OMG, what is this? Two updates, just days apart? What am I thinking?! Don't get used to it...I was bored at work. :)

"Most days it seems that it was just yesterday that I sat out there. Dress blues freshly pressed, shoes shined until I could see my face in them. And butterflies so big waging war in my stomach, it felt like the First Contact War. That day I was the first to officially complete N7 training. That day, I was the first to have made it so far into special operations that I could tell everyone I was a covert agent. After years of hiding in shadows, I'd have it plastered on every uniform, every chest piece.

"That day I was one of four to achieve this recognition. That day, so people tell me, I made history. That day I was just glad I didn't get sick all over those freshly shined shoes.

"This day, the six of you receive that recognition. This day you make history. This day, I give you permission to get sick all you want - just try and avoid me, if you please.

"It's been a long, hard road. Some of you have seen classmates die. All of you have seen them drop to the wayside, most of them never even passing the entrance exam. But you made it. There aren't many of you, and though you wear your designations proudly, most will look right past you. And that will be their last mistake. You are the best of the best. A team of elite soldier culled from elite soldiers.

"I have no doubt that all of you, in your own ways, will change the galaxy. Now, who's hungry?"

The chuckles, that had never really died down even during the most somber parts of Anderson's speech rose up again. There was a shuffling of chairs and murmured conversation as the six graduates, their friends and family, all rose together to shuffle jovially toward the buffet. Hugs were exchanged, handshakes with important generals. And in the corner, eyes plastered on the door, sat Lillith Shepard.

When Anderson had come to her on the Tokyo and told her that the results of her final spec ops training - a month she'd taken off at his insistence- had come in, she had known she had passed. She'd known she had passed before the results had even been tallied. It had been close, that final test, and she'd only been on top by a hair, but she had still been on top. The official, stamped letter that announced that she was now N7, and would be recognized, with those from other classes over the last year, had also included instructions on how to invite family.

She had stared a long time at that. She had no real friends. She and Dr. Chakwas had come to a mutual understanding, and occasionally met to have drink, but that was the closest she got. Anderson, she supposed, she might call a friend if she was hard pressed, but he was the keynote speaker, and her commanding officer to boot.

Her family was dead. Her parents killed so many years ago that there were days when she thought she might forget their faces. And in the process of losing them, she had also lost Clara. She hadn't exchanged more than four words with her since the day of her hearing about Torfan. She sent her a birthday card every year, but the last one had been sent back to her. Clara, now twenty, no longer lived on campus.

She hadn't tried to find her sister's new address. She hadn't seen the point. Clara never sent a reply. She never answered the few calls Lillith had attempted to make. Not that Lillith ever left a message when she called. Except this last time.

She had called the school to get Clara's new address and her number. For all that she had tried to cut ties, Lillith was still her sister's emergency contact, and the information had been handed over with little ceremony. It had taken all her willpower to finally send the invitation. The paper it was printed on reminded Lillith of the letter Clara had received all those years ago. A lifetime ago. Paper unseen in most parts of the galaxy, thick and coarse; the fold lines carefully creased by hand. She had finally forced it into the hands of a clerk on Arcturus when they had docked to resupply, without much hope that her sister would ever receive it, let alone open it.

It had been another week before Lillith had worked up the courage to call. She felt a child again, staring at her omnitool, her sister's number flashing at her. She had told herself, over and over again, that their separation was a good thing. That she was better off not having to worry about her baby sister. And her sister was certainly better off without her. She had known that since she was sixteen and she had so horribly failed her family.

Clara hadn't answered that one either. But after breathing at the recording for a long minute Lillith had finally barked out, "I'd really like it if you could come to my N7 graduation. But I get it if you can't. Love ya, sis.", before quickly ending the call. Clara hadn't called back.

Still, Lillith continued to sit next to the empty seat at her table, Clara's name carefully written in a curling script. So long aboard ship, where everything was an electronic display, and nothing ever handwritten, left Lillith almost unable to read her sister's name. But it was there, and while the other graduates mingled with their families, and exchanged stories, Lillith sat in silence.

It didn't bother her, the way she knew it bothered others. She was used to being alone in a crowd, liked being alone in a crowd.

Though alone, though staring intently at the double door leading into the banquet hall, Lillith certainly didn't look uncomfortable. She didn't feel uncomfortable. She had no desire to socialize, no desire to force her company on those she knew didn't want it. There was a tinge of guilt that she had tried to do that with Clara. That the card, and the phone call had both been too much. Clara wanted her gone from her life. It seemed only right that she give her sister that, when she'd been unable to give her so many other things.

"Commander."

Lillith tuned out the voice.

"Commander."

She wished whoever the woman was trying to get a hold of would just answer her already.

"Command Lillith Shepard are you ignoring me on purpose?"

Lillith turned from the door, and stared blankly at the woman standing in front of her. Her recent promotion, just hours before, hadn't even registered with her yet. The sight of Commander Riley was just as strange. And that the woman who had once led her away from what Shepard had thought was the end of her career to N6 training knew about her new rank - when her dress blues still held only the bars for First Lieutenant - left her even more confused.

Riley slipped into Clara's chair and grinned. "You beat me to it," she said, raising her wine glass.

"I'm sorry?' She'd met this woman all of once. They had shared a shuttle ride to Earth, which, admittedly, had been a very long one, but that was all. Regardless, however, she didn't know her from Eve, and didn't particularly want to.

"N7. Our classmates have been taking bets. You and I...I had the highest odds of beating you to N7. You beat me. Lost me 300 credits in the process too, just so you know."

Brilliant, she was drunk. Shepard wasn't one to turn her nose up at free booze, but she knew her limits and she stuck to them. She never understood why no one else seemed capable of that when they got in crowds.

"I'm sorry?" she said, wondering how best to get away. Or at least get Riley out of her sister's seat. Sure, Clara wasn't showing up, but she didn't particularly want Riley as a table companion either.

"Is it true what they say?" Riley asked, leaning into Lillith personal space. Her breath smelled like expensive wine and cheap scotch. It smelled a bit like vinegar, with a touch of potpourri. It made Lillith's stomach turn.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." She turned back to the door. It was clear Clara wasn't coming, but she'd keep her vigil anyway.

"They say," Riley said, her words slurring, "that you're a good person to go to if someone's looking for company." Riley slid the hand not holding her wine glass along Lillith thigh.

Lillith turned, her nose curling slightly. Sure, she took a few more people to her bed than was generally socially acceptable, but what of it? They were always willing, and it was certainly better than the way certain other crew members handled stress. Bottling it all up inside, saving it for some mythical 'true love' was ridiculous. Sex and love were not synonyms. And sex was safer than a fist fight.

"Are you calling me a whore?" Lillith asked, more amused than angry.

"What? No! I just thought, you know. Maybe we could get out of here. There's an actual bar two floors down. Enlisted, sure, but the atmosphere is better."

"No, thank you." Lillith still hadn't turned to look at Riley again, and the older woman still had her hand on her thigh.

"We can go somewhere private then, somewhere quiet." The hand worked its way higher, Riley tracing the inner seam of Lillith's pants.

Another day, another time, and with a sober partner, Lillith might have been interested. As it was, she had standards, and Riley was much too far gone.

"I'm going to call you a cab," Lillith said, bringing up her omni.

"Don't," Riley whispered, her voice husky, but still smelling of sour booze. She put her wine on the table, and pulled Lillith to her, their lips meeting in a sloppy, drunken, kiss.

Lillith pushed her away, and held her at arms length. "What the hell?"

"You know you want this," Riley whispered, eyes darting quickly around the room before she unsnapped the button of Lillith's pants. Shepard pushed her hands away, almost violently, and redid the button.

"Commander, you are drunk. I'm sorry about the credits, but maybe next time you'll try harder. Now lets get you out of here."

"Only if you come with me," Riley said, leaning heavily against Shepard as the younger woman got to her feet.

"Whatever," Lillith said, noticing that a large part of the room was now looking at them. She smiled at them, and rolled her eyes at the way they blushed and turned away. Let them think what they would. She'd never say no to a sober lay, and Riley certainly wasn't unattractive, but the woman couldn't barely walk on her own. How she'd made it from across the room to come sit beside Shepard, she'd never know. That's what she got for not paying attention to her surroundings, she supposed.

She knew better than that.

As she moved toward the door, she saw Anderson break away from a group of parents and head toward her. The man sometimes had the funniest morals for a career military man. She ignored him, though, and called the first skycab company that her search brought up.

"Blacktop Skycab, what is your location?"

"Um, I need a cab to pick someone up at the Alliance banquet hall...I don't know the address."

"Your name?"

"Lieutenant S- Lieutenant Commander Shepard. The cab isn't for me."

"Omni-number."

"Seriously? How old is your system? That doesn't come up automatically?"

"Your Omni-number ma'am, please."

"51889ALI335. Loo-"

"Thank you, passengers name?"

Lillith rolled her eyes as she settled Riley onto a bench outside. Riley buried her nose in her stomach, and made a sleepy-purring noise in the back of her throat. Shepard closed her eyes, and sighed. Seriously, this woman needed to learn to lay off alcohol, or something.

"Lieutenant Commander Riley, but, you can charge it to the Alliance account. Inebriated officer."

There was a smirk in the operators voice when she spoke again, "Of course ma;'am. Any other passengers?"

"No, just her."

"The cab will be there in about ten minutes, thank you for using Blacktop Skycab."

"Don't you want to know where you're taking her?" Lillith snapped. Apparently, incompetence existed outside Alliance channels as well. She sometimes wondered why the human race had ever crawled out from the depth of the ocean. Or how. In her experience it took three people to come up with an idea, a dozen to vote on it, and a hundred more to come up with reasons why it couldn't be done before a plan was finally scrapped. That humanity had ever made it into space, let alone colonized worlds and made a name for itself in the galactic community never ceased to amaze her.

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"It generally helps to have an idea of where you're going when you pick someone up to take them home, don't you think?"

"Yes. I, yes, what is the address?"

It suddenly dawned on Shepard that she had no idea where Riley was staying. She'd mentioned the bar downstairs, but that didn't mean she was staying at the hotel the banquet hall was attached to. Normally, she'd have sent the cab to her own rooms at Alliance base, ones assigned for the duration of the Tokyo's stay in orbit before Anderson left to look at to look at some top secret project currently station at Arcturus. He'd put off his trip there specifically to speak at this graduation, and he'd only agreed after forcing her to agree to attend. Shepard had every intention of going back there herself at the end of the night, and she wasn't about to try and fend off the drunken Commander a second time.

"Alliance south dorms, the man at the gate will take charge of her."

The south dorms always had at least a few vacant rooms, in Shepard's experience, not that she had much on earth. And, at the very worst, she and Bryson, who she was fairly certain on gate duty tonight, had a history, and he would be able to find Riley a cot in a corner if nothing else.

"Thank you ma'am. The driver is o-" Lillith hung up before the woman could finish speaking. Riley, who she had assumed had fallen asleep leaning against her abdomen, was awake again, but obviously hadn't sobered up any, if the way her hands were trailing over the back of her legs was any indication.

Lillith pulled her hands away, and attempted to get Riley to lay down on the concrete bench. There was a reason she and Riley had been so hotly contested as to who would achieve the honor first - Lillith had been well aware of the bet, and had made over a thousand credits in the pool- and though drunk, Riley put up quite a struggle and almost succeed in wresting herself away from Shepard's grasp.

Shepard had just gotten Riley to stop fighting her by letting the woman lay with her head in her lap, when Anderson stepped out into the landing.

"Shepard," he said, his tone clearly disapproving. He was a stickler about the regs, and had an even dimmer view of people who took advantage of drunk soldiers.

"Sir," she answered, moving Rileys hand from between her thighs, again. Of all the great medical achievements, and no one had ever discovered a pill to make someone instantly sober without damaging side effects. It was disheartening.

"She's not under my command, and I won't stop you, but I do hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm not getting myself into anything, sir," she said as the skycab descended. "Would you mind helping me get her inside?"

Anderson moved slowly, and eyed her critically. He knew her worth, and he knew her reputation. Lillith was sure he was weighing the two as he helped Riley to her feet. He stepped back, waiting for Shepard to climb in after her, and she saw the surprise that flickered almost imperceptibly over his features when she didn't.

She leaned up next to the driver, gave him the Alliance safe driver account information, and told him the address again. He nodded, and she stepped away, watching the car life out of sight.

"Is she an old friend?" Anderson asked once the cab was out of sight.

"I met her once, right after Torfan. But apparently I made her lose a bet today. I figured getting her home was the least I could do."

"No one would have questioned if you went home with her," he said.

"Except you."

"Except me. You've come along way, kid."

"Thank you, sir. I think...I think I'm going to go have a drink downstairs."

"Don't do anything I would Shepard, we leave at 0900 tomorrow."

She nodded, once, briskly, then headed for the elevator. It was at three in the morning, when she stumbled into her room, a young woman, who had at least been relatively sober at the beginning of the night, and looked, at least at first glace, like Riley, on her arm, that she suddenly remembered that she had been waiting for Clara.

And that she had never shown up.