***Please note this will be the last chapter being uploaded to FFN.*** This site has been buggy for months now, and it makes no sense for me to continue using it. If you would like to continue reading Taproot and its companion stories, please find me under the same username on AO3. Thanks everyone!

CW: mentions of infertility, loss of bodily autonomy

PART II
Chapter 13: The Apomict's Daughters*

1 year, 12 mo. after the end of the Reaper War
 The Citadel, Sol

Garrus massaged the knot behind his mandible as he gazed up at the holo-screen. The beige wall of the galaxy's blandest conference room displayed the day's agenda in a hazy blue light, alongside the list of representatives and the current time on the Citadel. Three more minutes until the morning planning session was over.

Thin lips crooked into a dour curl, Dalatrass Emora cleared her throat. "We have reviewed the seating chart for the luncheon portion of the summit. The Salarian Union requests that each race be seated in their own separate sections." Her voice had all the majesty and authority of a wet noodle.

"Where would be the good in that?" The disembodied visage of Urdnot Bakara hovered in the space next to the Dalatrass. Her hologram flickered, perhaps a reflection of her annoyance—at least that's what Garrus imagined. "Wouldn't we do better to have mixed seating? A free exchange of ideas cannot happen if we are siloed in our own enclaves. Are we not building relationships for the betterment of the galaxy?"

The Dalatrass did not relent. "If we are to negotiate on behalf of our respective governments, it is best for us to sit as a single block."

"But what of those who do not have a large representation?" asked Admiral Raan, who also appeared as a hologram.

Behind the placard reading 'Systems Alliance', Kaidan rubbed his chin. "Each race is limited to six delegates each. That shouldn't be a problem".

"We should be free to speak amongst our respective groups without fear of interference," said Matriarch Deneya.

Garrus wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself. "It's a luncheon," he reminded them. "We won't exactly be dealing with hard-hitting issues during lunch. We'll be too busy stuffing our faces with whatever pretentious nosh they serve important people."

Scoffing, Dalatrass Emora turned her head and addressed the air in front of her. "If the turian representative cannot afford this issue the serious attention it deserves, we reserve the right to request a substitute take his place."

Ah, the royal 'we'. And speaking around him, on top of everything. The Dalatrass' reputation as pugnacious and territorial preceded her. Garrus supposed being head of one of the most powerless families in the Salarian Union could do that to a person.

All the fuss over trivial details was beginning to rankle him. They'd already wasted the morning arguing over the opening ceremony, with the Dalatrass and Matriarch Deneya at each other's throats like stray varren. They were nearly halfway through day one and the agenda hadn't been finalized. At this rate, the summit wouldn't be held until 2764.

"Exasperation: The end of our time block draws upon us." Ambassador Calyn's long drawl cut through the tension, and everyone watched as each word left his mouth with the same soporific drone. Looking back, it seemed a mistake to designate the representative from Dakkuna as facilitator for the meeting, but changing moderators halfway through would be a violation of decorum. "We may continue this discussion after a well deserved meal break. To 'stuff our faces' as the turian representative so colorfully puts it."

"Oh thank the spirits," Garrus said under his breath.

As she pushed back from the conference table, the Dalatrass lanced Garrus with her sharp gaze, then lifted the hem of her robes before walking away. Sighs rolled through the group. They bunched up at the wide doors, everyone ready to leave the stuffiness of the room behind for an hour.

Stepping out into the courtyard, Garrus took a deep breath and stretched his neck. It had been a long morning. Considering how the meeting had gone so far, he wondered if the Primarch hadn't sent him as secret punishment for something he'd done wrong. He gripped the railing of the balcony and looked out onto the Presidium's pristine lake. A memory of flying above the water worked its way to the front of his mind: Shepard's surprised face when she missed the last bottle in their impromptu shoot-off. Couldn't match the master. He'd begun to chuckle when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"Garrus, hey—"

He spun around to see Kaidan right behind him, holding his hand out. "Kaidan…" He shook his hand. "Sorry I missed the morning greetings."

"I wasn't expecting to see your name on the list today."

"I suppose I did too good a job haggling with the Galactic Relief Fund. The Primarch rearranged a few things and sent me last minute."

"I'm grateful. The mood in there was getting a little sour. You certainly lightened it a little."

Garrus shook his head. "Heh. And this isn't even the actual summit."

"There's a lot on the discussion table. Whatever we can do to make sure things run smoothly…well, we'd better do it. The less friction the better." He glanced down at this omnitool which was already powered on.

"Absolutely," Garrus replied. "I'll be honest, this isn't really how I pictured spending my time today."

Kaidan chuckled. "Me either, friend, me either." Glancing down at his omnitool again, he pressed his lips together.

"Got somewhere to be?"

"Ahh, I've got a…uh, an appointment."

Appointment, huh? Shepard was right, Kaidan wasn't very good at hiding things. It was a wonder he and Miranda hadn't be caught by the Alliance yet. "Meeting someone for lunch?"

"Something like that," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "And you? Is Shepard here?"

"No, not today. She's got some work back at the orchard. She's been taking that promise to your mom pretty seriously." It wasn't a lie. And he knew she wouldn't appreciate him explaining her reluctance to return to the Citadel anyway.

Kaidan's mouth crooked into a faint smile. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"Don't let me keep you if you have to go…"

"Oh no, you're not. But yeah, I should probably go," he said as he glanced down at his omnitool again. "Um, alright then. See you after lunch?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Garrus said drolly, and raised a hand as Kaidan walked away.

With nowhere in particular to be, he was in no rush to leave. He gazed up toward the Presidum's countless floors, their windows like a waterfall of reflections cascading into the lake. To his right, Huerta Memorial stretched long across the water, from one side of the ring to the other, its entire span lined floor-to-ceiling with airy windows; staff and patients alike could be seen shuffling through the main corridor like insects in a long, glass tube. Amongst the bustle, something caught Garrus' attention: a stiff, motionless figure standing in plain relief. A human woman, roughly the same height as Shepard. She had the same color and length of hair, and her clothing was the kind of practical, nondescript style Shepard was fond of wearing. Garrus squinted. The woman's face was turned away from him; he could only make out the edge of her jaw and cheek.

He looked away. No, it couldn't be her. He had said goodbye for the day and left her at the orchard. It was probably someone with the same haircut and similar clothes; Shepard was never on the cutting edge of fashion, her style was common enough. Besides, her medical care was overseen by the Alliance, not Huerta Memorial. There was no reason for her to be on the Citadel. And she had said herself that she didn't want to return yet. Was he so lovesick that he couldn't go a day without thinking of her, or worse, seeing her in places she wasn't?

He looked up again, but the woman had gone. No, it wasn't Shepard.

Kaidan paused before descending the stairs at the Presidium Commons. A swell of galactic citizens swept past him in thick waves, the froth of their conversations bubbling around him. But Kaidan's ears were deaf to the noise, as if he were just below the surface of the water, the ocean's foam hissing above. Life on the Citadel had returned to normal, and with the upcoming summit, the wards and embassies were crowded with diplomats and visitors from across the open galaxy.

He peered down toward Apollo's Cafe and scoured the tables for his date. On the lowest terrace, past the crowded plaza and open storefront, Miranda studied the menu, seated at the last table on the far end—the quietest part of the cafe. Whisps of steam curled up from the cup in her hand. Keeping his eyes glued to her unbowed frame, he started down the stairs.

It was midday on the hulking station, and the artificial breeze blew through the Commons in its predictable way. It was strong enough to sway the saplings that lined the terrace, and to free hair from the sides of Miranda's slack ponytail. She tucked the stray strands behind her ear. Kaidan's breath hitched at the simple gesture; she still stole his breath at every turn, polished or unpolished. Sometimes, he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and take her home. But life wasn't so simple, and neither were they, and that fantasy would remain just that—a fantasy.

She smiled as he approached the table. "Hello there, handsome. Fancy meeting you here."

"Ms. Lawson," he said, struggling to keep a straight face. "I'm just here performing Alliance duties. I saw you sitting here all by yourself, thought I'd offer my company. Do you mind?" He gestured to the empty chair next to her.

"Be my guest."

Kaidan pulled the chair out and winked. They always did have fun playing coy. As painful as it could be, not going public with their relationship had its benefits.

Miranda crossed her legs and leaned forward to rest her elbow on the table. "I hope you don't mind, but I invited Ori to join us today."

"Or-Oriana?" He shifted in his seat. "I didn't know she was on the Citadel."

"She's been dying to meet you. She won't be back in Sol for a few months, I thought this was the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to know each other. She is my only family, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, of course…no problem. I'd love to meet her." His lips curled back into a stiff smile—the kind of vacuous facade you might find on a department store mannequin.

What was supposed to be a casual lunch date had now turned into a plot of meet-the-family. And not just any family, but Miranda's genetic twin, someone who could run circles around almost anyone in almost any category. One Lawson woman was intimidating enough, but two? There weren't enough gods to pray to for strength.

Still, the hope that Miranda felt the same way he did put a brisk wind into his sails. The introduction of family was serious business by his estimation, especially for Miranda, who had no other relatives to speak of. But soon Kaidan found his thoughts blown sideways and set adrift. Miranda loved Oriana the most out of anyone in the universe, and she trusted her just the same; if he failed to make a good impression, he could find himself dashed upon the rocks.

At the table, Kaidan caught himself bouncing his knee, his nervous energy vibrating through his foot and down to the floor. He stopped, hoping Miranda hadn't noticed.

She took a sip of her coffee. "How's the meeting so far? Has anyone been strangled yet?"

"No, no…but there were a couple of times I thought the Dalatrass might throw a shoe."

"Do dalatrasses even wear shoes?"

He couldn't say that he'd ever noticed. He shrugged. "You said you had business on the Citadel today. Not Alliance business, I take it?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it at the moment." She set her cup down gently. "No offense."

"None taken," he replied as he picked up the menu. Despite his curiosity, he knew better than to press her for details. Miranda etched her boundaries deep and true, and he did his best to respect them. He trusted her: there would be a good reason for her secrecy.

She pursed her lips. "Mmm…I'm not too impressed with this menu today."

"The steak here is always good. Or at least it used to be." Kaidan drummed his fingers on the table as he scanned the offerings, skipping over the other dishes until he came to the meat entrées. He squinted at the fine print below the heading. "We reserve the right to make substitutes," he muttered. "What do you think they mean by 'substitutes'?"

"I'd wager something lab grown, or perhaps modified."

Kaidan scrolled to the end of the menu. The impossibly tiny letters—tinier than the previous caveat—were scarcely more than a few points tall. "S-s-sub…Sub? Sub…" he said slowly, holding the menu close to his face and squinting.

"Substitutions may include: Meef (fine mealworm 'beef'), culture grown tissue, or genetically modified urban game". Miranda crinkled her nose at the phrase 'urban game'. "I think I'll stick with the Cobb salad."

"Gosh, how can you even read that?"

"Superior vision includes the ability to read small type."

"Of course. Not sure how I forgot that." Amused, Kaidan tutted to himself and perused the menu for something else to order. Just as he had settled on a selection, the melodic arc of a woman's voice rose up behind him.

"Miriiiiii!"

He looked over his shoulder to see a young woman in faded coveralls loping toward them. A large duffel bag was slung across her chest, weighing her slight shoulders down on one side. She had Miranda's dark hair and striking blue eyes, but her face was warmer, the expression lines around her mouth stitched with the mirth of a happy childhood.

Her bag fell to the ground with a dull whump, sending a cloud of fine particles into the air.

"You made it! I'm so happy you're here," said Miranda as she rushed to greet her.

The sisters embraced, their eyes closed as relieved contentment softened their cheeks and foreheads. It was a reunion that had become commonplace in the upturned aftermath of war: loved ones, set far apart by bad luck or circumstance, or likely necessity, holding each other tight after months or years away.

Kaidan stood up and waited for them to untangle. As the moment stretched on, his arms dangled by his sides like the two ropes of an unmoored ship. When she opened her eyes, Oriana beamed: her gaze had fallen squarely upon him.

"You must be the one I've heard so much about!" she said as she let go of Miranda.

"A pleasure to meet you, Oriana." He offered his hand. "I'm Kaidan—"

Ignoring his polite offering, Oriana lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Kaidan froze. A squeal rushed out of her as she squeezed him so tight he was sure his ribcage would collapse. The girl was stronger than she looked.

"It's so nice to finally meet you!"

His eyes pleaded for Miranda to intervene.

"Ori!" she scolded in her most matronly tone.

Oriana smirked. As she loosened her hold, she whispered to him in a hasty blur of words, "Miri loves you so much. But don't tell her I told you that!"

Kaidan's jaw locked. It took a moment for the revelation to sink in. And when it did, a swift tidal wave washed over, razing all rational thought to the ground—nothing but a sea of shapeless rubble left in its wake. The word love had never come into the picture until now. He could only hope Miranda was too distracted by her sister's exuberance to notice the change in his expression.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I just got a little excited," Oriana said earnestly.

Miranda shook her head and picked Oriana's bag off the ground. "Ugh, Ori, this bag is in tatters! And it's filthy…" She grimaced as she held the bag out at arm's length. "You really ought to buy a new one."

"Ehh, you know how pay is at these megacorps. Besides, why bother? This one still works."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda placed the bag next to one of the empty chairs. Kaidan pulled the chair out and motioned for Oriana to take a seat before taking his own seat again.

"Well that's different…" Oriana said with a pleased inflection, an awestruck smile still on her face.

Kaidan tucked himself into the table. "So, I hear you're back from Sirona? How is it out there?"

"Yes! My ship literally docked twenty minutes ago. I'm dead. Dead tired. Sirona was a slog."

"I had a comrade—a friend—who was born on Sirona. She seemed to think it was a great place to grow up."

"It was. Until the Reapers flattened the hell out of everything." She rapped her knuckles on the table. "So like anywhere else, really. Reconstruction top to bottom—starting with agricultural land and mining sites."

Before Kaidan could ask another question, Miranda hijacked the conversation. "Tell me, Ori, how is it working with McAvoy? He was quite impressed by the proposal you submitted. He told me so himself." She pushed a menu toward her sister.

She raised her eyebrows. "You really wanna know?"

"Is it that bad?"

"Define 'bad'."

"Well?" she asked, glaring.

"He said not to tell you, buuuuut…"—Oriana held the menu up to the lower half of her face, her eyes peeking over with nervous mischief—"he thinks I might be even more capable than you are."

Miranda gave her a scathing, sideways glance. "Bastard."

Unsure of what to make of the situation, Kaidan flicked his gaze from one sister to the other. The last thing he wanted to do was come between two pissed off Lawsons.

"He's right, you know. You are more capable than I am. "

Oriana shoved at her sister's shoulder. "Oh my god, don't do that! I thought you were actually mad!"

Tittering, Miranda threw her head back, and a ribbon of wickedness fluttered through her voice, growing until her laughter wobbled like fine sheet metal.

At first, Kaidan furrowed his brow in confusion; her playful side still surprised him. Glimmers shone here and there, in the moments where she was most relaxed—teasing him in the warmed, fatigued afterglow of making love—or in moments of earned smugness, like when someone insisted she was wrong when she wasn't. She'd make a brassy remark, toss her hair. Sometimes sing cheesy pop songs to herself when she thought Kaidan was far from earshot. But now her playfulness was on full display, and the rosy light reflecting from her smooth face made him smile from ear-to-ear.

He relaxed into his chair, the sisters' easiness bringing down his guard more than he was aware of. They placed their orders, and the table filled with lively chit-chat as they waited, most of it about the greater world outside: the far-flung relays that still remained closed, the states of various planets and colonies, and of course, Oriana's work and where she saw herself going forward. Inevitably, the focus circled around back to Kaidan, who by then had gained more confidence in managing Oriana's keen energy. Was it true he had dated the most famous woman in the galaxy? Was being an L2 as painful as everyone said? What was his favorite vid? What did he love about her sister, or rather, what didn't he love? (It was a good thing he'd had his wits about him or he might have answered something other than "no comment."). As lunch pressed on, Kaidan found himself wondering what he'd been so afraid of. Oriana easy going and kind, and it wasn't long before he'd been charmed by her too.

Lingering on the peaceful terrace, they made slow work of their meals, in no real hurry to move along. Oriana had pulled up her omnitool at Miranda's request. They leaned their heads together and scrolled through pictures of her latest project, with Miranda's laughter pealing through the terrace as Oriana shared stories from the field.

From a distance, the blissful, domestic tableau could have been any place, any time. No one could have guessed that these sisters had begun life in the manner they had, nor experienced the troubles they did. That was doubly so for Miranda. She'd been forged by the will of a cold, egotistical man, bent and wrought into the form he'd envisioned, only to be tossed back into the fire again and again when she didn't meet his liking. It was a wonder she could laugh at all, let alone heartily.

She was almost like another person with her sister—carefree and animated, as if a magic spell had been cast by an unknown hand. That restrained, self-possessed woman he'd first met at the Silversun Strip was nowhere to be found. He sat back, afloat in the Lawsons' windless lagoon, content to let the scene play on as long as it needed to.

Two tables over, a little girl, no more than two or three years old, wriggled in her seat and stared at him with wide eyes. Fork held upright in her pudgy fist, she held the points of the tines to her open lips. Kaidan noticed her staring and smiled. She waved both arms at him. He waved back. She stuck her tongue out. He twisted his face. She grinned and laughed and bobbed her head back and forth.

Miranda looked up. "What in the world…" Her grown boyfriend was pulling a face like a grade school clown.

With a determined grunt, the girl climbed down from her tall chair, nearly tipping over as she slithered down the seat. She staggered at a clip until her clunky footsteps stopped right next to Kaidan.

"Julia!" cried a man from the other table.

Kaidan glanced over, then looked back at the girl. He thought it best to keep her occupied. "Well hi there!Are you here having lunch too?"

"Yah! Wif—wif my dahdy. I'm eat upsketti."

"Julia…" said the man as he approached their table. "Let's let the gentleman enjoy his meal." He took her by the hand and turned to Kaidan with an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry, she just wants to talk to everyone these days."

"Oh, we were just having a friendly chat, weren't we?" Kaidan smiled brightly at the little girl. "But you shouldn't leave your dad like that. He might get a little lonely, don't you think?"

She gave a shy nod as she tugged on her father's wrist.

"Ok, come along now," her dad said as he looked down at her. "Sorry about that."

"Heh, not a problem." Kaidan waved as they walked away.

Snapping her head toward Miranda, Oriana's eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened. Miranda shot a look back and gave her little sister a swift kick under the table.

"Wow, she was quite taken with you," said Oriana with a stunned smile. She propped her elbows up on the table and clasped her hands together. "Do you have any nieces or nephews? You seem like a natural with kids."

"No, I'm an only child. No children in my life to speak of." Kaidan rubbed a finger along the rim of his glass. "Though, I'd love to have some of my own someday."

"Oh yeah? Any idea how many?"

"Mmm, maybe three or four?" he said, looking up again. "If she's up for it."

"Three or four? Wow…" Oriana's eyes darted toward her sister, who's face had gone pale and hard.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to imply—I didn't mean you," he said to Miranda. "I just meant whoever it is I…whoever I end up with. Er, have kids with…" His thoughts were an eddy of heat swirling in the wrong direction. He scratched at the nape of his neck. "Crap, sorry, that came out the wrong way—"

"It's alright, Kaidan, I'm not upset. I'm not really thinking that far ahead anyway," Miranda said with a tight laugh.

"You're not?"

"Hell, in my line of work, I could be dead tomorrow. Not exactly a lifestyle conducive to having children. As much as I've had the occasional longing for a normal life, I don't think it's in the cards for me. I'll be a free agent for a long time yet."

Kaidan was silent. It wasn't her comment about children that bothered him most—that was another matter to unpack—but had she really not thought about their future at all? Not even as an idle daydream? Would her definition of 'normal' include marriage? A home? His heart sank. He began to wonder if he was wrong for thinking they were something more than ports in a storm.

"Yeah, you've got a point," he finally said. "Children are a big commitment. Not one you take lightly."

Oriana lolled her head toward her sister. "We, of all people, would know that. Wouldn't we, Miri?"

Suddenly, Miranda had shown newfound interest in her menu. Without looking up, she said, "Say, do either of you fancy a glass of wine? A digestif to cap things off?"

"Oh, none for me, thanks," said Kaidan. "It's not a good look to stroll into a meeting smelling of alcohol."

"Mmm, suit yourself."

Miranda's mouth welded shut. The remaining few minutes before he left were spent picking at what remained on their plates, and conversation had dwindled to idle small talk between he and Oriana. Finally, Kaidan told them it was time for him to return to his meeting. Oriana offered a long hug and wished him well, and Miranda thanked him for joining her and said she'd give him a call the next day.

As he waited at the counter to pay—something he'd insisted on doing—he looked back at the faraway table. Oriana was preoccupied with something on her omnitool, and Miranda's head was turned toward the lake, her hair dipping between her stolid shoulders like slow-cooling filaments. The spell had broken, and Kaidan found himself adrift at sea once again.

When Kaidan had gone, the mood had gone with him. Miranda didn't feel like talking anymore. Amazing the damage one small child could do in less than a thirty seconds. In the following minutes, she'd recast herself as the aloof stoic—a hard, unbending person who wouldn't let anything rattle her. The shape she'd settled into since she was a child herself.

Oriana broke the strained silence. "Soooo…Mr. Alenko, hmm?" she said as she slid her hands across the table. "He's pretty hot, sis."

"I like to think so."

"Handsome, kind, has his act together. Respectable career to boot," she said wistfully. "How serious are you? Because I haven't heard you so much as mention another man."

"Serious enough."

"What about what he said, about wanting a family?"

"What about it?"

Frowning, Oriana inhaled loudly through her nose, loud enough that Miranda knew she had done it on purpose. She was not going to be bullied into an answer, even by her own little sister.

"He knows how I feel. We'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it." If we ever come to it.

"Seems like you two hadn't talked about it until now. Does he even know—"

"No, he doesn't."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Listen, can we discuss this some other time?" Miranda's hand came down from her forehead to slap the table. Her words were thin and taut like piano wire. "I don't want to spend my precious few hours with you squabbling over my ovaries."

"Gosh, you don't need to bite my head off. I was just asking."

A reserved sigh slipped from her mouth. "I'm sorry, Ori."

Her sister had been right to call her out for that remark. Staring out beyond the terrace, she studied the people criss-crossing through the Commons, and she wondered if their problems were anything like hers.

"You know, I envy you," she said, turning back to Oriana.

"Envy? Why's that?"

"That you can decide whether to have children. Choice? I didn't get one. Our father took that away the moment I was made." Gnashing her teeth behind her squared lips, she held back the molten bile threatening to retch out of her. "I know you understand how that feels."

"I do."

"It's funny. I thought I was done being angry. I'm not. Seeing Jacob on Luna…it bothered me. I held that little baby of his in my arms and—and I felt sad for myself. I don't know if it's because I actually want children. But I mourned something that day. I mourned a future I could never choose." She looked pointedly at her sister, her icy eyes now turned to steel. "But there's nothing to be done about it now."

"You're allowed to be angry, Miri," said Oriana, placing a hand on her forearm.

"Thanks."

"Just promise me"—she leaned in close and spoke slowly—"you won't dump a perfectly good boyfriend before talking to him first? If you love him, he deserves to know the truth."

Miranda gave a weak smile. "I know I can be shrewd, but I'm not cruel."

Gazing down at the cluttered table—with its scraped plates, glasses, and utensils—she considered just leaving the items for the busser to sort out. That was their job, after all. But an unexpected feeling of guilt gnawed at her, and she felt sorry for the person who would have to clean up her mess. She stacked the plates and glasses, and placed the utensils inside. Oriana only looked on, her expression perplexed.

"Now, what do you say we get out of here and do some shopping?" Miranda stood up and heaved her sister's threadbare duffel over her shoulder. "I think it's time I bought you a new bag."

*Apomict - a plant that produces seeds asexually, without the need for fertilization

Song: "You Could Have Been A Roosevelt" - Aimee Mann
This could be us / But there was just a trust we never felt / It's hard to be a Kennedy / When you could have been a Roosevelt