

"You feeling alright?" He didn't know how else to say it. He hoped that he wasn't about to get stone walled and chastised. Military men weren't renown for their willingness to sit down and talk about their feelings. Shepard didn't acknowledge the question until he'd swallowed.

When Shepard looked up they locked eyes. Kaidan was struck again, he didn't know how many times now, by the intensity of his gaze. After a moment Shepard looked away.

He put his fork down.

"Just thinking about what happened on Noveria," he said quietly.

"Yeah, that was... a hell of a thing. Ash filled me in on all the details."

"Did she give you her opinion?"

"Chief Williams is the soul of professionalism, sir."

"Liar," Shepard had a bit of his grin back. "Well, you know all the details. Do you have an opinion, Lieutenant Alenko?" There was a challenge in his eyes, and something else too.

"Frankly sir, I don't know what I would have done differently."

"Really?" Shepard looked surprised. "I understand why Liara supported me. She believed what the Rachni Queen said, that they really are just going to disappear onto a distant world and live out an eternity of peace among themselves. But why you?"

"I've got your back Shepard. You've never steered me wrong and I trust your judgement, so I support you. But... on a more personal note..." He hesitated.

"Yes, permission to speak freely. God, you are the most cautious conversationalist I've ever met."

Kaidan laughed softly. "I guess so. I just mean to say, on a personal note, I understand. Ending a life is one thing, when the situation calls for it. Ending a species... that's something else."

Shepard looked relieved.

"Sometimes I think I'm crazy," he confided after a moment. "I try to figure everything out with my head, and when I try to use other parts of me I'm never sure if..." He shook himself again, like coming out of a trance, and laughed at himself. "Bleh. Rambling. Anyway. That's not really what I'm worried about. What's done is done. The Rachni are back and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"Oh," Kaidan blinked. "What's got you torturing yourself with cold rations then?"

"It's Benezia. Or, well, it's Liara. She hasn't come out of her lab all day."

"Yeah," Kaidan glanced over his shoulder, following Shepard's gaze. He was staring at the door at the back of the med bay that led to Liara's lab. "I can't imagine what she's going through right now."

"Neither can I," Shepard replied, "which is the problem. I'm no good with family stuff, Alenko. What am I supposed to say to her?"

"I'm sure she just needs a little sympathy," Kaidan reasoned. "Someone to listen, you know how it is."

"Yeah, look, you're really underestimating the severity of this problem. I am the worst with family counseling. When I tried to comfort my roommate in Tech Academy after his mother died I nearly ended our friendship. It just..." He grasped inarticulately at the air. "It just doesn't click for me. I never know what to say."

He sighed, deeply.

"When we first picked her up I couldn't help but think... she was still such a kid, you know? Not that she couldn't handle herself, but she was so shocked by all the ugliness in the universe. It was like she grew up not knowing that people are cruel and vicious and ruthless," he shook his head like the idea of such a thing was ridiculous. "And now, every day, I see her getting more and more used to it. Acclimatizing to it. Damn it, Alenko, that's not what I wanted to do when I brought her along. And now her mother's dead, and I'm out here eating this disgusting fucking meat loaf."

He pushed the tray away.

"You were right. Not even I can finish that."

"It's not your fault."

"I know that, I'm not stupid. Just frustrated. I'm a techie, Alenko, I like being able to fix things all proper, with colour-coded wires, and snap a casing over it when I'm done to make it look pretty," Shepard rested his chin on his cupped hand, his elbow on the table between them.

"Yeah, I get that," Kaidan laughed. Something about military neatness and the meticulous attention to detail tech work demanded attracted a certain kind of mind. Kaidan often felt exactly like him.

"But I can't fix this by being smart. Being smart can't give me emotions or experiences I don't have, and it can't tell me what I'm supposed to say to Liara."

"Do you want my advice?"

"Desperately," Shepard leaned forward. "Fill me with your wisdom."

"Don't try to say anything to her. Just listen to her, and I think you'll be able to figure out what she needs. You are awfully smart, Shepard," Kaidan shrugged. "And even if you do mess it up, you can't mess it up any worse than you will if you don't go and talk to her at all."

"Both of those are very astute points," Shepard admitted. He squared his shoulders, visibly drawing himself together. "Wish me luck. Actually, wish her luck. She deserves it more than me."

Kaidan watched him walk off. His eyes traced the broad, confident sweep of his shoulders, the back of his neck, the way he always seemed to be at the centre of the room, no matter what he was doing. He realized what was happening with a lurch that wiped the unconscious smile off his face and sent the real world crashing down around his ears like icy water.

Shepard turned back and looked over his shoulder as he reached the med-bay doors. Kaidan tried to return his smile, but he was feeling queasy all of a sudden and it came out crooked. Shepard laughed at the stupid expression and Kaidan felt himself blushing. He was going to blame the proximity of the cold meatloaf.

This, Kaidan thought as he turned the problem over in his head, was going to be very, very, very inconvenient.