Falere

Over the decades, Falere had come to consider herself to be something of a connoisseur of silence.

The monastery was full of silences, if only you cared to listen for them. She'd had more than time enough to learn their names. There was the silence of deep thought and the silence of hard work. The silence of subterfuge and stealth, of daydream and inattention, of reprimand and reproach. The waiting silence and the tense silence; the welcoming and the despairing. The way those four came together to create the laden silences that rippled through the monastery in the wake of another death or new arrival.

Her favourite, though, was the one she shared- had once shared with Rila. Comfortable, as warm and welcoming as the forbidden embraces they snuck, she could spend days on end in the company of her sister and never feel the need to say a word. What needed to be said, after so long with nothing but each other?

This new silence, though, the one she shared with Mother, was strange. It was at once fraught and begging be filled, but leaving Falere uncertain as to what new ways their world would shatter if either said but a single word. It was stranger still, in so many ways, to simply be here, beside the one who'd birthed her, raised her and been forced to send her away. Beside this Justicar, who was Mother and yet not. Who had Mother's eyes, which betrayed everything her face and body and voice would not say, but who smelled of leather and gun polish instead of spiced perfume. Who sat, still and contained and quiet, instead of prowling with restless energy. Whose voice was soft and measured when it should have been raised in song or laughter, or to shout at the vid screen as her favourite skyball team betrayed her faith in them once more.

Had silence been a hard thing for Mother to learn, going into the service of her Code? Temple quiet had come naturally to Falere, youngest, smallest and most bookish of three. Father might have found it easy too, Falere favouring her in temperament, if not looks. But it was much harder to imagine Mother finding peace in the quiet. She had always been... bold. Loud. Larger than life.

Falere was on the verge of asking to that effect, for want of anything else to say, when she heard the sudden, sharp sound of ceramics shattering nearby, from back towards the direction they'd come. Mother heard it too, pausing mid-bite to listen, cocking her head slightly to one side, body tensing almost imperceptibly. When no further noise came they both relaxed. Things broke all of the time in the camp, and Falere hadn't gone a day yet without losing one of the suspended pots or planters, no matter how well she thought she'd fixed them into place. Another mess to clean.

"You've done well with all of this," Mother said, looking around at the greenhouses surrounding the small courtyard.

In truth, the 'courtyard' was little more than the junction of a few narrow alleyways, but someone had tried to make it at least slightly welcoming. A few battered chairs, where they sat, and a table raised up from the river mud on a square sheet of perforated steel. A swirl of light gravel in one corner above the sticky earth, and even sickly tree in a too-small pot, biotics glowing wanly. A few incense sticks planted around the edge of the patch of gravel suggested that Mother wasn't the only person using the area for meditation.

"It's come along better than I expected, actually," Falere admitted, though pleased by the praise. "We all spent time on the farms, but I've never really been noted for my green thumb."

Whatever reply Mother was going to make died on her lips as the sound of shattering glass reached them. They shared a glance as, after a slight delay, the sound came for the second time, and had both risen to their feet before the third reached them. Mother was gone from the courtyard a bare heartbeat later, Falere quickly falling behind, her dismay rising as there was a fourth, a fifth, more.

Sabotage.

The thought came almost as a relief, even as her heart sank, as though part of her had been waiting for it ever since she had arrived. Maybe she had. They'd been warned, all of them, more than once, that their reception outside of the monastery could be cold. That for every one of their people that offered kindness, a more would offer scorn. The stories from those who'd come back, after trying and failing to make new lives for themselves outside, had long ago convinced Falere it would not be worth the trouble of leaving home. People could be... irrational.

And yet, here she was, on Thessia anyway, because helping people was the sort of thing that monsters didn't do.

The sounds of destruction seemed to be coming from greenhouse three, where she'd been working this morning. Where, she realised with another stab of dismay, she'd left Matriarch Benezia. The Matriarch had looked so drawn and frail, and seemed so distracted that Falere had to wonder if there was any truth to the rumours even she had heard that the Matriarch was deathly ill as a result of whatever the Reapers were supposed to have done to her. She certainly hadn't seemed very well the day Mother had brought Falere to this place. Mother had later explained that it was not uncommon for those who felt they'd wronged the community to become deeply emotional and seek extreme penalties when encountering a Justicar; it should not be held against the Matriarch. And Mother's word was, quite literally, law.

Falere had barely seen the Matriarch since that first meeting, save the morning spent showing Falere around the camp. She had been nice enough then, but quiet, her questions, unusual for an outsider, not about Falere's condition or monastery life, but about her - her interests, her likes and dislikes - all steering carefully away from any topics that might lead them back to the war. But then the Matriarch had visited the monastery at least once times since Falere had been there, scattering herself and her acolytes, some nervous, some not, in amongst the residents in the dining hall. It had been nice to learn, after the initial moment of doubt upon seeking her out as a guide to the camp, that the small kindnesses then had not been an act.

Falere entered the greenhouse at a run, and nearly collided with Mother, who'd come to a halt just inside. It was easy to see why: Matriarch Benezia was at the far end of the room, leaning over one of the rows of eivi that Falere and her occasional, barely-willing assistants had carefully coaxed forth. The side of her head and crests were streaked with blood and dirt, her jacket ripped and the shirt beneath it torn and hanging half-open to reveal much of her right breast and another bleeding wound there.

Falere gasped and started forward, but Mother put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," Mother said, letting her hand fall to the gun at her hip. "Matriarch Benezia, what has happened here? Were you attacked?"

The Matriarch ignored them, even when Mother started moving towards her, light on her feet, biotics charged, scanning the building for other occupants.

"They must have fled," Falere said, following hesitantly in Mother's wake, doing her own survey of the building.

Matriarch Benezia herself was breathing hard, not so much leaning against the bench as clinging to it as if it were the only thing capable of supporting her. Falere's plants and vats appeared to be untouched, to her relief, and the pipes she had so laboriously hung, plumbed and sealed were still in place - and still leaking despite her best efforts. But the rows of windows behind the Matriarch were full of empty frames, allowing in a cold draft.

Had the Matriarch frightened them off? Whoever had destroyed the windows must have seen Falere leave, and then entered, not expecting there to be anyone inside. The Matriarch must have surprised them. And then, Falere realised with a wave of outrage that washed away the burgeoning relief, they'd attacked her instead.

Who could do such a thing!? It was one thing to smash windows-

But then the Matriarch abruptly straightened and shook her head, as if to clear it.

"No. I will find a way."

The words were barely audible, and Falere had little time to ponder their meaning before the Matriarch was poised before an intact pane of glass. She reached out to touch it, almost wonderingly, and at that moment Falere realised that there was blood on the broken panes, on the shards on the ground.

This was... this was Benezia's work? The attempted destruction of everything that Falere had worked towards here? Falere would never have expected Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, of anyone in the camp, to harbour ill-will towards her. Not when Benezia had sought out her company today. Not when she had been courteous and engaging and unafraid. Not when her own daughter had asked Falere to come here. Why would she do such a thing? How could she?

The Matriarch's hand, wreathed in sudden biotic energy, drew back and struck. The tempered pane cracked, her palm leaving a smear of blood.

"No!" Falere burst out, rushing forward.

But once again Mother was quicker, already moving even before the blow had been struck, interposing herself neatly between the two of them. Her hand shot out to catch the other matriarch's arm, holding it in place with an almost contemptuous ease before Benezia could strike again.

"Stop this," she said levelly. "What has happened here?"

Matriarch Benezia looked over her shoulder at them incredulously, as if registering their presence for the first time. Her eyes widened, and she managed to jerk her arm free of Mother's hold.

"I have to leave," she whispered, backing away. "I can't stay. You can't keep me here."

Mother's eyes narrowed at that, a frown creasing her features, and she raised her head, squaring her shoulders, her body suddenly tense in a way it hadn't been before. Ready for a fight, Falere realised with a start of dread. Did she honestly expect one? From Matriarch Benezia?

But then Falere would not have expected the Matriarch to attack the greenhouse.

"The Code compels me to prevent you from causing any further damage to this building for the sake of the community," Mother said calmly. "And to ensure that you answer to them for the damage you have already caused." She stepped forward. "I ask that you come with me peacefully."

There was an implied threat in the words, Falere realised, that turned the request into a demand, however calmly delivered. The Matriarch saw it too, backing away, biotics flaring defensively.

"You can't keep me here!" she repeated. "I won't become one of those things! I won't. I won't! It's important! Someone has to!"

Her voice only rose in volume and pitch, taking on an almost hysterical edge. Almost hysterical, like Ivoli had been, before she'd tried to jump from the roof of the belltower in the fiftieth year of Falere's residence. Very much like N'Sia, who'd been held in solitary confinement for more than three decades in her home village before being discovered by a census-taker. Half-wild, half-terrified, deathly pale and far too thin, she talked to thin air rather than people, and sometimes screamed or struck out if you touched her. Falere had sat with her, once or twice, on some of her calmer days, torn between pity, compassion and horror that 'civilised' people could do something so terrible to someone whose crime had been to not realise what she was until it was too late. N'Sia hadn't even tried to run when her first attempted meld had left her partner comatose.

Falere glanced at the blood-splattered ground, the broken glass and then at Benezia: wild-eyed, bloodied, her clothing in disarray, still trying to put distance between herself and Mother. The wound on her chest came from four deep scratches.

"Mother," Falere said quietly, stepping forward to touch Mother's arm, to stop her from advancing again. "Wait. Please. I don't think she's," she struggled momentarily for a suitable adjective, "well. Force might not help."

Words had helped Ivoli come to terms with her new life. They might even have helped N'Sia too, one day, had the healing not taken more time that the Reapers had left her.

"Mmm," Mother agreed, coming to a halt, not taking her eyes off the other matriarch. "Perhaps."

"We can talk her down. Or go get Dr. T'Soni-"

"Stop TALKING!" Benezia shouted at them, covering her ears with her hands and seeming to curl in on herself, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her voice dropped immediately, almost to a whisper. "I don't want to listen anymore. Not about them. It's too late."

She continued to back away from them both, until she reached the side of the greenhouse and struck the wall behind her. She recoiled away from it with a whimper, so violently that she stumbled, and almost fell. Then, before either Falere or Mother could react, she flung out her hand, sending a wave of biotic force rolling out with it.

The wall didn't so much shatter as explode outwards in a thunderous crash, as though a bolt of lightning has struck home before their very eyes. A score of carefully salvaged and assembled windows were gone in an instant, filling the air with splinters of glass, the frames and steel supports buckling and bending and blowing clean out from the force of it.

Benezia glanced between the ruined, empty wall and her outstretched, seemingly dazed, panting, visibly swaying on her feet. A look of bewilderment crossed her face, and she turned in an uncertain circle, staring around at the rest of the building, the walls, the ceiling, the plants as if she were seeing them all for the first time. Falere didn't dare move, holding her breath as Benezia's gaze darted around the rest of the greenhouse, hoping beyond hope that it was done, that whatever... madness had taken the Matriarch had passed. The hope was short-lived: a new look, one of determination, appeared on Benezia's face, biotic power pooling in her suddenly clenched fist.

"No," Falere heard herself whisper again in horror.

One wall they could rebuild. More than that, though, might bring the entire structure down. If that happened everything she'd worked to build here could be lost.

"Enough," Mother barked.

Her own biotics flared and, with a flick of her wrist, she captured the other matriarch in the strongest stasis field Falere had ever seen. But it was barely enough. The field warped and bulged outwards unnaturally, struggling to contain the forces being brought to bear within. Benezia's face contorted in fear and fury, eyes blazing white.

Still without taking her eyes off her captive, her voice laced with sudden strain, Mother said: "Falere, there is a doctor somewhere in the camp. Find her immediately. I will keep her contained until you return."

"Where should I look? I don't know-"

Mother's eyes darted towards her; the momentary, tiny lapse in concentration was all it took. Benezia struck instantly, shattering the stasis field in a blinding explosion of biotic force that overturned benches, ruptured pipes and sent still more glass exploding outwards. Falere didn't even have time to scream as she was knocked off her feet, rolling up hard against an overturned table. She curled up into a ball as she was pelted by flying and falling debris, drenched by a sudden spray of cold water.

It took only seconds, she knew, for the worst of it to pass, but it seemed like she lay there for hours, dazed and senseless. Colour returned only slowly to the world, coming in dribs and drabs as she blinked against white-hot after-image. Purple blood: her own, she realised distantly, touching her hand to her cheek and feeling it come away sticky. The green and blue of her plants, the dark, rich browns of damp soil the grey of river mud. Shining silver steel and red rust.

Coughing against a lung-full of dust, she rolled over, onto her back. There was a rainbow, when she looked up, the sun momentarily peaking through the clouds and the gaping holes in the roof to set colours dancing upon the spray from a broken pipe. She stared at the sight, uncomprehending, struggling to make sense of such simple beauty amidst such destruction. It seemed... incongruous.

Sound came next, beyond the high-pitched ringing in her ears. Water; the hiss of a high-pressure spray, the rapid plink-plink of small droplets striking metal, the steady gurgle and glug of a large leak, somewhere. Glass, tinkling and chiming, crunching and grinding against itself. Creaking metal, groaning under strain. And a voice. Not Mother's. Benezia. Shouting. Where was Mother? Was she alright?

"I will leave this place!" the Matriarch shout. "I won't let you take everything!"

The air smelled of earth and ozone. The wake of a thunderstorm.

She'd always loved thunderstorms.

Using the table as leverage, Falere pulled herself slowly to her feet. Her head swam with each smallest motion, and her vision blurred, doubled. Had she struck her head? Nausea rose hard in the wake of the thought, bile in the back of her throat with the dust. Wasn't that what happened with a concussion?

When focus finally returned, it was to see Benezia advancing upon Mother. Benezia's corona leapt and crackled blue around her, her eyes still blazing. Mother was down on one knee before her, clearly dazed from the energy backlash, but with sense enough, at least, to hold up a barrier. It was just as well: with each step forward, the Matriarch sent a wave of biotic force aimed directly at her, blow after blow battering at the barrier and sending all manner of debris flying. Tables and steel struts flung about as if they were a child's playthings. The air full of lethal glass.

"Stop! Please!" Falere called out before she could think any better of it. Her head was still ringing; when she let go of the table, she swayed on her feet. Tears stung her eyes. "She hasn't done anything to harm you!"

Benezia wheeled around to face her; nothing in her expression hinted at recognition. Or restraint.

"Please," Falere said again, taking an unconscious step backwards.

Her foot slipped and skidded out from underneath her; she went down onto one knee and felt the shock of the impact ripple up through her body, driving away the last vestiges of befuddlement.

"Please..?" Benezia said. "Please stop?!" Her voice cracked and broke at the last, and her biotic halo abruptly faded, her eyes pale blue and pleading. "I wanted to stop. So much. I begged. I pleaded." She laughed abruptly, hysterically. "I even prayed, for all the good it would do. But I couldn't. Not until it was too late. I couldn't protect you."

"Protect me?" Falere said carefully, uncertain. She regained her feet slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. "From what?"

Benezia, though, ignored her question. Her expression went from manic to morose in a heartbeat.

"You shouldn't be here either!" she complained brokenly. "I saw you die. I-" the word was closer to a sob, "Oh Goddess, I thought it was a mercy!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Falere could see Mother getting back to her feet, dropping her barrier. She was bleeding from her nose and a half-dozen cuts to her scalp and sternum, her maroon armour soaking wet and splattered with mud to go with the blood. Falere stepped slightly to the side, to better bring her into view. The Matriarch turned with her, and turned again as Falere took another small step, until Benezia had her back fully to Mother.

"But I'm not dead," she replied as soothingly as she could manage. "See? I'm just a little bit, um, bruised."

It was evidently the wrong thing to have said: Benezia's corona flared up again, her eyes wild.

"You are dead!" Benezia insisted. "I felt... I had to do it. The first. That's why you're here, isn't it? Isn't it!?"

She stepped forward, one hand raised to point accusingly, the other, at her side, glowing with biotic energy. Falere took a step backwards, and nearly stumbled again, her calf striking an overturned algae vat, cutting off her immediate escape.

"Taunting me," Benezia continued, angry once more. "You deserved better. You all did. I can't change that. But I can stop this... desecration. I will end it here. No more."

Benezia dropped the first hand and raised the second, preparing to strike. Wishing to the Goddess above - and not for the first time - that she'd been allowed to keep up her biotic practice when she'd joined the monastery, Falere brought up her barrier. It shimmered weakly, malformed; it would be no match for the Matriarch, who had already overpowered Mother, a Justicar, trained and sworn.

Ironic, really, that, out of all of the camp and its upturned noses, dark looks and hostile guardians, she faced death at the hands of someone she was increasingly certain didn't actually bear her any ill will at all.

But it wasn't meant to be - thank Athame, it wasn't meant to be. Mother was upon Benezia before she could deliver the promised strike, a few quick, silent strides launching a tackle that took Benezia in the small of the back and bore her hard to the ground. The two Matriarchs rolled together at Falere's feet, struggling in the puddle of water and mud. Benezia managed to twist around to wind up on her back, kicking out in an effort to break free of Mother's hold, lashing out with wild fists. It was to no avail, though. Mother ignored those few blows that landed true as if they were if no consequence and methodically used her superior weight, strength and position to pin Benezia to the earth, a leg upon her chest, a knee at her throat.

In the shell of her ruined greenhouse, amidst the broken glass and dying plants, Falere stood, frozen to the spot, as her Mother increased the weight she applied to Benezia's chest, slowly crushing the life out of someone Falere had respected, had perhaps even hoped might be a friend, of sorts, in this dreadful place. With every second that passed, Benezia's struggles grew weaker, and the desperation and terror writ large across her face more pronounced. She clawed at Mother's leg with bloodied fingers.

This was the killer kneeling before her, Falere realised asbruptly. The Justicar who'd hunted Mirala for hundreds of years and then killed her in cold blood with her own two hands. Who'd seen no way to exist in a galaxy where Falere was free. Who'd put a gun to her own head in the place where Rila had died to save them both.

"Mother, no," she said, finally finding her voice again. "She doesn't know what she's doing."

When the Justicar didn't respond, Falere nerved herself and stepped forward, moving in close enough to touch, if she wanted to, kneeling down herself to look the other asari in the eyes.

"Please," she said, and let the tears fall. "There's been too much death already."

Even as she said the words, Benezia arched and twisted one more time, and then went still, body slack, head lolling backwards.

The Justicar arose and regarded Falere, her eyes cold, her face expressionless. Benezia took in a sudden, gasping breath, but did not wake.

"She will live."

a/n: Real life: what a kick in the quad. Thanks to all who've left feedback, and stuck around reading this thing after so long between updates. Much love to you all.