Author's Note: Just corrected some typos :D

Slowly the sound of the gentle surf, the smell of salt air, the warmth of sun began to fade. Tan fingers clasped a little more tightly to the sweep of a blue shoulder as the dim light and metal lines of her quarters once more fully asserted themselves, true reality returning. It was not this shift of landscape that she resisted as much as the painless separation, the slow divide from one back into two as souls gingerly divided once again. It was a slightly disorienting, lonely sensation.

"Shepard," Liara's soft whisper was trembling, breathless, a faint echo of the passionate cry that she had released not moments before.

"It's ok," Shepard murmured back. Trying to catch her own breath, she lightly kissed the asari's forehead, just above her eyebrow. Liara lowered her head, pulling Shepard even closer. The human woman felt the soft press of lips on her shoulder a moment before a light, warm, wet .

"Hey…" Concern filled her voice as she realized the moisture was tears. "Tianlán…"

"I did not think I could feel…" Liara's voice was so faint she could barely make out the words. "I…I am all right. Better than all right…I just…by the Goddess…"

Shepard smiled faintly, fingertips trailing down the back of the asari's neck and shoulders. "Yeah," she teased gently. "You said that a few times…"

Liara giggled a little, snuggling closer with a hum of contentment. After a moment the asari shifted, lightly pressing Shepard's shoulder with her hand. Shepard lay back, smiling up at the scientist as she smiled down at her. Ducking in briefly, Liara gave her a quick kiss, then met her eyes. "I am going to make us some tea."

"Tea?" Shepard smirked with baffled amusement. "Right now?"

"Yes," Liara replied. The room behind her melted away into white marble columns, slants of clouded gray sky beyond pregnant with rain. With it, Liara's face changed, lines of weariness settling in between her eyes which faded from bright sky blue to dull gray fog. Her voice had changed as well, a low monotone as cold as the grave."Tea is traditional for Sendings…"

"Sending…Liara, a Sending is a funer-"

Liara straightened and stepped back a pace from the hard marble block on which Shepard lay. She was dressed in her lab coat, which was oddly bound around the waist by heavy black ropes. As she moved backward, Shepard struggled to sit up.

A badly burned and melted hard-suit encased her like a vice. The congealed lumps of plastic and metal held firm, resisting any attempt to move. She cried out in pain and determination, fighting against it. Great chunks of burned skin peeled off of her body as she tore her way into a sit. Meaty, gray, scorched chunks of her own muscle, lousy with maggots, pattered down to the cool white marble. Yellowed bone cracked and split as she made it to her feet. "Liara, wait!"

Drifts of dead flowers reached to her knees, their aroma the sweet, dry smell of decay. Liara was in the doorway now, beyond her a smooth green lawn and that mournful sky.

"Don't!" Shepard cried after her, struggling to go forward. She tore at her ruined armor. A large chunk of it came free, rending away flesh again with it. Shepard uttered a grit-toothed cry at the sensation of ripping muscle and skin, the raping gouge as her torso was flayed by her own motion.

"Don't leave me!" Shepard screamed after the asari, who was walking away, stepping to the grass and moving further away with every stride. She could see a distant drell across the lawn, waiting patiently for her.

"Don't leave me!" Shepard screamed again, then cried out as her struggle to move forward tore her leg free from her knee like an overcooked chicken bone. Congealed blood and a spill of writhing worms slimed the crushed dead flowers as she stumbled, struggling to remain upright. "Don't leave me! Tianlán! I'm not dead! I'm not dead!"

As she collapsed forward into the dry brown petals she could feel her body tearing apart, searing as if with flame, being consumed into nothing.

Shepard's eyes opened as she let out a heavy breath, and for a moment she could only stare up into the dark, disoriented and confused. Her hair was damp, the back of her neck and shoulders uncomfortably warm, her blankets an impossible tangle wound around her.

Reality and memory returned. It was a dream. Just that, nothing more.

She glanced over at her clock, which showed it was just after 0400. Untangling herself, she shifted into a sit, wiping her hands over her face. Knowing she would get no more sleep she got up and padded to the bathroom.

In moments she was standing under the spray of her shower, the water hot enough to redden her skin uncomfortably. Even after she finished washing she still stood there, head bowed forward beneath soaked tendrils of hair as thick and heavy as seaweed, eyes closed.

They'd stopped the plague in the lower district. By the time they got back to the clinic people were already showing marked improvements. She'd sought out Daniel before even looking for Solus, and the assistant had brought her to see the baby. Clean, treated, the tiny little girl was in a heated incubator, attached to an IV to help her rehydrate, give her some much needed nutrition until she was strong enough to suckle again.

"I think she's going to make it," Daniel had murmured to her, smiling a little as Shepard watched the rise and fall of the girl's breathing, the dreamy little motions of her mouth and chin.

"Have you found her mother yet?" she asked.

"Not yet, but we will."

"If she's dead, what will happen to the baby?" Shepard wanted to know.

"Next of kin will be located and take custody," he told her. "If none can be found or none wish to accept the responsibility, she'll be sent to an orphanage on Thessia. Chances of that are very small, however. Her father was salarian. Even if no asari relation can be found, he doubtless had a dozen brothers and an even larger extended family. Chances that all of them will not want her are extremely remote."

As she stood in the shower, Shepard thought idly that she'd contact the clinic again before they left, see if her mother hadn't been found, or some willing relative. She wanted to make sure the child was safe.

No one deserved to grow up unwanted.

Finally shutting the shower off she dried and dressed, peering critically into the mirror. The red lines were fewer now, smaller, noticeably fading though they still had quite a ways to go. As well she didn't look as skinny as she had, proper meals and exercise starting to fill her out to something resembling a normal human being. Soon, she hoped, she'd look like a normal marine.

As the Normandy was still in dock, and as the hour was so early, the corridors and mess were all but completely deserted. Shepard lingered in the latter only long enough to make herself some coffee, before she took the lift down to the lower levels.

Engineering was quiet, empty. Wandering through she halted at the railing that overlooked the large drive core, which spun slowly and almost sleepily, the engines idle.

Drawing a cigar out of her pocket she lit it and then leaned on the rail, lazily watching the core as she smoked and sipped at her coffee. One may have mistook her expression for one being deep in thought but truth be told, she was trying not to think of anything at all…just for a few moments.

"Hey, who are you? Ye can't smoke en here," A man's voice, more than lightly touched with a Scottish brogue, piped up indignantly behind her.

Shepard straightened, turning around. The man standing there had a data pad in one hand, coffee in his other, doubtlessly going through the first checklist of the day. He had a scowl on his face as he tried to figure out who this civvie was that had somehow snuck on board and into his engine room just to have a smoke and a coffee.

The scowl didn't last long, swiftly changing to surprise as he caught sight of her face. He stiffened, tucking the pad quickly under his arm and saluting.

"Oh…Commander! I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you."

"At ease," she told him. "Nothing to say sorry for. We haven't met yet, have we?"

"No ma'am. I'm Engineer Kenneth Donnelly. I keep this sweet girl purring."

"We keep her purring," a woman's voice broke in as a second form rounded the corner. "Engineer Gabriella Daniels, ma'am."

"You two do get an early start, don't you?"

"Normally no, but we wanted to do a full maintenance scan and update before we left Omega. Operative Lawson hinted we would likely be departing tomorrow and the entire process takes about twelve hours so, the sooner the better."

"Oh, Lawson did, did she?" Shepard murmured into her coffee.

"Was she mistaken, ma'am?" Donnelly asked. Shepard waved a hand idly before tucking her cigar back in her mouth.

"No, probably not. I just love how I'm the fucking commander around here and yet she gives all the orders."

The pair were awkwardly silent a moment before Daniels cleared her throat. "If you'd like, we can give you a tour, ma'am."

"No, that's all right, thank you. You two been with Cerberus long?"

"Not long," Donnelly said. "To be honest, this was our first mission with the organization."

"Yeah, mine too," Shepard smirked.

The man smiled, an action which seemed to reduce him instantly to twelve years old. "Not te sound like a gushing fan-boy, Commander, but having the chance te work under your command makes me downright giddy. I mean, Torfan alone-"

"Kenneth, you sound like a gushing fan-boy," Daniels interrupted with mild irritation. Looking at Shepard she said, "It's just an honor to work with you, ma'am. Especially on a mission as important at this one."

"Emportant esn't the half of et," Donnelly beamed. "Weth you along, Commander, we're gonna kick the Collectors right en the daddy-bags!"

Shepard lifted her brows, fighting a smirk. Daddy-bags. That was a good one. She'd have to remember it.

"Well, good to know I have your confidence," she told them. She drained the last of her coffee. Her cigar all but spent she tossed the butt into the cup to extinguish it, then dumped them both in the reclamation unit nearby.

"I'll leave you two to your work. I'm sure there's probably something I should be doing as well. It was nice to meet you both."

As she headed for the lift she heard the two start talking, apparently unaware she was still able to hear them.

"I dedn't thenk she'd come down here and talk to us," Donnelly said.

"I told you she would," Daniels replied. "Shepard's a good commander, and good commanders know their crew."

"Aye, I suppose so. It's strange though."

"What's strange?"

"I always thought she'd be taller."

Miranda sat alone at a table in the mess when Shepard got back upstairs. Rupert was up now, the galley filling with smoke and steam as he started up breakfast.

The Australian was reading a data pad as she sipped at a cup of coffee. Shepard watched her silently a moment before grabbing a second cup, and then striding over, pulling out the chair opposite the operative, turning it around, and straddling it. As she set her coffee down Miranda looked up at her with mute surprise.

"Good morning, Commander," she said. "I was not expecting you to be awake already."

"Neither was I," Shepard replied. "What about you? What stirs you at this ungodly hour, or is this just normal routine?"

"Most of the time. I like to get an early start, and I don't need much sleep," she said.

"A trait Cerberus no doubt admires greatly."

"Of course," Miranda responded. "Cerberus admires any initiative, personal or otherwise, that forwards the cause as a whole."

"Hmm." Shepard responded neutrally, faintly nodding. After a moment of awkward silence, she met her XO's eyes.

"So, give," she said. "Full skinny."

"Full skinny...? I'm afraid I don't-"

"C'mon, Lawson. As everyone keeps telling me, you know pretty much all there is to know about me. I think it's only fair if the favor is returned, don't you? Especially if we have to trust one another?"

"Oh. Well, all right." She set the data pad aside, but it didn't escape Shepard's notice how she did so. She didn't merely set it down casually and ignore it. She set it quite precisely, two fingers nudging it slightly until its edge was lined up perfectly with the edge of the table. The motion was clearly one of habit.

"I suppose one of the most important things you should know about me, I've had extensive genetic modification."

Genetic therapy and modification wasn't entirely unheard of. Usually done in utero to correct some emergent disorder before a child was even born, gene therapy could be simple and relatively inexpensive…or require several repeat treatments and cost an astronomical amount. Williams, for example, had received some gene therapy before she'd been born, to correct a family tendency for near-sightedness. That Miranda felt the need to bring it up…and right out of the gate…suggested this wasn't just something that had been done so she wouldn't have to wear lenses.

"What disease…if it's not too personal?" she asked.

"No disease, Shepard," Miranda replied. "My father wanted…well, for argument's sake, he wanted a tailor-made child, one to his precise specifications. As a result of his choices I heal quickly, will probably live half again as long as the average human. I am highly intelligent, very strong biotically for a human…even my looks were designed to give me an edge."

Shepard cocked one corner of her mouth. "I see your self-esteem, as well, is extremely healthy."

"It's not bragging, I'm merely stating facts," Miranda replied. "To be honest, it's what we have in common. We're both here right now because of genetic engineering, interference in the natural order. The difference is, you were engineered because of who you already were. I am who I am because I was engineered."

Shepard smirked again, snorting a laugh before taking a sip of her coffee. "Bullshit."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not who you are just because your father hand-picked selections."

"Yes, I am Shepard," Miranda replied. "My intelligence, my talents, my looks…the only thing I can take responsibility for are my mistakes."

"Because you had no hand in your intelligence, your talents, or your looks?" Shepard intoned dryly. "Yeah, welcome to the rest of the goddamn galaxy."

When Miranda blinked at her Shepard shook her head. "You think I picked my looks or my talents? How smart I was? Do you think anyone anywhere ever has? Just like you, we get what's handed to us by our parents. It's all in the genes. I didn't choose my eye color, I have brown eyes because my sperm donor of a father had brown eyes. The only difference is, your father said 'let her have blue eyes' rather than just rely on the random spin of the genetic wheel."

Lifting her cup again she looked into it and mumbled as if speaking to the brew. "All the looks, brains and talent in the universe won't do jack spit if you don't choose to use them."

Miranda sat back in her chair. "It's not so simple as all that. I was made to be perfect, Shepard-"

"And yet you're not. You…consider that a failure, don't you? That you're not perfect. Who is it you think you're failing? Your old man?"

"I couldn't care less what he thinks," Miranda spat with surprising venom. Shepard lifted her brows.

"Ok, obvious sore spot. Sorry about that."

"It's…never mind. A subject for another day. I'd rather not talk about him."

"Understood," Shepard nodded. "I won't push then. Change of subject if you want. We can talk shop. Yesterday you mentioned you had a theory about why the Collectors were taking such an interest in humans. Care to share?"

Miranda's glance at the commander was trepidatious. Shepard could see the weighing of heavy thoughts and lifted her chin a little.

"What…what is it you think I won't like?" she prodded.

Miranda touched the data pad again, correcting its perfect measure with the edge of the table another millimeter. "Commander, you must understand this is just a theory. We have no concrete evidence as yet."

"Go on," Shepard ordered. Miranda met her eyes.

"I believe the Collectors are interested in humanity because of you."

Shepard lifted her brows in surprise. "Me?"

"The facts would seem to point that direction. We believe the Collectors are working as agents for the Reapers. They did not change their behavior patterns until a human fleet defeated Sovereign at the Citadel…a fleet there at your command, while you defeated one of Sovereign's top agents. Then, suddenly…almost immediately, the Collectors begin to kidnap only human colonies and try and unleash a plague that kills all but human beings."

She leaned forward a little, placing a fingertip on the table as if pinning down her point. "They attacked the Normandy in what could have been an attempt to get you, Shepard. And I don't believe its coincidence that Freedom's Progress was one of the colonies abducted…the colony where lived a woman with direct ties to you. And…"

She drew her hand back, a look of debate on her face once again before she finally inclined her head in surrender. "It was no smooth process to recover your body," she said. "Truth be told we were not the ones that retrieved it from Alchera at all. Agents of the Shadow Broker did."

"The Shadow Broker," Shepard breathed. "But…why?"

"For the Collectors," Miranda told her. "Apparently they contacted him and made arrangements to purchase your remains for a great deal of money, information, and technology. The single largest price the Collectors have ever offered for any one of their coveted specimens. The exchange was literally interrupted in progress by our own agents who managed to recover the pod and deliver it to Lazarus station. A few more minutes, Commander, and you would have been in the Collectors' possession and out of our reach."

For me? All that, all of this, because of me? I'm just a marine, just a soldier. Thousands of humans fought at the Citadel to bring Sovereign down.

A deeper part of her mind echoed the painful truth. It was because of her. Her actions had drawn the Reapers specific attention. It could not be often that one of their number was taken down and though she hadn't fired the shot that had done it, she was the one that had brought things to a head, that had halted Saren's machinations and led events ultimately to their destructive conclusion.

Which meant this was all her fault. The attack on the Normandy, the thousands of missing colonists, Nan, every person who had died of the plague on Omega…all because of her.

"That is why I didn't want to tell you, Shepard," Miranda said, knowing full well what Shepard's expression meant. "This was not your fault. You took the only action you could, the right action. You saved billions of lives. Had you not done what you did, none of us would be here now. The Citadel, humanity, Earth…all would be gone. And if it is true that you are their motivation, then we can use that to our advantage, stop them from doing anything more."

Logically she knew Miranda was right, but that didn't stop a little part of her soul from aching a bit more, crushing a bit further under the weight of the tragedy her very existence had caused this galaxy.

Wordlessly she fished in her pocket, drawing out another cigar and her lighter. As she tucked it in her mouth, flicking on the flame, Miranda watched her.

"That is a puzzle I haven't figured out just yet," she murmured. Shepard looked up from lighting the cigar, the first puff of smoke filtering out through her lips and nostrils.

"What's that?"

"Well, your smoking," Miranda replied. "You no longer have any addiction to tobacco. Your entire system was rebuilt from its very chemical foundation upward. You should have no more physical desire to smoke than a newborn child. And genetically you have no markers for any kind of oral fixation. Yet you almost immediately went back to the habit. I can only conclude that is the only reason you did…habit. Habits are repetitions that cause distinct neural pathways to develop and we made sure to regenerate your neural pathways exactly-"

"Including my psychosis and neuroses I'd imagine," Shepard agreed, puffing out another cloud. "My smoking is not a physical addiction, never was. Well, no, I'm sure I was addicted to tobacco after how long I was using it but that was a simple side-effect. It's a psychological quirk, one of many and varied. Kind of like your OCD."

"I do not have OCD," Miranda blinked.

Shepard snorted another laugh, plucking the stogie out of her mouth between two fingers. "Yes, you do. I can prove it."

"Well, go on then," Miranda challenged.

Reaching out with her free hand Shepard nudged the top of the data pad until it slanted a little. Not much motion, just a centimeter…just enough to put it at a bit of a cant.

Then she drew her hand back and fixed her eyes on Miranda's.

She could see the almost physical struggle pass over the woman's face a moment before she let out a breath of frustration, reached out, and nudged it back into place.

"You see?" Shepard grinned.

"I just like symmetry," Miranda retorted. Shepard smirked with sarcastic disbelief.

Miranda scowled at her, then slowly began to smile. Shepard grinned back.

As Shepard stepped into Mordin's clinic the first thing she noticed was how empty it was. Just yesterday there had been wall to wall patients, filling every inch of available space. Now only one or two lingered, and the general air was one of relief instead of pain.

She walked past the mechs who remained at their posts, looking around the small waiting room for someone to ask about the baby, when she suddenly heard her name tentatively spoken.

"Shepard?"

She turned around, and for one startled, heart-wrenching moment, it was Liara standing there, cheeks damp. Her breath literally caught in her throat, the asari's name on the tip of her tongue, before the illusion faded.

It was an asari woman, young and pretty, but it wasn't her Tianlán. The thrill of hope was replaced with an almost molten sink in her gut, a weary freshening of grief. Powerless for a brief second in its grip, she simply stood there when the woman suddenly stepped forward and embraced her with a sob.

"Uh…" she murmured, lifting a tentative hand to lightly pat the asari's back. "Do…I know you?"

"No, I…I'm sorry," the girl sniffled, releasing her and wiping her cheeks. "My name is Vivek Komaravolu. Dr. Solus told me who you were, gave me your name. You are the woman that saved my little Nora…"

Shepard nodded solemnly, understanding. "The baby," she murmured. "I'm glad that I was able to help her. I'm only sorry I didn't get there sooner. How is she?"

"She's going to be just fine thanks to you," Vivek told her, eyes swimming. "When I think of how long she was there, hurt and all alone…and my poor Rylek. Some friends had invited me to go shopping on the upper levels but I hadn't left the house since Nora was born. Rylek was so understanding, so insistent that I go have fun, that he would take care of her. Then the plague…by the time we got back they had locked down the district, wouldn't let any of us in. I begged but they wouldn't listen, I…"

Fresh tears came and she covered her eyes. Reaching out, Shepard gently took her arm, guiding her to a nearby bench to sit down, seating herself beside her.

After a moment, Vivek steadied herself again. "We were only bond-mates for two years," she murmured. "My mother…thought my choice was silly but Rylek was always so sweet, so gentle. And when Nora was born, oh he was so good with her. She had him wrapped about her finger the moment he first held her and now…he will never get to see her grow."

She wiped her eyes again, then looked at Shepard. "Do you have children, Shepard? A mate…er…husband? That is what humans call them, I think…"

"No," Shepard's voice was low and thick. "No children."

"But a love," Vivek insisted, searching her face. "I can see it in your eyes. You have…lost, like I have, haven't you?"

"I…yes, in a way," Shepard replied. "Death separated us too."

Vivek reached out and grasped Shepard's hand, squeezing it. "Then you understand," she murmured. "And you understand what a gift that you gave me, in saving my little girl. I can…I can never repay you for her. No words of gratitude will ever be sufficient."

"Just…let me know how she's doing, from time to time," Shepard said. "A reminder now and again would be nice."

"A reminder? Of such a horrible thing?"

"No," Shepard answered. "A reminder that I did…well, something right."

Vivek took her hand and gently squeezed it, before quite unabashedly leaning over and kissing her cheek. Then she wiped her face again, and stood. "Would you like to come see her?"

"Oh…thank you, but…no, I can't, not at the moment. I have…there are things, I should be seeing too. Thank you though."

Vivek said nothing, only offered a small smile and an understanding brush of her fingers over Shepard's shoulder, before she headed away to see to her daughter.

Mornings on Tuchanka were bright, and despite the cooling shade of the ivy growing over the windows and doorway, the sun would not be thwarted.

Great lancing shafts of yellow and gold broke through the vines, casting slashes of luminescence over the well-polished wood tables. The scent of paper, cloth, wood-oil and leather mingled with the sweet spice of the flowers as a breeze stirred the tangles of summersong in a light eddy.

This was the inner sanctum of the athenaeum, and only one figure occupied it. Sitting at the far table with her back toward Eír, immersed in reading, was Shrive. A glass of some sweet juice rested at hand, and her long fingers idly drifted over the rim in idle, graceful motions.

No sound was made at the careful draw of dagger from sheath, Eír's hand confidently gripping the handle of the blade. The gleam of sunlight as it caught on steel was carefully shaded, so as not to cast a tell-tale reflection over table or wall. Each cautious step of her soft boots made no more sound than the passing of time itself.

She was a predator, graceful and stealth, muscles coiled, eyes dilated, nostrils flared in anticipation of the blood of her prey. Her entire being urged to feel the strike, the hot rush of life spilling over her hands.

Shrive's fingers tapped on the cup, and there was a rustle of paper. Eír froze a moment, holding her breath, waiting. When the girl gave no clue she even sensed she was anything but alone, Eír crept forward again.

So close now. The scent of her prey, a mix of well-worked leather and spice, mingled just faintly with the heady aroma of summersong, filled her nostrils. She drew the knife carefully back, readying her strike.

Just below her shoulders, slightly to the right. She would pierce the lung, the action immediately stealing Shrive's breath. She'd be unable to react, unable to cry out or make even the slightest sound. And then a quick slash across her neck, deep, hard and swift.

Just as she tensed for the blow Shrive snatched up the cup and Eír found herself blinded as juice splashed over her face. She had inhaled at just the wrong moment and it burned her airways. She gasped, half-choking.

A wrench of the wrist and the knife was gone. The ground vanished beneath her feet, only to slam up with bruising force beneath her back and hips. An arm pressed against her throat and as she coughed, finally blinking her eyes clear, she saw Shrive's face, her hand poised to strike, wreathed in blue fire.

"How…"she rasped as oxygen finally returned to her airways. Her stunned expression changed to a scowl. "How did you know?"

"A trick every hunter knows," Shrive said sternly. "When you stalk prey, remain downwind…especially if you insist on bathing with sandalwood soap."

The blue fire died as Shrive released her, snatching up the dagger and rising to her feet. Eír coughed again, rolling onto her side as she wiped a hand over her face, petulantly climbing to her feet. Shrive was regarding her dagger as if she'd never seen one before, and as Eír held her hand out for it, met her eyes.

"I wonder," she smirked. "Had I not stopped you, would this dagger even now be sheathed in my throat? Would you really have killed me, Eír?"

Eír said nothing, only stared at her. After a moment, Shrive flipped the blade in her hand, offering it back to the girl hilt first.

"Today we study," she said as Eír took it and sheathed it. Turning she plucked a volume up off the table, holding it out.

"An actual book?" Eír asked, looking at it disdainfully. "With pages?"

"And wisdom," Shrive replied. "Something you need a dose or two of."

Though Eír had been under Shrive and Misira's tutelage now for two days, she still had not fully let go of her over-confidence, her recklessness. Shrive kept having to remind herself the girl was young.

Though as Eír sat down at the table, Shrive scrutinizing her as she resumed her seat, she had to wonder. When they had first met, Shrive would have guessed Eír's age at sixty, or sixty five. Studying her now, however, and she had the look of one over eighty. Her features were slightly leaner, more mature. It may have been a subtle trick of the light but it was…odd, for all of that.

"Eír, how old are you?" She asked. "I don't know that mother ever truly said."

"I don't know if she was every actually told," Eír responded.

When she said no more, Shrive lifted a brow. "Well?"

Eír looked at her with a frown. "I am ninety seven," she responded. "Is your curiosity now sated?"

"My curiosity and the curiosity of any being that seeks wisdom is never sated," Shrive replied. "Strange…you are not much younger than I. When we first met I thought you were not nearly that old."

"So?"

"So, you call a human woman 'mother'…a human woman that cannot be half of your age. Her people are not nearly as long lived as the asari or the krogan. You are not truly her child, not the spawn of her bonding with another asari so, I must wonder…how have you come to call her mother? Who are your true parents?"