Sydney smiled as she leaned against the corridor bulkhead, opening the flashing message on her omni-tool. A holographic rose appeared, hovering over her arm, and her smile grew softer as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear almost self-consciously. Clearing the image she read the text message accompanying it.

Admit it. I got you to smile. I remain utterly terrific and you know it.

Shaking her head she quickly typed a reply.

Egotistical you mean, and I admit nothing. Just a heads up, some resource shipments will be coming in to the Folly soon, along with some design schematics. Going to make you boys earn your goddamn pay.

She sent it, and only a few moments later a reply appeared.

You always did know how to talk dirty, you flirt you. If you want in my pants just say so.

She shook her head with a snort of laughter, clearing her omni-tool and straightening as she headed in to the main hub.

Just as the doors parted something big flew at her face. With a dart, she barely got out of the way in time as the chair, lit with biotic fire, went tumbling down the corridor. "Holy fuck!"

Gaping into the room she spotted Liara, lit up with biotics like a torch, a scowl on her face as she grasped another chair with the same energy, and pitched it against the wall.

"Uh…something wrong sweetie?" Sydney ventured.

Liara stalked toward her, biotics only slightly dying as she went. "Prepare your ship. We are going to rendezvous with the Normandy at Tuchanka."

"Why? What's happened?" Sydney asked, alarmed now as she fell into step behind the asari. "Has something happened to Del?"

"It is not what has happened to Del that is the issue," Liara stated, before her voice lowered dangerously. "It is what is going to happen to her…"

Shepard sat on the bench in the idling shuttle, the door open and waiting for Grunt to finish his goodbyes to his new friends. Mordin was sitting beside her, the shuttle's small medi-kit on his lap as he treated the cuts on her face.

"Broken nose, cracked teeth, broken shoulder, two fingers, bruised spleen, pancreas, fractured ankle, evidence of concussion, minor sub-orbital hemorrhage…"

"Is that all," Shepard joked, holding on to her side with her least aching hand. "Good to know he barely touched me."

"Shoulder will have to be surgically repaired," he declared. "Helen will be most displeased."

"Eh, I keep her in business," Shepard smirked tiredly, then turned her head toward the open door of the shuttle as she heard Grunt's voice…and another's. Both sounded irritated.

Getting to her feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that came over her, she limped carefully over to the door and looked outward.

Grunt was standing on the landing platform, talking with Gatatog Uvenk. A pair of the older male's were lingering nearby as well. Neither Grunt nor Uvenk looked pleased.

"You are strong, I will admit," Uvenk scowled. "And you were created by one of us, which is preferable than being a twisted mimicry sculpted by aliens. However you are wasting yourself under the human's command."

"Wasting myself?" Grunt asked narrowly. "The enemies we fight threaten galaxies. Who are your enemies, Uvenk? Pyjak? Dust and stone?"

"My enemies are enemies to all the krogan," Uvenk said hotly. "The humans are weak, soft, self-important monkeys! It is an insult that you follow them."

"I don't follow them, I follow Shepard. She helped me to kill a thresher maw. She stood firm against Urdnot Wrex. And as I remember, she nearly knocked you on your ass."

"If you have a problem with me, Uvenk, you need to take it up with me," Shepard interrupted, gingerly hopping down to the ground. "Grunt has chosen his clan and his battle master. Why do you care if he follows a human or not?"

"It is an insult to the krogan," Uvenk snarled, striding over and glaring down on her face. Instantly Mordin tensed, weapon in hand and pointed at the male. In response, Uvenk's two lackeys also readied their guns.

"No, that's not the reason," Shepard glared into his eyes. "You thought he was weak plastic, but then he proved he was strong. Oh, and not just strong, but strong enough to kill the thresher maw. So you started thinking. Such a strong krogan should be used to glorify Gatatog instead of Urdnot, right? You're not thinking about the krogan, you're thinking only about you, you and your tiny little clan. Wrex is thinking about all his people, all clans, but you can't stand that, can you? You're nothing but a mewling greedy little coward-"

Uvenk snarled and swung out his hand to strike her, only to have it grabbed by Grunt. Snarling himself, Grunt shoved him back, flinging him to the ground. Mordin and the two lackeys tensed, and Shepard drew her side-arm, aiming it at Uvenk as well.

"You are weak and not worthy of respect," Grunt huffed, then spat at Uvenk's feet. "Your blood isn't even worthy enough to soil the bullets of my krant."

Turning he headed past Shepard and into the shuttle. She leveled a good, one-eyed glare at the sprawled krogan and shipped her pistol again, following him. Mordin reluctantly lowered his, offering his hand to help Shepard inside.

"Come back here," Uvenk roared, getting to his feet. "Don't you dare ignore me, boy! Don't you ignore-"

His rant was cut off as the shuttle door closed, the vehicle lifting off the pad in a roar of engines that completely drowned out the angry krogan's useless threats.

"Well, Mordin is correct," Chakwas said as she looked down at Shepard, removing the diagnostic screen. "That shoulder is going to need surgery. And I don't want to hear the first complaint about being kept off duty for the next three days. This is what happens when you get into a boxing match with a krogan."

"Awesome match though it was," Joker replied from where he lingered nearby.

Shepard's brows knit as she fixed him with her good eye. "What do you mean…awesome match?" she asked warily.

"We all saw it," Chakwas told her, preparing her sedative. "The entire crew."

"What?"

"Grunt sent it up," Joker said quickly. "I thought he'd asked you first."

"You could at least have won, Shepard," Chakwas told her. "I had twenty riding on you."

"You were betting? Joker-" she began hotly, starting to sit up before Chakwas pressed her down again.

He looked nervous, watching as Chakwas put the injection to Shepard's neck. "Uh, that's not the worst of it…" he admitted.

"Joker…" she warned.

"I…kind of let it spill to Liara that you were fighting him…and that you'd fought a thresher maw…"

"YOU WHAT?" Shepard gaped. "Joker I'm going to turn your fucking intestines into a bu…"

She broke off, eyes rolling back, body going limp as Chakwas administered the sedative.

"You do realize you're dead when she wakes up," the doctor told him.

"Yeah," he pouted, rubbing the back of his neck. "At least this way, I get the chance to make out a will."

Miranda stood stiffly, watching as the shuttle powered down, Liara, Wilcher and Sydney disembarking. The asari was noticeably stone-faced as she strode forward toward the lift, Miranda turning and falling into step beside her.

"We didn't know," she told her. "I was under the impression it was shown with Shepard's knowledge-"

"I am not concerned with the crew seeing it," Liara said tersely. "I am concerned it happened at all."

"It was hardly her most shining moment," Miranda admitted. "She's just…well, she's-"

"She's Shepard, Liara," Sydney offered kindly.

"I have heard enough of that, thank you," Liara told her sternly. The lift doors opened on the Crew Deck and she stepped off, immediately making a beeline for the infirmary. Helen met her at the door.

"She's still out," she said as the asari moved past. "Surgery went fine but I'm keeping her off-duty for a little while. I…I'll just be out in the mess if you need me."

Wisely, Miranda and the other two also lingered out in the mess, and when the infirmary doors slid closed, it was only Liara and the unconscious commander sleeping on the nearby bio-bed left within.

Striding over to her side, Liara's gaze softened a little as her fingertips gently touched the bruises on her cheeks, stroking lightly over her black hair before she sighed, lowering her head. Silently drawing a chair over she sat, taking the human woman's limp hand.

Shepard came back to herself in a haze of sedatives and painkillers. Thanks to Chakwas's administrations, the swelling in her face was all but gone, allowing her to open both her eyes as she struggled to focus.

Sensing someone standing near and figuring it was Chakwas, she turned her head…only to blink as the blur was blue in color. Lifting her head a little she squinted, surprised.

"Tianl-"

"Do not call me that," Liara's firm voice banished all doubt of the shape's identity. A couple of more blinks brought her scowl into sharp focus, and Shepard groaned faintly.

"Look, I can explain-"

"Explain? Fist-fighting with Wrex as some pointless display of bravado? Tackling another thresher maw? Oh yes, I cannot wait to hear this explanation! Here I am, worried that you are risking your life against the Collectors when in truth you are risking it over some…some pissing contest!"

Shepard stared, startled not only by Liara's fury but by her actual words. Liara didn't swear, save the occasional 'by the Goddess' which hardly counted. 'Pissing' was fairly mild as colorful metaphors went but it was stark when one considered the asari's normal language use.

"Liara-"

"No! You do not get to speak right now! Was this the urgent news that you just had to leave Hagalaz over? You had to cut our time short because Wrex wanted to call in his bet? A bet that was…simply ludicrous to begin with! And now you are injured, beaten and the Collectors are still out there…and I sit on that big ship, listening in on other people's lives while the woman I care about is-"

She broke off, her emotion getting the better of her. She turned her back on the bio-bed, folding her arms as she struggled to get herself under control again. Moving gingerly, her repaired arm still in a plastic sling, Shepard woozily got up into a sit, reaching out with her good hand and lightly touching the asari's elbow. "Tianlán…"

"If it were me, what would you say, Shepard?" Liara asked softly, only half turning her head. "Were I to risk my life and my well-being to simply 'have it out' with Wrex, what would you be saying?"

"I know…" Shepard murmured softly.

"Please tell me you did not leave me on Hagalaz to do this, Shepard…that I mean that little to you-"

"Of course not!" Shepard said sternly. Catching hold of Liara's arm this time, she turned her to face her. "Liara, I went there because one of Mordin's old colleagues had been taken by the Blood Pack…or so we thought. I went to save a life, which in the end turned out not to need saving. Seems he was there willingly, but we didn't know that. Then Grunt expressed interest in joining clan Urdnot and go through his Rite of Adulthood which…apparently involves fighting a thresher maw. Grunt took the real risks in that fight, it was important for him to be accepted among his own people. I didn't even get hurt and mostly just distracted the damn thing."

Liara's expression softened, but only the tiniest bit. Her blue eyes were still stone as she leveled them at Shepard. "And Wrex…?"

"That…was just stupid, I admit it," Shepard sighed. "I should have waited for a better time-"

"You should not have done it at all! A human being against a thousand year old krogan Warlord? No weapons, no armor…it is a miracle you were not killed!"

"I'm tougher than that, Li," Shepard told her. "And you know perfectly well Wrex wouldn't kill me. I just…needed to do it. Maybe it was stupid bravado or…maybe I was trying to impress Grunt. I don't know."

"Impress…Grunt?" Liara looked surprised.

Shepard shrugged weakly. "He seems to look up to me," she admitted. "I mean, when you think about it, I'm the first person that he saw with his own eyes. Big as he is, he really is just a kid, Liara and…I don't know."

Liara was silent a moment, but her gaze softened further. "And yet you think that you would be a terrible parent," she chided gently, managing a faint smile. "You are already parenting, Shepard."

"Well, being a krogan 'mother' is a pain in the goddamn neck," Shepard smirked, teasing lightly. Still feeling a bit muzzy from the medication she licked her lips with a sigh. "Liara, I fucked up. I did, I admit it. I'm sorry."

Liara glanced aside a moment, before she nodded slightly. "I cannot change who you are, Shepard," she admitted. "I do not even want to try. I just have to accept that sometimes, that means you will be throwing yourself into a fist-fight with a krogan. You would not be the woman that you are otherwise."

She looked back at her, meeting her eyes. "I do hope, however, that now that he's beaten you, this will be completely out of your system-"

Shepard blinked slowly. "Hmm? Oh, he didn't beat me," she said.

"What?"

"He didn't win," Shepard said. "It was a draw, actually. Neither of us won."

"Goddess," Liara lamented, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Can you at least wait for a few years before you attempt a rematch?"

"Of course…" Shepard murmured, then caught her hand, drawing her forward between her knees. Hooking her good arm around the asari's waist, she looked up at her face. "Besides…my plan kind of worked."

She gave a lopsided grin as Liara's brows knit. "Plan?"

"I had one day with you on Hagalaz, right? Well, now I have three whole days off duty and look…here you are on the Normandy…with me."

Liara's look was wryly skeptical. "Do not try and tell me you planned this just to get more time with me, Shepard. I am not that naïve."

"I'll never tell," Del grinned languidly, the hand on Liara's lower back trailing lower still. Liara arched a brow, then firmly caught it and drew it back up again.

"I have a lot of work on Hagalaz," she hedged.

"Feron can do it," Shepard grinned lazily.

"Oh can he? Even if that is true, you are hardly in any shape-"

"I just took on a krogan Warlord," Shepard's grin didn't fade as she teased. "I can do anything."

"You need to rest and heal, Shepard," Liara said firmly.

"C'mon. You're telling me you'll let me sleep all by my lonesome in that great big empty bed?"

Liara smirked, arching her brow again before she turned and strode out of the infirmary. Shepard chuckled and gingerly shifted until she was laying down again, letting out a grunting breath of relief as she finally settled, wincing at the ache that could still be felt, even under the pain meds.

"Ouch."

The sky was dark and sickly gray, roiling with storm clouds. Outside the lane was churned to mud, the heavy downpour having not let up for a full day. Heavy puddles had formed, rippling and splashing amongst swamped out plant-life.

"What are you looking at?" Shrive asked, coming up behind the woman standing in the window and peering over her shoulder.

Eír smiled. "The most wonderful sight I have ever seen," she admitted.

"Really?" Shrive looked again. "All I see is gloomy rain and wet."

"Gloomy rain and wet out of our own front window, at our own colony, at the start of our own lives," Eír pointed out, grinning at her. "I can think of nothing better than that."

"Sun would be nice," Shrive smirked, before lightly kissing her temple. "I honestly do not know how I feel about this colony. It is so cold…"

"It is their cool season," Eír reminded her. "And you are too used to Tuchanka's heat. You will adjust."

"Yeah, maybe. In the mean time I am turning up the heat. Again."

Eír's smile followed Shrive as she went over to the environmental controls to adjust them. The pre-fab was fairly small…only a single bedroom, bath and a tiny living space with a even tinier kitchenette. It was the best they could do until Shrive actually started to work and began bringing home credits. Eír had only begun contemplating what she wanted to do…sitting idly at home while Shrive worked was not a consideration…but Teful had only arranged one job. It would take time for the batarian community to even trust them, let alone for more avenues of work to become available.

As Shrive straightened from the controls, Eír went over and hugged her close, nuzzling under her chin a little. "I know what we can do to keep warm," she teased in a low voice.

"I swear you are insatiable, sweet one," Shrive smiled, holding her close.

"I cannot help it," Eír cooed, nipping slightly at her chin. "I am so happy. Here with you, living how we want, how we choose. I want to be with you for eternity, Shrive. Making a home with you, having wonderful daughters..."

She nuzzled the other woman again, before kissing her softly. "I want to have your daughters," she whispered when the kiss broke.

"There will be plenty of time for that," Shrive told her, rubbing the tip of her nose against Eír's. "There is no rush. A decade, maybe half a century, and we will be well-established, secure…and we will have the most beautiful daughters the asari have ever seen."

Eír giggled with a smile before kissing her again, pressing close and trying to stoke the same fires in her love that she was feeling. There would be time enough for daughters, yes, but for now…she had Shrive all to herself, and she planned to make the most of every moment of it.

A buzz broke the moment, and Eír groaned faintly as she realized it was an incoming communication. Bussing her forehead, Shrive glanced over at the wall display. "It is your brother. You had best take it. There will be time enough for this in a little while."

"He had better have a good reason for calling now," Eír lamented, before reluctantly releasing the other asari and moving over to accept the call.

Being as they were currently just shy of being completely broke, it was not a full holograph system but rather a simple two-dimensional display. Thug's face appeared on the wall and Eír smiled at him.

"Thug, it is good to see you."

"Eír," he stated simply, giving her half a nod. Then, in his typically brusque krogan way he said, "I fought with Shepard."

Shrive turned to look at him even as Eír straightened, stiffening. "You fought her?"

"No," he replied. "I fought with her. We came to Urdnot territory so Buhto could join his support to Urdnot. Shepard was there with a male named Grunt who was presented for his Rite. She was part of his krant, and so was I."

"Why?" Eir said, thinly masked fury breaking in her voice. "Why did you not just k-"

She broke off with a pant, covering her face. Shrive immediately went over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I am all right," Eír murmured, getting herself under control.

"I couldn't fight her, not there," Thug said. "I would have been slaughtered by Urdnot if I had even tried. So I watched, and listened instead. She is a great warrior, Eír. She stood with us against the thresher maw and battled Urdnot Wrex fist to fist. She is more formidable than she looks."

The respect in his voice was clear. Krogan may hate an individual, but so long as that one proved themselves strong, a worthy enemy, they respected them probably more deeply than any other species could hope to understand.

"Grunt recorded her fight against Wrex. He gave me a copy when I asked. I can send it to you."

"Why would you do that?" Shrive wondered.

"For study," he told her. "Eír can see the way she moves, the way she fights-"

"Eír is not going to fight Shepard," Shrive said firmly. "Not ever. We're finding a way to stop the hatred that Gellian implanted in her."

"Oh?" Thug looked at Eír, who nodded.

"Yes," she affirmed. "Shepard has never harmed me, and she has the heart of my own sister, Thug. I do not wish to fight her, and I cannot carry around Mother's rage any more. Liara is finding a way to help me undo this imperative, so that Shrive and I can live normally, so that Liara can be my family without having to worry about me killing her mate."

"I see," Thug hmmed, then shrugged. "Ok. I will keep the recording, just in case. If nothing else, it is a good fight."

As the call ended Eír lowered her head again, rubbing a hand over her face. Feeling Shrive's hand on her shoulder she said, "This has to stop, Shrive…it just has to."

"I know, sweet one," Shrive murmured gently. "I know."

"I see you still have all your parts," Kelly commented as she stopped by the pilot's chair, passing Joker a small data pad with the Engineering report on it.

"Yeah, so far," Joker said. "I'm hoping if I don't leave the helm as long as Liara's onboard, they'll forget I exist."

"You do realize she's going to be here for three days," Kelly pointed out.

"I do. I…haven't quite figured out the bathroom breaks part of my plan yet, but I will."

Kelly smirked, then leaned back on a console, folding her arms. "Well, I hope they don't kill you. The Normandy would be less fun without you around."

"Really?" Joker blinked at her.

"Of course. Who would pipe in Shepard's holographic fights for the betting amusement of the crew?"

"Oh, ha, ha. C'mon. I thought that Shepard told Grunt it was ok-"

"No you did not, Jeff," EDI piped up. "I specifically told you she would not approve."

"Hey, EDI, later we're going to discuss things like 'secrets' and 'discretion' and 'private conversations not involving AIs'," Joker retorted. Kelly laughed, lightly patting him on the shoulder as she straightened and headed back toward the CIC.

"You are too cute, Jeff," she stated as she went.

Joker watched her go, craning around in his seat a bit as he did, before facing forward once more, a silly grin on his face.

"You are blushing, Joker," EDI pointed out.

"Oh, hush you!"

"Forgive me for staring. Do you mind if I sit?"

Sydney was seated in the mess, the remains of dinner spread in front of her, nursing a beer. She was not alone, Wilcher and a few of the other crewmen having gravitated their direction. At the voice coming from her right, she turned her head and lifted a brow at the drell man standing there. She had noticed him a few minutes before, lingering at the entrance of the mess and staring at her with an unblinking intensity.

"No, go right ahead," she said, gesturing at the empty seat opposite her with the neck of her beer bottle.

"Thank you," he said politely, and sat. "You are…Sydney?"

"Sydney Rasler," she nodded, offering her hand over the table. H e took it, giving it a light squeeze before releasing.

"I am Thane Krios."

"So, Thane," Sydney smiled. "Why exactly is it you were staring?"

"A couple of reasons," he told her, then gestured at her arm. "I was intrigued by the artwork on your skin. I had heard humans indulged in such practices but I had not yet seen it. It is very intricate."

"Oh, thanks." She turned her arm a little, regarding her tattoos.

"You are welcome. I hear Jack has similar designs, but she rarely comes up from the cargo hold. I have not yet met her."

"Jack…she's that super-biotic, isn't she?"

"Yes. Her past is…troubled. I think she prefers her own company."

"Hmm," Sydney nodded, then took another sip of her beer. "So, you said you were staring for a couple of reasons. What was the other one?"

"I believe I have seen you before," he stated honestly. "We have never spoken but…I recall your face."

She knit her brows, squinting at him a little. "I…don't remember you."

"It…was on Liberson," he told her. "It would have been about five years ago-"

Sydney's eyes suddenly went wide and she stood up, abruptly enough to knock her chair over with a loud bang. Instantly all eyes were on them, and Wilcher had his hand on his pistol, half rising before he blinked at her in confusion.

"Syd?"

"The sniper on the hill," Sydney hissed.

"Yes," Thane admitted.

"You killed Blumenthal!"

"As I was hired," he said evenly. "You were very talented. Not many could have tracked me through three kilometers of jungle but I barely eluded you."

In a heartbeat the blonde had her sidearm in her hand and aimed at the drell's forehead. Though her target made no move, a few startled cries punctuated several of the Normandy crew reaching for their own weapons, leaping from their seats.

"Whoa, hey!" Wilcher barked, grasping her shoulder. Sydney's look was full of murder, but she did not pull the trigger. After a tense moment, she pulled the pistol back up.

"If we were not on my friend's ship, if you were not part of her crew, you'd be dead drell," she snarled.

"I understand," Thane said calmly. He got to his feet slowly, regarding her. "For what it is worth, I was simply an instrument used by others to achieve their goals. The hatred toward your friend belonged to others, I was simply the means of their wrath. However, I am sorry for the pain that it caused you."

"I don't want to hear your damn excuses," she threatened.

"Understood. I will remain in my quarters during the duration of your stay aboard the ship. I do not wish to cause you discomfort."

He inclined his head again calmly, his polite reserve never once broken, before he turned and strode out of the mess.

Tugging away from Wilcher, Sydney holstered her pistol and walked off toward Armament, more than a dozen eyes watching her go…including a pair by the infirmary door.

"Wilch? What just happened?" Shepard asked, drawing the big ex-marine's attention.

"Seems your drell crewman offed one of Syd's friends a few years back," he told her. "He just up and confessed. She nearly holed him right then and there."

Shepard frowned. "Blumenthal," she whispered with sudden understanding. Turning, still slightly unsteady she headed toward Armament and followed Sydney into the forward batteries. Normally Garrus's haunt, the turian was not present. Sydney had her hands planted on the equipment bank, eyes shut and jaw clenched as she hung her head.

"What is that fucker doing aboard your ship, Del?" she asked, not having to look around to know who had just entered.

"Drell don't think the way we do," Shepard murmured, shifting her arm in its sling as she stood nearby, ducking her head a little to see her friend's face. "He sees himself as an instrument directed by others, no more at fault than a gun is when it is aimed and fired."

"That's a bullshit excuse and you know it!"

"Is it?" Shepard asked. "We're marines, Sydney. Maybe not officially at the moment but they can't dig that out of you, can't remove it once it's there. Say we were ordered to take out a hidden bunker only once we had done so, we realized it was nothing more than a refugee hide-out full of innocents. Would that be our fault? Intels? The Brass? Who do you blame?"

"It's not the same thing! He put those cross-hairs on Carl's skull, Shepard. He knew exactly what he was doing and why? For money? Because Carl stepped on some fucking batarian's toes that had more credits than brains and earned himself a death sentence?"

"Thane did not have to tell you," Shepard pointed out.

"Oh, well that makes it all better, his honesty," Sydney snarled, then straightened. "You know what? I'm going back to the Folly for a while. Wilcher will take me and be back here with the ship in time to get Liara home to Hagalaz. I can't…I can't be on this ship with him here, or one of us is going to die."

As she turned and headed for the door Shepard straightened. "Sydney…"

"It's…it's fine, Shep, I just…I can't be here," she mumbled, making a helpless gesture as she walked away.

Shepard sighed, hanging her head and scrubbing the fingers of her good hand through her hair. "Fuck," she whispered.

She didn't know what Carl Blumenthal had really done to earn that batarian ass Kivik's wrath. Carl was a bit too fond of gambling and had a loose tongue. He might have gotten in debt with Kivik and been unable to pay. Whatever the reason, he'd been gunned down while working with Syd on a simple recon mission. Rasler had chased the assassin through three kilometers of dense, untracked jungle before he managed to escape in a small launch pod. It had more or less marked the end of her career with the Alliance marines. Less than a year later she was gone, vanished completely off the grid for nearly eighteen months before reappearing and starting work as a corsair. She had never told Shepard where she had been or what she'd been doing during that year, and honestly…Del was almost afraid to ask.