Lord of Tuchanka

To Liara's dismay, Hannah and Messalina simply shook each other's hands before letting go. When Hannah left, Messalina threw Liara a scathing look.

"Oh, that's so charming, Liara." She made a face before tossing the flowers at the Asari. Liara settled the flowers in to a vase as if nothing had happened.

"Well, I'm glad I was able to smoothen things a bit." Liara petted the sunflowers down until they spread out evenly around the brim.

"Sunflowers," Messalina scoffed. "That's her sole memory of my likes and dislikes."

"They're pretty." Liara shrugged as she took a seat on the bed again, pushing Shepard a bit to make room. She picked up Hannah's coffee and tasted it a bit before wincing and letting it down. "An acquired taste?"

"Like pretty much everything in life." Messalina poured the contents of Hannah's mug into her own.

"I think Doctor Chakwas told me that you drank too much of that…. Tea."

"Doctor Chakwas," Messalina arched her eyebrows. "keeps brandy in her drawers. She's not the person to tell me what I should or should not take."

"Says the Spectre who has mother issues."

"As if you don't."

Liara ignored her. There was something she wanted to talk about, and she hoped that she had humored Messalina enough for the bad news.

"Garrus dropped by an hour ago."

"Oh?" Messalina was surprised. "Why didn't he come in?"

Liara was hesitant, turning away from Shepard as she looked out at the Presidium.

"He's gone, hasn't he?"

- May, 2183

Vakarian's visor had frozen in place, giving out a soft glow to tell its master that the target was at point blank range with no winds or significant humidity to compensate for. If the visor had a soul it would have wondered why the master did not satisfy its blood lust. But the master's beat slowed in synchrony with the MSV Fedele's low thrumming engines, and Garrus Vakarian's pupils tightened in relaxation.

"The authorities will come and pick you up." Vakarian sighed.

"Wuss." Wrex coughed. Messalina shot Wrex a scathing glare that made the quadricentennial eight hundred pound Krogan seem to fidget.

But Doctor Saleon/Heart seemed to have a different idea, flashing out a pistol from his holster with a hiss. Garrus stood by watching, with folded arms as Saleon fired a few rounds, missing him entirely. Messalina knew that Garrus was upset. He was asking her bluntly, what the point was. Messalina sighed and put a round between Saleon's eyes.

"Happy?" Garrus asked before walking out of the room.

"I'm not." Wrex grumbled as he poked the Doctor with his foot before unloading a spray of pellets into his chest. "Okay, I'm good."

Messalina and Wrex entered the now empty hallways of the Fedele, which reeked of decomposing organic body parts. Blood spatters were everywhere and some tissue residue eventually clung maliciously to her boots.

"Turians." Wrex scoffed. "I think they're born with an exoskeleton up their ass."

Garrus had already stalked out the port to the Normandy. Messalina folded her beloved Mantis up and hitched it back onto her back.

"He's sorting things out, Wrex."

"I have four hundred years' worth of personal problems, Shepard." Wrex complained. "You don't see me whining about it."

"That's because you're a big boy", she joked.

"You'd think he'd have gotten over that stupid little daddy issue by now." Wrex callously blew open a locker, and shuffled through the contents, tossing equipment at Messalina to sort out. Messalina began melting them into omnigel before packaging them up for later use.

"Maybe he should take a page out of your book and just go kill the old man." Messalina scowled in sarcasm.

Wrex seemed to be considering it for a minute. "Good Idea. I'll pass that along."

Wrex moved on to another locker, aiming to burst it open. Messalina held him back and patiently hacked the lock.

"You're trigger happy, Wrex."

"Shepard," Wrex grumbled. "When you love your gun, you want it to sing."

Messalina began to sort through the various stocks of weapon mods; Wrex idly leaned on the locker, toying with his shotgun.

"The problem with Vakarian is that he takes himself too seriously." Wrex began twirling his shotgun. "He thinks that tracking down this quack will make a difference in this universe. That maybe his old man will think better of him because he pulled it off. Next thing you'll know he'll be trying to single handedly take down every pirate in the Terminus system."

"Don't be preposterous." Messalina switched off her omnitool as she got up.

"You're encouraging him."

"No I'm not." She argued. "I tried to show him that there are due processes at work in the universe."

"And then you did a head shot."

"Couldn't have Saleon shoot Garrus." Messalina shrugged.

"Garrus needs to get shot once in a while. In the face! Ha!" Wrex laughed heartily. "Maybe then he'd understand why it's stupid to chase every criminal you get your claws on."

- July, 2185

Wrex remained on his throne as he leered down at Garrus.

"I like how you did your face, Vakarian."

Despite his chambers being entirely built of rubble, the towering Krogan had managed to arraign it so as to make it the most impressive throne of rubble she had ever seen. Hulking Krogans, larger than the usual small brew that hired out for money off world, vigilantly stood watch over Wrex's person, jealously guarding her friend as if she would steal him away from them. It was a fascinating turn of events. Wrex had remained on the Citadel to receive honors for their part in the battle with Sovereign, but had been frustrated as everyone seemed to ignore him. The Councilors had generally regarded him as a mercenary hired-hand that Shepard used for extra muscle. No one seemed interested in Virmire or what Wrex had sacrificed to have that victory. After an angry brawl that had trashed poor Chora's den one final time, effectively shutting down the place, Wrex had disappeared.

Now, here he was, imposing, confident and at home. Shepard had wondered if he would still see her as a friend. Her attempts to contact him had ended poorly, with him apologizing that he had matters more urgent than hunting Geth at hand. Gratefully, Wrex had jumped off his throne immediately embracing her when she made her appearance, but made point to return to his high seat.

"Well I'm glad it didn't make me as ugly as you." Garrus replied without missing a beat.

"No point in asking Shepard's opinion since she prefers women." Wrex laughed. "So, what brings you to my neck of the woods? I don't think you came to see me."

The last note ended in an accusatory note, which Messalina felt obliged to explain, but Grunt stepped forward to present himself.

"I have a Krogan on my crew. He has some kind of sickness and needs medical attention."

Wrex, amused, immediately turned to peer at Grunt. He sniffed the air around Grunt, letting out a faint chuckle.

"Where are you from, Whelp?" Wrex obviously seemed a bit miffed at Shepard. Messalina could understand that Grunt would obviously seem like his replacement. But Wrex was, what would in human terms, be considered a Prince of the Krogans. Questioning Grunt of his lineage meant that Wrex saw Grunt as much inferior in heritage. Grunt, never one to back down, retorted proudly.

"I was tank bred by Warlord Okeer. My line distilled from Kredak, Moro, Shiagur. I am pure Krogan. You should be in awe."

But Wrex was sly if nothing else. Messalina had only once seen him blow the gasket, and that was on Virmire with the cure for the genophage almost palpable. A reprobate youngster was no match for him.

Wrex jumped off his seat and walked around Grunt, studying him.

"Okeer," Wrex juggled the name in his memory. "is a very old name. A hated name."

"He is dead."

"Of course," Wrex smiled viciously. "You're with Shepard. How can he be alive?"

Messalina swept the wry remark aside. "What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing wrong." Wrex returned to his seat. "He's coming of age."

"Adolescence?" Garrus sighed. "Can't we just take him to Omega and buy him a few drinks?"

"You should take Garrus and buy HIM a few drinks." Wrex guffawed.

Garrus chaperoned Grunt aside as Messalina took a moment to talk to Wrex. Wrex continued to snicker at Garrus as he walked away. Garrus had seemed fueled by some weird sense of duty toward Grunt to make him see his path. Perhaps it was the C-sec in him working out again. She had seen him like this whenever he had encountered a lost soul. Back on the Citadel, when they were tracking Kolyat, Garrus had been more than pleased to help Thane out.

"You'd think I'd be the one with the over bloated sense of inheritance." Wrex seemed to have read her thoughts.

"Men," Messalina sighed. "Always keeping with some false sense that their father owes them something to hand down."

"Try rebuilding a civilization, Shepard." Wrex grunted. "You'll see its benefits."

"Really? And your women agree with your little set up here as well?"

"They were the first ones who suggested it." Wrex shrugged.

"That doesn't mean what they're sacrificing is fair."

Wrex coughed. "Who said anything about fair? Fairness doesn't come into play here, Shepard. What happened on Tuchanka is not a picture of fairness. It's what's necessary for the survival of our race. And females and males both have their roles to play out. I'd be the first one to admit it is an arbitrary role, but you can't force the whole Krogan race to suddenly divorce with tradition over night."

Messalina sat down at the foot of Wrex's throne, tired and frustrated. Garrus, Thane, and the entire unfulfilled fathers of Tuchanka bristled with men trying to uplift their children, and children in revolt to their fathers; a child he refused his father's method of justice, a father who wished to bequeath his son his sense of honor, and a race that failed to procreate. Messalina felt surgically removed from the cycle of life, disconnected at a bleeding stump from the sense of procreation and legacy.

Wrex, awkward at having Shepard at his feet, crawled down to sit beside her on the open rubble.

"Still sticking out for your crew like they're your family, Shepard?" Wrex tossed a rock at a stray pyjak; Missed.

The troupe that she had been gathering, Thane, Jack, Mordin, Grunt, all seemed more distant and difficult to approach than her mild mannered crew scattered among the Galaxy. Liara's frigidness, Garrus keeping her at arm's length, and the ugly encounter with Ash on Horizon made her feel more alone than when she suffocated off the skies of Alchera.

"I missed you Wrex."

Wrex chuckled. "Sorry, Princess. I have too many females waiting for me. Get in line."

"When I woke up from death… it was confusing."

"Because you woke up from death, Shepard. That CAN be confusing."

"Learning that everyone was gone, and time had flown by, leaving me behind in ashes."

Wrex crumpled his brow, almost wanting to say something, refraining.

"I had a lot of children, Shepard." Wrex threw a rock, hitting a pyjak this time. "Fifteen of them. All dead. Stillborn and crippled in the womb. This barren rock, the air we breathe, it withers us away, leaves our females like a desert. Still Krogans flock to Tuchanka like a cursed pilgrimage. We return to our deserts hoping that maybe we'll get lucky, have a child. Sovereign called life an accident. I'm here to tell him that it isn't."

Messalina drew circles in the sand that gathered at her feet.

"I don't begrudge you for Virmire, Shepard." Wrex sniffed. "I don't think you begrudge me because I can't join you now. We all make choices, live with them, plow through the galaxy with our will. You know what to do." Wrex got up, raising a cloud of dust. "You may think that you were rebuilt, but to me you were never dead. You don't need a new purpose, just pick up where you left off. Your crew will follow you."

"How can you tell?" Messalina got up, slightly less tired.

"I predicted Garrus would have his face blasted off, didn't I?" Wrex laughed.