Mali awakened with a yawn; the sunlight streaming in through her widow cast sunspots all over her room. She watched them for a moment, drinking in their golden essence, and then she got up and made her way to the kitchen. A note was stuck to the fridge, the letters curving gracefully across the page; I wish I could write like that, Mali thought. She activated Victoria on her wrist and held it up to the note. "What does that say?" She asked.
"You cannot read, Mali? This is new information that Yane forgot to mention." She said.
"Just read it" Mali said, a little embarrassed.
"Somali, I have gone to work but I will be back around three. Make yourself comfortable, do whatever you like; but nothing dangerous. The third shelf down is all human—ok food, and there is screened milk in the fridge also with some waters, so help yourself. Don't touch any of my prothean artifacts in my office; they are priceless as I spent fifty years of my life digging them up. Your new clothes are sitting on the couch. Have fun! T'soni" She looked at a clock hanging on the wall, it was eleven-thirty; Mali opened the fridge and found the shelf, it was chocked full of different things, almost spilling off the shelf. She grabbed herself the closest equivalents of cereal and milk, and carrying around the bowl, investigated the couch. Her new clothes were folded in neat little squares as promised, mostly beige and white. Balancing the stack of clothes in one hand, and her cereal in the other, she took them both to her room.
Once inside, she looked at each piece of clothing; all were made from sturdy material that could weather hot sand storms and mud and grit on the endless days of a dig. Taking off her pajamas, she inspected her shotgun wound. She carefully unwrapped the gauze around her middle and forced her eyes downward; to her surprise the wound was almost healed, only a red blotch on her skin. She donned a short sleeved white shirt and some dark beige pants that hung loosely around her hips.
She examined herself in a full length mirror in the walk in closet. Between her depressed bouts and running through the muck that was her life, she had little time—or care—to eat—and it was staring to show. Mali had never been fat, but she certainly had never been a model either, there had just been places where the baby fat had never left, but now, it had. Under her skin her bones stuck out in painful view; her face looked haggard and stress lines had formed between her eyes and on her forehead. Her skin was pale and sallow; it had taken on a sickly look. Her eye makeup had all but virtually disappeared but her red streaks and piercings shined out as ever. Her usual sparkling eyes looked tired and had taken on a haunted emptiness that Mali couldn't bear to look at; she turned her face away, but the face she no longer recognized stayed graven in her memory.
So, she thought, I finally look like I feel—dead. For a moment she let herself spiral down into the black void within her; for once not overwhelming her. It was just so huge; so big that she knew that if she ever let herself go she could get lost in it forever. In it there was nothing—no sound, no thoughts, no pain—just emptiness. It scared her more than her anger and hate, because while those could only consume her body and mind, this could potentially overtake her soul as well. It was a curse, but also a blessing; the more she fell into it, the less she felt and the more the world faded into shades of grey. It was almost like drowning, where the fear and terror scare you to death, and you want to get out, but at the same time it appeals to a darker side—to forget the world and just drift in the silence around you forever. To potentially become nothing, just an empty shell, and to know that nothing—nothing could ever hurt her again.
The lights flickering made Mali come to her senses, it jolted her mind to the present; she looked out her window and saw black storm clouds rolling in from the sea. The waves were choppy and dark, Mali heard thunder roar and lightning crack. Strong gales buffeted the house, screaming at the windows and tearing through the tree limbs. Mali looked at the clock, it was already one o'clock! Mali had never experienced a storm this huge before, suddenly a wild urge took ahold of her. She dug through the pile of clothes and found a relatively thick jacket. She pulled out her boots from her backpack and tied them on, then rushed toward the door.
"What are you doing? I am detecting rapid heartbeat increases." Vic asked cautiously; Mali headed for the small stairs to the kitchen, she let a small smile play on her lips.
"I'm tired of all the objectivity in this world Vic. I'm tired of not having any answers, and always feeling like crap. It's time to have a little fun." She pulled up her hood and stepped out onto the landing pad. It was slick with pelting rain and when she stepped out the wind almost knocked her over, clawing its icy fingers at her body. Mali smiled, this was exactly what she needed, a little danger always made things lively.
"This is your idea of fun?" Vic asked. "Humans are very interesting to me, especially you, Mali."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Mali said. She opened up her arms wide to the wind and rain, letting it soak her. Her hood was blown back and her blonde hair came snapping out, whirling and dancing like a current in the wind. She closed her eyes and breathed deep; nothing like a little chaos on the outside to settle the chaos inside, she thought. The clouds had reached over the house by now and where storming thickly overhead. Mali hopped off the platform to the muddy ground and started for the trees.
"In a lightning storm it is not wise for you to walk under trees." Victoria said.
"I'll be fine," Mali responded, unconcerned. "You can just warn me if you pick up any harmful electricity above me."
"The air is full of electricity above you." Victoria answered. Mali imagined that is she had had a face it would be pretty annoyed right now. Shrugging, she continued under the trees and they left the warm glow of light spilling out of the windows behind them. They wandered under the canopy for what seemed like hours, the rain never relenting, the wind never ceasing. They explored until Mali's teeth began to chatter and her lips turned blue, then Vic pulled the plug on their adventure and Mali started back home. According to her, it was three-thirty and she didn't think that that the doctor would be too happy about their excursions. Rubbing her arms, they turned back; the thick clouds above had hastened the night, and it was almost pitch black in the woods.
Mali didn't know what had compelled her into the forest today; but she liked it. For some reason she felt drawn to it, being amongst their old gnarled trunks—even in the middle of a storm—made her feel safe and calm. Maybe it was the scent of the crushed pine and sap, or the stillness and quietness that came with being secluded, Mali didn't know, but she liked it. Growing up in the city, there had always been noise, mostly of violence, but noise all the same; in the woods it was different—peaceful. Rainwater mixed with a tinge ocean spray dribbled onto her lip; they were getting close.
She was completely soaked to the bone her coat and pants were plastered against her body and her socks were bloated with water and squished with every step. Her hair was plastered to her scalp and Mali didn't even want to think about untangling it. As she neared the fringe of the forest that surround the slight clearing around the house, voices barely audible whispered over the crashing waves. Years of having people trying to hurt her had taught her to never go against what her instincts told her; and they said these people were not solicitors. She crouched down and edged forward, peeking over an earthen mound.
Inside the house, the lights were dim and flickering, she could see the shadows of men along the walls. What were they doing here? Mali thought. Whatever it was they weren't doing it out of the goodness of their hearts, that she was sure of. Their hover car was idling next to the house, ready for a quick getaway; but that was something that wouldn't happen if she had anything to say about it. She remembered the doctor's note: … Don't touch any of my prothean artifacts in my office; they are priceless...she didn't want them to steal those, least of all ransack the house and steal her stuff as well. No, it just wasn't going to happen.
She unlaced her boots and set them and her socks off to the side; they would only make noise and give her away. No longer cold, Mali tiptoed across the wide expanse, trying to blend and move with the shadows, thankful for the storm and darkness. Carefully, she crept up the steps to the landing pad, and then down she went, into the fray.
The hall leading into the house was dark and cold; the wind whistled through it, the old door at the end swung back and forth on its hinges. Mali gulped and slowly opened the door, not making a sound; she peeked her head in, low to the ground. One man stood in the kitchen, rifling through the fridge, two more were poking around in the living room; all had assault rifles on their backs. "Hey, be careful with that asari food, its poison you know." One of the men warned Hungry at the fridge. All wore black clothes and masks, so it was hard to tell them apart, but this man's voice sounded like sandpaper scratching on wood.
"I know, but theirs gotta be somthin' in here. Asari are a hospitable people, they would never like to be caught unawares by a human guest." He rummaged for a few more seconds and then pulled out a small metal case. He pried the top open and then whooped with triumph. "Spaghetti and meatballs!" he popped it into some type of heater, as Mali could tell, and then it came out steaming hot. He brought it to the table and all the men gathered around it, smelling the white curling vapor.
"This is so much better than the ship gruel!" Sandpaper said. All three of their backs were turned away from her, it was time to strike. Mali crouched and made her way across the kitchen floor, till she was stooped behind the counter that separated her from them. She silently pulled a kitchen knife from the wood knife holder, its hilt heavy in her hand. Despite what her compatriots at the Green Dragon thought, Mali new more ways to fight then boxing. That had just been the first step in her hand to hand combat training by Yane; so without further adue, she gathered her strength and sprang over the counter top, letting out a startling cry. She leapt onto Sandpaper man and knocked him out cold with the hilt of the heavy knife. By this time Hungry and the other masked vigilante had recovered from their initial shock and were fumbling for their guns.
Mali took and twisted the strap of Hungry's gun, chocking him and making him stumble between her and the last man just in time. The man raised his gun and fired, and Hungry shook as the bullets hissed into his flesh, then fell limp. Mali lunged at the last man, but stomping feet came from the bedroom's hallway, making her turn at the last second and dive behind a couch. A hail of bullets swept where she had just been, pocketing the wall behind her with small craters. Four men came running out from the dark hallway, shouting. There were four more? She probably hadn't thought this through properly, she thought. Thinking back, she realized she hadn't thought at all; one of Yane's many critics came into her head at that moment: "Mali, one of your worst habits is charging in like a boar without a second thought. Learn to be the snake that watches and waits to make that perfect strike." He pulled her up from her butt where he had knocked her and smiled, then said "Try again, only this time be more subtle."
She shook herself back to the present, but she knew she was facing impossible odds. They had spread out, surrounding her enclosed position and were advancing. In a desperate move Mali pushed the couch away from her, in to the oncoming traffic. Two were knocked over, and Mali leaped over and into the dark hallway behind them, to her room; Yane's pistol was in her backpack. She barricaded herself into her room and pulled the gun from the bag and slung the rest on to her back.
Bullet holes riddled the wood door as they forced their way through, but Mali was ready. Two quick shots in succession took both her attackers out of the equation. Now she only had two left to deal with; she walked into living room only to find not two but five men waiting. Two had been called by the gunshots form inside, and Sandpaper had awakened from his nap. All five grinned at her and pointed their weapons at her. How many could that tiny hover car hold? She thought, disbelievingly. She tried but failed to make for the landing pad door but two grabbed her before she could go anywhere. "You are a hard fish to catch." Sandpaper shook his masked head in wonder.
"What do you want me for?" Mali asked as they tied her hands behind her back. One of the men look at her pistol admiringly, then tucked it into his waistband. Then smiled leeringly at her.
"I think I'll keep this," he said, "after all, we wouldn't want the baby to get hurt playing with this thing." He said mockingly. The men around her laughed; at that moment she felt very exposed and vulnerable. One put a gag in her mouth, it tasted like engine oil and the chemical fumes wafting off it made her eyes sting and water. "Oh, the baby's crying." Someone joked. The men all laughed again; Mali felt real fear creep down her spine—she was helpless.
"Let's get out of here, the boss is getting impatient." Sandpaper said. One hoisted Mali over his shoulder and they climbed up and out, into the freezing rain and wind. Mali's already soaked clothes got a fresh round of paint, and her teeth started chattering like a chipmunk. They carefully made their way down the platform steps to the ground—but not carefully enough. The man carrying her slipped on the rain soaked steps and the side of Mali's head was bashed against the edge of the platform; tears fell from her eyes as her world turned red and her head pulsed with pain. She was dropped and rolled down the steps, till she landed face first into the mud at the bottom. She turned herself over and a groan escaped through her oily gag.
Her body began to shake with fear and cold, spaseming however it wanted. Salty tears mixed with the raindrops hitting her face, she curled up in the mud; she saw dark liquid mixed in with the puddle water. Blood. Her blood. The men recovered from the temporary chaos of the slip and someone picked her up again, Mali hung limply now, the fight gone out of her and her head splitting with pain. The driver got in along with three of the men, then she was lowered to her feet and was about to be pushed in when a voice called out through the darkness.
"STOP!" It commanded. The men spun in surprise, Mali did a teeter-totter dance as she lost their support. The blurry outline of a woman stepping out of the trees caught Mali's attention. Through the rain Mali saw the familiar blue skin of the doctor, she tried to warn the peaceful asari to run, but all that came out through the rag was grunts. "Let her go!" T'soni commanded, her usual soft voice sharper than a sword. Mali couldn't believe this was the same woman who had taken and sewn her clothes and then given them to Mali the night before. The two men leered at the unarmed woman; casting suggestive glances at her. Mali stumbled toward them, intent on protecting Dr. T'soni from her own mistakes. She raised her voice, trying to warn her again, but the gag inhibited her from doing much good.
The wind whipped at her clothes and rain droplets fell from her crests, but she was as calm and resigned as a statue. "I will only ask one more time." She said. The men smirked at each other and advanced toward the doctor.
"We are going to have us a little fun, if you don't mind." One said, they circled her like two sharks. "You're pretty—for an asari." The men laughed. The doctor did not move, she watched Mali. She was stumbling towards them, getting further and further from the hover car. By this time some of the other men inside had come back out to see what was the problem, they stood idle by, watching with interest, they knew Mali wouldn't get far tied up. Mali's brain screamed pain into her nervous system, but she did not listen. The doctor seemed to be waiting for something, but Mali didn't know what. Finally all the men came out of the hover car to see what was the hold-up; that's when she struck.
Blue fire spread across her entire frame as she swung both her arms open wide. The two men near her shot up into the air, crashed together in the stormy sky, and then fell back to Earth, groaning with pain; it happened so fast that Mali almost missed it. The asari dove for her as the other men opened fire on them; she rolled past her and held her arm out, palm facing outward as if trying to push the bullets away. Mali close her eyes, waiting for them to hit—but they didn't. She opened them and saw a bluish-purple shimmering force between them and the attackers. The bullets bounced off it and were sprayed in other directions. The asari smiled over her shoulder, Mali's eyes were as huge as saucers.
T'soni switched into the offensive and raised the hover car into the air, shredding it to pieces. It exploded with bright flames and the doctor let it fall onto the screaming men below. The pieces fell like falling stars, bright tails of fire trailing behind the pieces of shrapnel. The asari didn't stay to watch; "Hurry Somali, we need to get to the hover car. They'll be after us once that clears. They have another one of their own." She said. They both took off toward the forest, the asari supporting the dazed Mali, leading them a short distance into the trees.
She brought her to a small clearing that Mali hadn't seen before, the doctor's hover car gleaming in the rain and cracks of lightning above. The doctor opened the doors and they climbed in; she lifted them off and out without a moments delay. She skimmed low and fast over the trees, her forehead knotted in concentration. Mali leaned back in her seat, trying to get comfortable with her hands tied behind her back as they were. For a while, the asari looked for signs of pursuit but after ten minutes of no sign she began to relax. "Are you ok?" She asked.
Mali grunted through her gag, trying to reply. T'soni leaned over and cut her bonds with her omni-blade. Mali pulled the gag from her mouth and situated herself more comfortably. Truth to be told she was a little shaken up from the encounter. It wasn't the first time she had dealt with men hitting on her but it was the first time she had been helpless; and the way she had just given up at the end, feeling like there was nothing she could do—it scared her; but she didn't want the asari to know that. "Yes." Mali lied, answering her question.
"What were they doing there?" The doctor asked. In the windshield the glow of the city's lights could be barely seen through the rain and clouds. Her grip on the wheel had relaxed some and she wasn't siting up as straight in her chair now that the danger had passed.
"I don't know." Mali said. "I went walking and when I came back they were in the house." Too late did she realize her mistake.
"You were walking in that lightning storm?!" The asari exclaimed. Mali didn't know what to say—she stumbled over her reply.
"Well—I—uh just felt like it." She said lamely.
"Where you raised in a box?" The asari shouted, "Don't you know storms are dangerous?" Mali's temper got the better of her, she knew the asari was only looking out for her, but she wasn't her mom.
"You don't know anything about me! Don't pretend that you do, because you don't. I always have a reason for doing something, even if I don't understand it myself!" She crossed her arms, "besides, I didn't get hurt." She finished.
"But you could've," the asari wouldn't let it go. "That's what I'm concerned about. I don't like how you have as little regard for your life as you do for your socks." She said.
"What I do with my life is my own problem." Mali grumbled and slouched in her chair, turning away and looking out the window at the rain. They rode the rest of the way in silence, the air outside the cabin crackling with electricity. Dr. T'soni guided the hover car through the deserted streets till she landed it inside an apartment complex. It was very tall, getting out, Mali could look down at the tiny streetlamps below and get dizzy. They battled the wind and rain till they got into an elevator, and then the asari pressed the key for the fifteenth floor. Both of them dripped water until there was a small puddle at their feet; for the first time the asari noticed Mali was barefoot.
"Where are we going?" Mali asked before she could ask anything about her missing shoes.
"I have a friend here; we will be able to sleep safely at her apartment tonight." Mali didn't say anything but the asari could sense the doubt still within. She wondered what cruel life this girl had led to make her so distrustful of others. The elevator opened and they walked out into a bright marble hallway. Bright lights lit the way in the sparsely furnished passageway. They walked part way down and then Dr. T'soni knocked on a big whitish cream door. After a pause, a human woman in a bathrobe and towel opened it up; taking in there bedraggled appearances, especially Mali's.
"Ashley." Doctor T'soni's voice was warm. "I'm sorry to impose, but can we come in?"
"Of course!" She said, shaking her head out of the shock. "Come in, come in!" She motioned them in and then the door shut behind them. Inside the walls were a cream, like the outside, with a slightly golden hue. They were standing in a living room that housed a big couch and table, with a bar against one wall, next to a door leading to a balcony. To the left was a kitchen, and to the right was a hallway which Mali assumed led to a bedroom. "What happened to you?" She said, running to the kitchen to fix them something to eat. She slapped out some bread and started making sandwiches. Mali followed the doctors lead and they both saddled up to a counter.
"I left early from the office today, then came home to find my house being under attack and Somali almost kidnapped. We need a place to stay until I know that it is safe." Liara T'soni said. She turned to Mali, "Somali this is N7 Officer and Spectre Ashley Williams, she is in charge of the weapons mechanic's classes at the academy. And Ashley, this is Somali, a guest at my house." The doctor introduced them.
"Nice to meet you." Mali said. The woman standing before her looked to be about thirty years old, with dark brown eyes and pale pink lips. She had let her towel fall off her head, and her dark, shoulder length hair had tumbled down in a rats nest kind of way.
"How could I forget her? The way she barged into the board meeting like that!" Ashley teased, slapping some mayonnaise onto the bread. The doctor saw Mali scowl and instinctively gripped her wrist before she could say anything back. Mali looked surprised down at her captive hand, then up at the asari; T'soni shook her head no her eyes daring Mali to disobey her. Ashley missed all of this as she finished their sandwiches, and then handed them to them. "Meat and cheese," She said, "hope no one's vegetarian." She smirked.
"Thank you." The asari said, and then looked expectantly at Mali.
"Thanks." She said—grudgingly. Ashley exchanged looks with the asari, who shrugged. Ashley walked around the counter and into her bathroom across the hall from her bedroom; Mail heard a blow-dryer turn on. Mali's heart was still beating fast, she could feel a knot growing on the side of her head where it had bashed into the landing pad. She tenderly reached up and touched it with the tip of her finger and winced as pain spiked through her head. Mali cringed and grit her teeth, setting her half-eaten sandwich down; she wasn't hungry anyway. Rain pelted the windows and it was pitch black outside—it was barely four-thirty. Ashley came back into the kitchen, her hair now dry and fluffy, hanging in small waves down to her shoulders. Dr. T'soni got up from the stool she had been sitting on and looked at both of them.
"I must go back to my house." She said. Both Mali and Williams looked at her in surprise.
"Why? It could be dangerous!" Ashley said. Mali stayed silent, she had nothing to say—and frankly—she was feeling bad because she knew that it was her fault the woman's house was wrecked, and probably flooded with rain water by now.
"Those men were wounded, they won't be there anymore. I have to make sure things are alright there." She turned to Mali. "You will be safe here with Ashley while I am gone."
"Wait, Hold up! You think you are going alone?" Ashley said, disbelievingly. "I'm coming with you Liara." She said. The doctor gave Mali a reassuring smile.
"Mali, why don't you go take a shower, I'm sure it would be fine. I'll be back before you're even done." She said. Mali could tell when she was wanted out of the conversation, so she went back in and walked into the bathroom. She started the shower, like Dr. T'soni had shown her, by pressing the on button. She turned the temperature nob and steam came pouring out of the triangle showerhead above. She undressed then stepped one foot into the shower, but a sudden urge made her stop. She turned back around, and ever so quietly opened the door till it was a tiny crack. Hushed voices carried softly down the hall, barely a whisper above the pouring water.
"I know, I know…but why?" Ashely asked.
"I have to make sure all my research is safe, all my artifacts." Liara T'soni replied.
"You would risk your life for some dug up junk?" Ashley said, disbelieving.
"I have before." The asari replied. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but that dug up junk has been my livelihood for sixty years and it saved our butts during the reaper wars. If there are rumors about a new reaper, we might need it. Besides, I can't just abandon it." She said.
"What am I supposed to do with the kid?" Ashley asked.
"She is tired and wounded, she won't be much of a problem unless you get on her bad side, just read her some Tennyson." The asari snickered.
"It's not funny; there is no rule that I can't enjoy some poetry." Ashley's voice took on a defensive tone, as if she was used to defending herself against this particular topic.
"Be careful with her though," the asari's voice became serious again—and quieter. Mali strained to hear her last words as she opened the door to leave. "I can sense turmoil inside her—lots of it. She is unstable right now; I can feel it."
"You and your Yoda senses." Ashley joked, but then became serious again. "You know, us humans sometimes need to keep things secret. If you go digging through there you might not like what you find." She said.
"It's more serious than that," the asari replied, "I have never felt more hurt come from a person before." Their voices faded as they moved to the hall and the door closed behind them. Mali turned away and shut her door, steam was swirling and ghosting about the room; it clung to her skin and dampened her hair. She stepped into the circular shower and the glass door slid closed and tinted so no one could see inside.
Hot water cascaded down her shoulders and mud clogged the drain under her feet. During the drive over the mud that had been caked into her hair had dried and had now made it nearly impossible; but she lathered up with fruit smelling conditioner and worked at the knots anyway. After all of those had been untangled she washed her hair of the conditioner and added shampoo, then conditioner again. By now the steam had coted everything outside in the bathroom with a thin layer of condensed mist; the room looked like a fog bank had rolled in. Mali groaned as the hot water loosened her aching muscles, and she sat down on the floor for a time just enjoying the feeling of being clean.
She heard the front door open and close and then Ashley poked her head into the bathroom; Mali could see her dark silhouette through the tinted glass. "Hey." She said softly. "Just came to get your clothes." She came in and picked them up, than exited. Mali hung her head; the asari had said she was unstable. Of course she was, she didn't even know what stable meant anymore. Right now it felt like her entire life was one bag of trash jumbling down a cold metal chute to the end in the dumpster. Yane, I miss you, Mali thought. She picked herself up and finished soaping and rinsing her body. She stepped out shivered in the clammy air; the showerhead turned off automatically, leaving sudden silence.
Where her dirty clothes had been were now clean white ones, a thin shirt and pants, and a light sweater and a pair of underwear. After toweling dry she pulled them on and wrung and combed out her lank hair, and then she left the bathroom, throwing the damp towel in the dirties bin on the way out. Stepping out was like traveling from a humid tropical forest to Antarctica in one step. The air outside was cold and swirling, making her clothes stick to her still damp skin. The balcony doors were swinging back and forth as the storm invaded the apartment; on either side her cream colored curtains whipped and snapped. Ashley came running out from her bedroom at the same time Mali rushed to close the doors. Both strained against the wind on opposite doors but alone they couldn't battle against the wind and win. Mali let go of her door and rushed to Ashley's and working together they fought against the wind and closed it, then the other. Ashley locked the doors in place, and then wrapped a long towel around the handles for extra support.
They both collapsed to the couch exhausted, both faces obscured by wind whipped hair. Mali pushed it away from her face and looked at the rats nest on top of Ashley's; then they both broke out laughing. It shook Mali's belly in a pleasant way, and a charming warmth spread through her chest, releasing some of the pent up tension; it felt good. "Are you hungry again?" Ashley asked once their mirth had subsided. Mali's stomach grumbled but she didn't want to be a bother.
"No." She said. Ashley lifted an eyebrow, a comical look on her face.
"I've never met a teenage girl who isn't hungry, trust me, I know. I have four sisters." She answered and got up. Walking into the kitchen she began to make Mali some dinner.
"You have four sisters?" Mali asked in awe, trying to imagine such a feat. "How did you all live together?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
"Quite nicely in fact." She answered. "My dad was always away so it was up to me and my mom to bring them up. I guess we all just got really close." She said. She came back with a plate full of hot food; Mali dug in with splendor. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten something so good.
"What is this?" She asked between mouthfuls.
"My mom's grilled chicken recipe always does the trick." She said, smiling, then Ashley leaned back and picked up a worn book, the binding and pages almost falling out. She crossed her legs and snuggled into the couch's plushness; "tell me," she inquired as she thumbed through the pages, "have you ever read poetry?" Mali shook her head, her mouth full of food. "Well," Ashley looked at her with a small smile, "hearing poetry being read is a whole different experience." She opened to a passage and kept it there, her eyes closed for a second. Mali watched her curiously, she had never seen someone so excited to read a book before.
"The day is cold, and dark, and dreary. It rains and the wind is never weary: the vine still clings to the mouldering wall, but at every gust the dead leaves fall, and the day is dark and dreary." Ashley's voice took on a soft cadence as she travelled across the lines. The day is cold and dreary, Mali thought as she looked outside at the pounding rain; Ashley continued. "My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; it rains, and the wind is never weary; my thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, but the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, and the days are dark and dreary." Mali leaned her head back on the couch, no longer hungry, her plate balanced on her lap; involuntarily her eyes closed with Ashley's hypnotic voice. Ashley peeked up from her tome and smiled, barely a pause in her reading. "Be still, sad heart! And cease repining; behind the clouds is the sun still shining; thy fate is the common fate of all, into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and dreary."
After Ashley stopped reading silence ensued; only the sound of the drumming rain could be heard. Mali's whole body had relaxed, her mind was set at ease. How only written words had done this to her she did not know but she liked it. "That was beautiful," Mali said quietly, "who wrote it?"
"Henry Wadsworth Longfellow." Ashley answered.
"That is a strange name." Mali replied, her eyes stilled closed, her voice soft and thoughtful.
"It was a common name back then." She answered.
"Can you read another one?" Mali asked—timid yet hopeful. Ashley flipped a couple pages forward till she saw one she liked, then started again.
"Tell me not, in mournful numbers, life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal…" Mali let the words run over her; catch her up in their beat and flow. They were sweet like honey and caressed her ears like the finest silk; she had never known such peace. She fell into a sort of hypnotic state; listening to the never ending stream of words. They filled her mind with pictures and fantastic dreams; not all of what Ashley read did she understand, but it filled her with calmness she had never experienced before.
She didn't know how long she laid there, but soon she felt the pull of sleep droop her eyelids. Soon she was breathing evenly and deeply, a peaceful expression on her face. Ashley put the book down and watched her sleep. Mali looked so innocent, lying there unconscious, all her worries escaped for a while. Ashley got up and took her now cold plate and walked into the kitchen; as she scraped off the remains of Mali's dinner into the burner she heard the front door open and then close. Liara walked into the living room, shedding her rain slick coat on the floor. She carried three bags; one was a long duffle that was thrown against her back, and then there were two backpacks full of what Ashley guessed were clothes. She sat the bags down and shed her boots making a water puddle on the floor, then she came over.
Liara looked down for a moment on the sleeping Mali, and then came and sat down at the counter facing Ashley. "I knew your poetry would do the trick, she's sleeping like a baby." Liara smiled at her.
"How'd it go?" Ashley asked; she deposited the dirty plate and fork into the sink and then leaned against the counter next to Liara, who grimaced.
"My house was flooded, but luckily nothing was damaged; I'll have to pay a fortune for the carpets and furniture. More importantly I got a notification from Admiral Dickens that said he wanted to see Mali in the morning, I can't imagine what for since he made her eat her words back at the council room." She gave a good natured smile, and looked over her shoulder where she could just see the top of Mali's blonde head peeking over the couch. "Why does she have so many enemies? I can't imagine how such a small girl could attract so much attention in such a vast universe." She shook her head, "I've only been with her a week and twice I've have to save her life. Sometimes she reminds me of the commander in that way—he always had someone shooting at him." They both chuckled in remembrance.
"Those were the good old days," Ashley reminisced "I wish we would have known that back then." She chuckled and smiled, "but we were too busy busting up reapers and trying not to get ourselves killed to notice." They both smiled at each other, and then Liara yawned.
"We should retire, we've both had long days." Ashley nodded agreement. Going to a hallway closet she pulled out sheets and thick blankets. She indicated the couch Mali was sleeping on, "That's a pull-out." She said. Liara raised her eyebrow; Ashley chuckled in good humor but a slight blush crept into her cheeks.
"Sometimes old mates from my Alliance days need a place to bunk." She said, sheepishly. She set the blankets down on the coffee table and started removing cushions from the couch. "Pick her up will you?" She nodded her head at Mali, "I can't get this thing up without her off it." Liara placed one arm underneath Mali's armpits and the other behind her knees and picked her up, still sleeping. As she waited for Ashley to situate the bed she tried to not feel the warmth of the extra body she was holding, or the hot pulse of breath on her neck. A pang of longing clutched her heart. Liara tried to ignore her feelings; she gulped down—hard. Once upon a time she had thought that maybe—someday—she might've had a chance to…she clamped her thoughts down before they led her somewhere that she did not want to go.
She set the snoring Mali down on one side of the bed and tucked a pillow under her head, then hugged Ashley in thanks. "I don't know what I would have done without you." Liara appeased.
"Don't mention it, it's what friends do. Goodnight." Ashley answered and then left Liara to her own thoughts. She sat down on the side of the bed that was unoccupied and wearily tugged at her socks—not really trying. Mali was stirring feelings in her that she had buried deep inside, and wasn't too keen on reliving again at the moment, but the pain and longing came anyway. Liara had once dreamed of having a family: a husband and daughters—but that dream had walked out the door a long time ago, along with the man. A few years later she had almost come close, but it hadn't pulled through. If only, she wished. Sighing, she leaned back on her pillow and folded her hands behind her head, staring at a small smudge on the ceiling—absorbed. She listened to the faint breathing beside her for what seemed like an eternity until her exhaustion claimed her.