Update notes: Something old, something new 😊 Enjoy.
The title is subject to change – just couldn't come up with anything better right now and I wanted to get the chapter out to you.

.

Take and hold this hand
What you feel inside
Is another dream
Want you give me a part?
Let me say you're truly raspy
but I'm living to discover your soul

Just try to be yourself
Try to destroy all what you feel inside

You've got to be strong
Live in an harder way
Now

And I know you're scared about the life that comes
(Look in the mirror the fear is a part of you)

Stronger and strong
I'll help you to choose the way
Can't you let me go
away

Lacuna Coil – No need to explain

Chapter 22 ~ Scars

I woke to the dark of the cabin from way too many uneasy dreams.

For a moment my senses struggled with the unfamiliar input. No drive core humming. All night lights positioned wrong. Soft, bouncy mattress underneath my belly. Instead of gun oil and scorched metal, I smelled clean sheets and laundry agent. That's right. Not the Main Battery. Because my field bed there was occupied otherwise. Again.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, stretching my neck and shoulders. I should have probably opted for the armchair instead. What had I've been thinking? Those human beds were awful. Especially when empty.

Yet, when we returned from Sur'Kesh Shepard had showed up to chat – then fell asleep more or less midsentence. And as much appeal staying in the Main Battery had held, between Menae, the attack on the outpost, Victus' extraction, the summit and Sur'Kesh, it had been a much too long day to sleep hunched over on a crate until my back got numb and cramped – at least not as long as there were some excellent and empty quarters waiting two decks up.

"Lights, please."

Dim yellowish light bathed the cabin. I rubbed my face and blinked against the illumination. Then fished for my omni tool and my visor on the nightstand, surprised that I was actually out for a full four hours.

Still stretching, I took the time to catalogue my surroundings. I simply had been too tired last night for any profound observations. Despite what the excessive retrofit might have suggested, the Alliance clearly hadn't felt like indulging the ship's captain any further aside from throwing out anything that had a Cerberus logo attached. Which was just as well. I had some really… fond memories of that couch.

Still, from here the quarters seemed pretty much unused; aside from two equipment crates pushed against the couch table. The lower, second desk sat clinically empty and I could definitely tell that Shepard hadn't slept in her own bed so far. I really had to talk some sense into her. Part of her coping mechanisms or not, pushing herself to the limit like that was about as reasonable as putting fire out with gasoline.

I shook my head and stood up; collected my clothes, then padded up the stairs. I eyed the bath cabin. Ah, why not? Shepard certainly wouldn't mind, even if the bath and the upper desk were evidently the only parts of her quarters she'd been using.

Inside, I leaned over the sink and splashed my face, the cool water washing off any remaining sleepiness. I angled for the closest towel. When I glanced up from the blue fabric, a broken face stared back at me. I grimaced. I had come to… avoid looking at mirrors too closely, especially during my recent stay on Palaven. I turned my head, the merciless light exposing every sad detail. I rubbed at the uneven scar tissue, following the outline of my cheekbone down to the frayed mandible, seeking for the faint sensation the Doctor had managed to preserve.

Could have been worse. You could be dead.

Right. There was that. I dropped my fingers with a sigh.

It was a strange kind of irony. Among my own, an injury like that made you stand out and not in an exactly flattering way. With Shepard, though, there was so much difference between our physiologies to begin with, so much that was alien, that something as mundane as scars actually became common ground instead. I looked back at the mirror. Tried to see beyond the disfiguring wounds and at what the little human Spectre might saw.

You bested the odds and survived.

That I did.

So, you do know how to melt a girl's heart?

That I did, too. Well, at least this girl's.

There will be the day when one of us won't return… and it scares me.

That was okay. It scared me, too.

I stared at my reflection for another long moment. And maybe, maybe deep down I didn't mind the scars as much as I once had. Mh-hmm. There probably was something deeply unhealthy in the way we gravitated towards each other as well.

I got dressed and exited the bath cabin; feeling rested and a bit elated. I swiped up the four empty mugs on Shepard's desk and took the elevator down.

I stepped into the still empty Crew deck and steered towards the dimly lit Mess. Behind the galley, I put the mugs in the dishwasher and rummaged through the cabinets for my box of tea. I found it in the last one on the right, together with an assortment of cans, MRE and a cardboard on which someone had scribbled with a black marker LEVO! in trade tongue, human script and crooked turian glyphs. Heart-warmingly nice that no matter which Crew boarded the Normandy, they were always making an effort to accommodate the aliens.

I flipped on the water kettle and leaned against the counter, enjoying the peace. It was one of the many tiny differences I had come to really appreciate during my time on the Normandy. On a turian ship the Mess would have been filled by now with at least half a dozen crew members bustling about and preparing for their shift.

Human sleep cycles were different though; and even though I've learned that many of their soldiers were trained to grab sleep whenever possible, their biorhythm dictated them to take preferably one uninterrupted period of rest, instead of bolstering a shorter night's sleep with several naps throughout the day.

Their shifts were usually organized to accommodate their natural cycle as well. Which left me with those few blissful hours of tranquility, where the majority of the Crew was still asleep and those working the night mostly on the CIC deck.

The boiling water pinged and I poured it over the tea. The rich and spicy aroma of the dried leaves and roasted chocra shells filled the air. I had just stirred in a spoonful of syrup when the soft sliding sound of a door made me look up.

My first instinctive thought was Victus, but the freshly appointed Primarch was loath to leave the war room except for the barest necessity, lest he might miss out on some tiny snippet of intel. The man probably would have pissed in a bottle if could have gotten away with it. As a result so was Wrex. I really didn't envy the Crew members who had to work between their silent threats and not so sublime air of animosity and distrust.

Someone stepped out of the Med Bay. It was Mordin.

The tall salarian – plague healer, seashell collector, retried STG operative, genophage expert, interspecies counsellor, take your pick – spotted me and steered towards the Mess, an eager spring in his step. Right. That one seemed to need even less sleep than your average salarian.

"Good morning, Garrus," he greeted in his clipped way of speaking. "Had a good rest?"

I inclined my head. "I'm all fine, Professor. But how's your patient?"

"Surprisingly well under circumstances. Mental resilience remarkable. Determined, martial, yet wise. Also called Wrex troglodyte when he kept bringing up his mating prerogatives. Ah, galactic community definitely needs more krogan like Eve."

"Eve?"

"Krogan shed their names when becoming shamans. Eve, supposedly first woman in human mythology. Seemed appropriate metaphor."

"It certainly has a nice ring to it. You want some tea?" I was not crazy enough to offer the already hyperactive professor the suicidal brew the night shift had left sitting on the coffee stove.

"Please."

I tapped my visor awake and went through the cabinet.

"Alright, we have something that is probably… fruit? Though I'm not quite sure what kind of fruit can come out of raspy straw." I shifted the boxes. "There's some assorted herbs and colored tea; green, white or black. Oh, and something that translates as tea tea."

"Oh yes, remember tea tea from last time. Was tasty."

"Tea tea, it is." I pulled out the box and smelled at it. "Intense."

I poured a second cup and pushed it towards him.

"Thank you." The old salarian paused. "Garrus. Wanted to offer sympathies." A twitch of his hands. A deep inhale. "Also, sincere apology. Was not able to help as I should have. Work on Genophage already started. Too consuming. Not enough time. Could not…" He blinked and dropped his scarred head, staring into his cup. "Not many years left – too much to atone for."

"I understand. It always comes down to this in the end, doesn't it? The life of many outweighing the life of few." I heaved a sigh. "Don't worry, the Hierarchy sees that we all get that catch phrase drilled in in abundance. Without the krogan, we have about an icicles chance in a furnace against the Reapers. We need them, no matter what. And they deserve the cure."

He glanced up. "Admitted, not reaction I expected."

I took a sip of my tea and nodded. "Professor, we're both aware that at this point only a miracle would have saved my mother and maybe not even that. I've known for a long time that this day would come and I've made my peace with it. What counts is that you made her treatment at Helos possible in the first place. It bought her time, and enough lucid moments to find closure. For all of us. Thanks to that she was able to depart on her very own terms. In peace and with dignity. Exactly like she wanted to. This means more to me than I can ever repay." I cleared my throat. "Besides, The Opera by the Sea? You know that's probably the worst thing ever to make it off Palaven." My mother had loved the ghastly operetta with a passion, much to all our ordeal.

The salarian coughed. "Apologies, but doctor-patient confidentiality sacred. Can neither deny nor confirm any knowledge of Teltalus' aria."

I stifled a chuckle. "Of course."

"Reminds me – have something for you." He pushed away from the counter "I'll be right back."

A few moments later he returned from the Med Bay and set a small pouch of black cloth before me. I untied the strings and unfolded the fabric. Inside was a silvery pendant in form of three ornamented and interlaced rings.

I looked up, stunned. "How did you…"

His alien face lit up with a pleased smile, the lines of an eventful life etched deeply into his brownish skin. "Was missed by nurse packing up belongings. Knew from Wrex that Normandy would come for pick up. Your presence seemed likely and if not… assumed you would agree with the Commander as intermediate care taker."

I brushed over the matted platinum and a weight I hadn't even known existed lifted from my mind. "Yes. Yes, I absolutely would have. Thank you."

~V~

Gulping for air, I rolled off the turian.

For a moment just lay there on my back, waiting for my pounding heart to slow and the air to cool my heated skin. The adrenaline in me ebbed and I listened to Garrus catch his breath was well, while enjoying the deep relaxation only physical exhaustion could give.

I was sweaty, my muscles ached, and I felt fantastic.

And maybe more than a little guilty. When we returned from Sur'Kesh it had technically been night according to the Normandy's shift cycle. A lot had happened since leaving Mars some 50 hours ago; so much that even my Cerberus enhanced body finally decided to rebel against the abuse. I really hadn't planned on violating turian's personal space again. It was just… He had seemed awfully silent on the shuttle ride back and I had merely wanted to know if he was alright without sitting on that goddamn crate. I swear, I had rested my eyes only for a freaking second.

When I woke wrapped in his blankets some eight hours later, we were not only straight on our way to Tuchanka, but I had also missed the start of my shift on the bridge, forcing Adams as my XO to deal with Victus and Wrex and all their drama. Oy. Apparently, Dr. Chakwas had enforced that I was not to be disturbed by the threat of bloody violence.

And you are a total jerk and keep avoiding her. But guess what, Kaidan was her friend, too.

I really didn't deserve her.

I suppressed a sigh and turned my head to watch the turian sniper who was still lying on his side like a slug. At least he had been in a much better mood when I staggered out of the Main Battery an hour or so ago and found him hunkered over a datapad in the Mess. He quipped about me and my rumpled face. I gave him some sass. Which he reflected with embarrassing ease. Then I had some coffee and a bowl of breakfast porridge that suspiciously tasted as if some Doctor had spiked it with something to boost my regeneration – screw you, Mordin – and somehow we ended up here.

"Ready for another round, Commander V?"

Garrus blinked at me. Slowly. "What is wrong with you?"

With laced fingers I straightened my arms over my head and stretched out my back. "Nothing. I'm just rested."

The former man of law and order groaned.

"Hey, what happened to your perfectly fine endurance? I find it hard believe that this is all you've got," I exclaimed and pushed myself off the mat and into a sitting position to retie my damp hair. I gave him a pointed look. "Are you sure you were even trying to make an effort?" I let my voice drop a few notes. "Or… did you just wait for me to lay you? Again?"

A dangerous, slightly unnerving light crept into his gaze. "Still trying to make me blush, huh?"

His mandibles flexed and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a wolfish grin. Even through his loose-fitting shirt and casual pants I could see his muscles tense, all strength coiled up.

I moved, rather through instinct than in reaction. I rolled to the right, barely escaping the turian jumping at me with a C-Sec hold in waiting.

I leaped to my feet and managed to retreat a full three steps towards the middle of the hangar, before the sniper once more came for me all claws, fists and bared teeth. I blocked a vicious hook with my arm and countered with a rapid series of punches. Of which none really scored. Despite his previous laments, his reflexes were still ungodly fast. Or maybe the months in Vancouver just had spoiled me rotten.

I danced out of his immediate range, sweet anticipation flooding my system. I had really really missed our sparing sessions. I let my cover slip a bit. The feint was obvious. I knew he still would be unable to resist. For the fracture of a second Garrus hesitated. Then he went for the opening. I twisted to the left and my bare right foot slammed into his hard muscled abdomen in a classical roundhouse kick.

His breath whooshed out with a soft whistle and in the moment of contact I realized he had let me score on purpose. Oh God, Miranda truly had brought back an idiot. Before I had the chance to disengage, Garrus grabbed my calf.

"Hey, that was almost too easy. Are you… even trying to make an effort?"

There was way too much smugness in his tone. Wherever his thoughts went, it likely included me hoping around on one foot like an imbecile. This would do wonders for my stellar rep. I wiggled against his grip. Yup. Like being stuck in a bear trap.

Gathering as much momentum as possible, I pushed off the mat and tackled the turian with my knees and good ol' flexibility. My knuckles kissed his jaw and he grunted, releasing my calf to repay the favor with a punch to my side that would by tomorrow turn into a bruise the size of a pizza. On some suicidal level I was delighted that Garrus wasn't holding back for the squidgy human any longer. On the other… ouch.

I clenched my teeth to keep the groan inside, my feet finally finding ground. I spun to the side, but Garrus still caught me. Grabbing me from behind, his arms went around my chest pinning mine to my sides. Bloody reach indeed. I snarled and he chuckled.

"Mh-hmm," he mumbled and warm breath tickled my neck. Adrenaline spiked. A flash of desire shot through me and tugged at my inner thighs, rigorously overriding any remaining pain. "Feisty. I like it."

Between jutting bones and protruding ridges, I felt a distinct hardness against my butt. The two sex fiends in my head cheered, wasting no time to load my mind with their ideas for an encore. All too aware of his arms just below my breasts, I rolled my hips. In a blink his hold shifted from a combat move into something else entirely.

I threw back my head, hitting him straight on the flat nose. He cursed and the hold on me loosened. I snatched his right arm and wrenched it into a shoulder lock, slowly forcing him down on the mat.

"Feisty? Do you have a death wish, Vakarian?"

"You tell me," he replied in all smooth turian stoicism, completely unimpressed that he was lying shoulder-locked on his belly, my knee poking into his spine. "You're the expert, Shepard."

Har har. My lips curled up. I leaned forward, dipped under his pointy fringe, and dragged my teeth across the exposed back of his head. A low rumble built up in his chest; demand and plea all rolled into one sexy growl.

Tiebreaker? Oh yeah, lemme show you some tiebreaker, Archangel.

"Ey, Lola! Can the two of you tone it down a notch? Some people do want to work out in here!"

Uhm, yes. There was that. Cheeks warming, I turned my head to the marine straining the pull-up bar no twenty paces away.

"You call that workout, Vega?" I shouted back. "You're geriatric, or what? Come on, Soldier, bring it! No pain, no gain! When the tough gets going, the going gets tough! No – HEY!"

Something pinched my bottom. Hard. I released a very undignified yelp and Garrus bucked below me. For a fraction of a second nothing happened – and then I sailed through the air. I landed on my back and the turian's full weight descended on me, pressing the air off my lungs. I tried to throw him off but couldn't get enough leverage. Arrg, dammit. Instead, he grabbed my hands, long fingers wrapping around my wrists and pinning them to the mat.

His laugh was low and husky. "What was that? That sounded almost like–"

"Thin ice, Vakarian. Very thin," I hissed through my teeth, my voice strained.

"Sure. And what exactly are you going to do about –"

I lifted my head and gave the underside of his jaw a long lick. He drew in a shivering breath, his fingers flexing on my wrists.

The sound of a cleared throat made me wince. What was wrong with those people? Couldn't they just… move along? Nothing to see and all?

"May I have a word with you, Commander Shepard?"

My face flushed crimson. Victus. Oh, for fuck's...

"– and this is why in hand-to-hand combat you should never underestimate the way human joints can bend," I heard myself say, while frantically shoving the turian off, and yep, aloud it sounded just as absurd as inside my head.

"Ah-ha. Dangerous flexibility. I'll keep it in mind, Commander," Garrus replied with thinly veiled amusement.

Still hanging on to the pull-up bar, Vega was making little suffocated noises, his whole body shaking. I shot the Latino a withering look. He should have combusted right on the spot but noooo…

I scrambled to my feet, to find the Primarch watching the spectacle with a disdainful expression. My respectability tipped its hat at me, then shoved a shotgun in its mouth and pulled the trigger. Great. Fantastic.

I stomped into my sneakers, grabbed a towel, and motioned for Victus to follow me to the other side of the hangar. I dried my face on the towel and leaned against the Kodiak, looking at the Primarch. Hands clasped behind his back, he seemed troubled. Not good.

The silence stretched. What was he waiting for? I wrecked my brain for the many interspecies warm-ups I had attended during my service but somehow the lessons never covered dealing with a scandalized Primarch. Figures. I decided to sit this one out.

At the other side of the hangar, Garrus and Vega had gone from exercising to arguing about one of the assault rifles the Alliance had stocked the ship's armory with.

Victus gaze followed them. With a shake of his head, he suddenly sighed, losing some of his rigid stance. "Regrettable."

"Primarch?"

"The best recruit in his recon unit. Highest marksman score at 2500 paces ever recorded within Blackwatch; two medals of valor; possible tier 26 candidate if not for those rebellious fits of his."

The Primarch turned away from the scene on the other side of the hangar, his face an unreadable mask.

"I wonder what's worse – that we were incapable of keeping one of our finest soldiers or that in all those years Vakarian spent on the Citadel, neither C-Sec nor his own father even bothered to recognize the potential they had right under their noses."

My eyes narrowed. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you should know that it's one of our best who has a high opinion of you and your abilities."

"Aha. Let me guess; it's an opinion the Hierarchy doesn't exactly share."

He shrugged, as if to tell me that it wasn't him making the rules. He was respectful enough not to insult me on my own ship, but damn me, if he wasn't poking around just for the hell of it.

"They don't; and if these were normal times, I'd also tell you that, personally, I consider his viewpoint rather… biased."

Translation: you fucked him dumb and unreliable.

Awesome.

I arched my scarred brow at him. "These aren't normal times. Lucky me."

He chuckled without any mirth. "No. I'm afraid they're not. That's why I hope you'll prove me how wrong I am instead." The Primarch resumed to watch the proceedings on the other side. "I don't think we can win this war by any conventional means. I'm not happy about the course you've taken with the Dalatrass, but in contrast to her I see the necessity. If we're unable to overcome even our most primitive prejudices, then we're already as good as defeated. We need the krogans. And anything that threatens this alliance is a threat to everything you claim to be fighting for. Correct?"

Arrg, I knew it! After the debacle with the Dalatrass I had expected tons of troubles on Sur'Kesh, but no critical verbal derailments, no livers removed through anyone's rectum, no death squad jumping us from behind. The lack of drama had been almost disappointing. How nice of the universe to redress that slip immediately.

"I see. You have a strange way of asking for help, Primarch."

He faced me once more. "Commander, please. I don't expect you to understand our ways; after all you're human."

By the way, how did they always manage to make it sound rather like an insult than a state of fact? The great mysteries indeed.

Then Victus added in a lower voice, "But I promise you, if we can't solve this situation, you will have another war you don't need on your hands on top of the invasion."

I rubbed my temple. Boy, was I growing tired of this bullshit bingo.

"Alright then. What do you need me to do?"

.~'*'~.

Two hours later I sat at my desk with another coffee and two tons of reports, while thinking about a clever way – no wait, scratch that; any way, no matter how desperate or hopelessly insane – to sneak into the Kelphic Valley. Without Wrex and two billion krogans stomping our fragile alliance into the ground while screaming for bloody vengeance that is.

Planting a planetary bomb on Tuchanka. Centuries ago, or not, I could have punched every turian in the teeth just by principle.

I didn't even know what riled me more: that Victus was coordinating covert missions from my ship behind my back or that I only learned of it because they botched it so royally that they needed my help to fix their clusterfuck. For a moment I had really been tempted to come clean with Wrex and watch the spectacular fallout from a distance. The expression on Victus' face would have certainly warmed my rotten heart for years to come. But alas, there was still too much goody-two-shoes Commander Shepard in me to douse this mighty bridge with napalm and set it on fire.

So, I rather kept lying to my krogan friend instead. Yah. Maybe I could apologize to him on my way down to burn in hell.

With a sigh I picked up Mordin's report. At least the cure was coming along. Final-fucking-ly something that went according to schedule.

Next was Anderson's last report. They had become increasingly vague with locations and numbers. A precaution; nobody knew exactly if and how far the Reapers had managed to tap into our communication systems. Even so it was clear that the situation back on Earth was nothing but devastating. I had Anderson on the radio just before landing on Sur'Kesh and he had once again reassured me that we still had time, that Earth would endure, and yet... Difficult to keep up faith, when this small voice whispered in the back of your head that we were already fucked six ways to Sunday.

I took a gulp from my cold coffee. No. I would NOT chase down that particular rabbit hole. Because hey, the good news was that our all survival depended on ancient blueprints of an enigmatic machine with unknown functions. Thehehehe. My forehead started hitting the desk with small repetitive motions.

"Are you feeling well, Shepard?" EDI suddenly asked over the comm.

I lifted my head. "You tell me."

"Vital data normal. Your blood pressure and cortisol level are slightly increased but within the expected range considering the current situation."

"See? As peachy as it gets."

"You might want to know that Officer Vakarian has inquired after your status as well. He believes you might need some diversion. Shall I patch him through?"

"No!" I winced at my own vehemence. I just couldn't help it. I wanted him here and at the same time see him on his way to the other end of galaxy. Both for the same shitty little reasons. "I mean, not right now. Maybe later and –"

The swoosh of the door made me break off and turn in my chair.

Liara's soft voice filtered into room. "Can you spare a moment for me?"

"Sure." I switched off the terminal.

I stood up and motioned the asari in, then got down the stairs and dropped onto the couch.

"What can I do for you?"

Liara hesitated, then chose to sit down beside me to my left, her white uniform sliding softly against the brown and white leather of the couch.

"We… hadn't the chance to talk so far."

"True." I hadn't just avoided the Doc. I'd avoided all of them. Damn. I really was an asshole. "I'm sorry. There's just so much to do. So much to plan…"

The asari nodded, yet her black-rimmed blue eyes called out bullshit. "I understand. I don't think I had even one moment for myself since Hagalaz," Liara said, her features hardening at the memory of killing the original Shadow Broker then taking over the role along with his vast network. She had indeed aged those past years. No. Matured.

"Things were so much easier when we merely had to chase down a rogue Spectre, huh?"

She chuckled. "That is also true. Though I can remember some situations… uhg…"

The smile froze on my lips. Of course, those were also the days when I had left Ashley behind to die.

I'm sorry, Ash. Turns out I failed you both in the end…

"Liara," I said, quickly, before I got dragged any further down memory lane. "About that prothean device… Do you really think it will do us any good?"

She was silent for a moment, her bottomless asari eyes gazing at a place beyond me. Then she returned and said, "Yes. Yes, I absolutely believe it will. It's more than what's in the blueprints. Building this device gives the people what they need the most: hope. And as long as there is hope, we might also still have a chance."

I leaned back into the cushions, looking at the ceiling.

Hope.

Automatically my fingers slipped underneath the folded blanket to my right. Brushing over the damaged leather the Alliance hadn't felt like fixing. Lost. So lost.

"Hope. Yeah. I like that thought…" I mumbled.

We sat in a comfortable silence. Until –

"Shepard, I can imagine that things must seem very bleak for you these days…"

Li, you have no freaking idea.

I said nothing. Inhaled. Exhaled. Fought the terrible sting in my eyes. Exhaled again. Leaned forward. Lost the battle as a tiny tear slipped out and ran down my cheek. Godfuckingdammit. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes. Dammit Kaidan. You were supposed to be here with us. Fabric rustled. A careful hand touched my shoulder. I stifled a sob, my voice small and raspy. "He was the oldest friend I had left…" Because everybody else had died on me, too.

"I know…"

"Maybe you should leave. People around me have the unpleasant habit to turn up dead eventually." I snuffled and lifted my head to squint at her.

"That's nonsense, Shepard."

I gave her a weak smile. "You always say the nicest things."

She pulled her hand back and gave me an unexpected hug instead. I hugged her back. She picked up again, her melodious voice soft. "'And so Athame spoke: no night can be so dark as to diminish the stars, for the darker the night –'"

"'– the brighter the light of the stars.'" I finished the sermon, almost choking on my own bitterness. Much better than… the other. With a final squeeze I let go and rocked back to look at her. "But where, Liara? Where is the fucking light in watching the people and everything we care about die?"

She paused for an unexpected long time, her gaze drifting once more to an unseen world.

"As an asari I feel… different about death. We grieve and treasure our memories like everyone else and yet… no matter if we bury a friend, child, mother or lover, rather sooner than later we're ready to move on. For some it's proof, we're incapable of caring. Or of love. They are wrong. They don't understand that we're confronted with death as a matter of fact from an early age on, especially when dealing with the other council races. Which is why, with our life span, our hearts are inevitably built to hold many loves. But that's not all of it. The melding ensures that we'll carry a piece of those we have loved and lost in us forever." She shifted in her seat. "Sharing memories mostly works along the same lines. Not as strong, sure, but similar. So when you showed me the beacon's vision, a piece of you... stayed with me."

"Oh. I… I hadn't known. I'm sorry, I guess?" Boy, nobody deserved to be on the receiving end of that kind of crazy.

The corner of her blue lips curled up. "Don't. It's a gift, I was and will ever be, grateful for. After what happened to the the SR-1... It helped me through those dark days, knowing that in some way you would always be with me. More than you might imagine."

"Didn't you just say you asari handle these things rather well?"

"We do. I never said the process is painless, though."

Yeah, trading barbs with the information broker numero uno. Silly me.

"I remember the day when the surviving crew returned to the Citadel. An Alliance patrol had picked them up."

I nodded. "Must have been the SSV Trafalgar. They used to keep an eye on Omega."

"I assume. The docking bay was in chaos. Reporters and bystanders everywhere. I saw Jeff from a distance but couldn't get through the masses. He looked devastated… and that moment I just knew you hadn't made it. There was a lot of grief that day. And in the days that followed. Everybody stayed on the Citadel the few weeks until the ceremony, and after that…"

She took a deep breath.

"I'm ashamed to admit that it all just kind of fell apart afterwards. Wrex and Tali went home. I booked transit to Illium. Kaidan and the rest of the surviving Crew got reassigned. Garrus stayed and went back to C-Sec. We lost track of each other."

"So you all moved on." Unbidden the memories flashed. However irrational, I was unable to keep the bitter note of rejection from creeping in. "Can hardly blame anyone for jumping off the crazy train."

Her gaze focused on me once more. "That's the operative point, Shepard. Not everyone. The first anniversary, I came back and… it was strange.. There I stood, selfishly glad that I carried this piece of you, and yet I was unable to fathom why it was so hard for him to let you go. Maybe I should have… I don't know. Would it have lifted his burden, or only worsened the pain? I didn't have that much experience with non-asari to know for sure. In any way, I had expected Kaidan to struggle, but him? It's not how their culture is wired and even less how the Hierarchy trains its soldiers."

She stopped to give me a warm, beautiful smile.

"But I do understand now. Our times are certainly dark, but there still is light; we sometimes just have to look for it in unexpected places."

You find peace in whatever arms will hold you...

"Like in the arms of a turian, huh?"

Still smiling, she inclined her head. "Like in the arms of a turian." Then she added. "Shepard, please. Don't let the dark around us consume you. We have so many more battles ahead of us. So much more to lose. And everything to win. Do not deny yourself this tiny piece of happiness, just because..."

"… it might hurt me in the end?"

"Yes."

"I'll try. I promise."

.~'*'~.

The dumb bomb got tampered with.

I could have screamed.

It had all went so smooth until now; Mordin had scheduled to plague Wrex the whole afternoon with some treatment and I had taken EDI out on the pretense that we wanted to test the capabilities of her new shiny body against Tuchanka's hazardous fauna, with James as our backup. Leaving with Garrus would have probably been too suspicious with the Primarch already itchy about his son and I needed Liara and her biotics on the ship in case someone did lose it.

And now we had to disarm the goddamn bomb in a fucking hurry since Cerberus had rigged the detonator, and this stupid last clamp got stuck thanks to Tuchanka's corroding atmosphere and we had no time for this shit at all because the countdown was on and Cerberus troops were all over our asses, and they've brought mechs and Atlas.

Better and better.

I evaded another rocket with a dive for a collapsed column to the left. To my right two Carnifex sang in perfect duet. At least EDI was getting some hell of practice.

I threw a biotic sphere against the first of the two Atlas. It exploded with a beautiful boom. Garrus would have loved this. Tarquin Victus released a string of curses into my comm, of which my translator caught only half of it. Though, I thought he said something about how he would piss on the graves of each and every Cerberus agent and on the graves of their ancestors, in the hopes that their spirits would raise again so he could piss on them, too. With communication usually about 90 percent trade tongue und 10 percent whatever our translators threw in, you inevitably developed some interpretation skills.

"This isn't working!" Victus hissed into my ear. "I'll try to go through the servos. Cover me!"

I spared a glance over my shoulder, watching how the turian some 40 meters above me climbed over the ledge of the platform. Dammit!

"Shepard," EDI's voice filtered in, the second Atlas exploding to the cheers of Vega. "If he forces the clamp open from there, it will tip over and break."

"I know!" I shouted in exasperation and emptied the rest of my clip into the head of a Cerberus Centurion. Burn that turian honor!

"Victus! Wait! We can –"

Metal screeched.

His voice was a soft rasp in my ear. "Victory. At any cost."

I hurled around. With another nauseating crunch the clamp gave way. Gravity won. Permanently.

The bomb dropped.

Victus fell.

I stretched out my hand, called upon my biotics – there was nothing I could do. Fuck. Had I only taken Liara…

No. Had you only come clean with Wrex…

The roar of the explosion threw me to the ground. Harmless to that what the bomb would have done if still fully armed. I rolled through the gravel, spitting out dust, just in time to see another Cerberus shuttle closing in.

I pushed myself up and switched to the shotgun I had salvaged from Vega's stock. More Cerberus soldiers with jetpacks jumped out of the shuttle. We were outnumbered at least 4 to 1.

That was okay. I could back it up with lots and lots of anger.

.~'*'~.

I strode into the war room, still covered in dust; still mad as hell.

"The job is done."

The primarch looked up from the console. "Where is my son?"

I drew a breath so I wouldn't yell. "He sacrificed himself to see the mission through."

His formerly rigid posture slumped. "I… I understand."

"I'm sorry, Primarch. But you should know that he never hesitated. He kept that bomb from killing all of us down there."

"Bomb?" Wrex rumbled from the door. "What bomb, Shepard?"

"The turians planted a bomb in the Kelphic Valley at the end of the Rebellions. Cerberus was about to detain it and –"

Wrex roared. "How dare you, turian scum!" He jumped down the stairs and advanced.

"Are you threatening me, filthy krogan?" Victus hissed, falling into a fighting stance.

I slammed my biotically charged fist on the console between them, leaving an ugly dent. "STOP THIS! The Reapers are closing in on us, and you want to slash at each other? Are you kidding me? Do you really want to make this war even easier for them? Wrex, his son died to ensure that nobody gets to use the bomb against you. And it was planted centuries ago! Victus, do not insult our ally and my friend on my ship or I swear, I'm going to maroon you on the next best fuel station. Deal with this like the fucking responsible leaders you both are!"

I took a breath and pushed away from the console.

"Now, excuse me, I have to check how we can schedule the detour to Utukku and do something about your scouts, Wrex. Oh, and the Dalatrass called – she wants me to sabotage the cure behind everybody's back. I told her to fuck off. Just so you know, I'm so done with those shitty little maneuvers. All of yours."

I stalked off.

"Is she for real?" I heard the Primarch ask slowly.

The door closed behind Wrex' broad laughter.