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9-15-2185
[ MFS NEEMA ]
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Harsh and fluorescent, the light of the bathroom buzzed. It cast out an unflattering shadow across Juel's sallow face as he stared into his reflection. One good arm braced against the sink, he leaned in, eyes fixed on empty space where his left arm should've been.
Ten minutes he'd spent staring.
Phantom limb, they'd said. He certainly felt its presence.
The acrid smell of antiseptic still clung to him like it always did. He never quite got over the stench.
He wasn't supposed to be standing either. The doctor was clear: Stay in bed and if you needed to piss, you asked for help.
But here he was. Breaking rules and swaying slightly on his feet, the room occasionally tilting in his vision.
"You should be dead." He uttered to the face staring back at him, "…Why aren't you dead?"
He should've died on that bed and finally be at peace. But the universe, it seemed, in a way he should've expected, tugged fate with its twisted sense of humor. Take an arm, spare a life. Perhaps a cosmic joke he wasn't entirely in on.
A slow pan upward to the cabinet above. Inside, he knew, were pain meds. Not the good stuff. But enough to take the edge off. His hand grasped the handle, but he didn't open it when he remembered the tradeoff was all the side-effects he got instead. He clenched his jaw and decided it was easier to deal with the ache rather than the nausea that often came with taking pills.
So what was on the table for Juel'Kaan now that he was missing an arm?
Nothing, really.
Cybernetic enhancements or new limbs grown from your own cells? Yeah. The Migrant Fleet didn't have that. At least not for those that weren't critically essential.
Which meant, for now, he would have to get by with just his one.
He wiped away his mess of tears, ones made from all his pain and frustration, and whittled himself back to bed.
The constant sheen over his complexion and the mild fever he'd been dealing with had not been helping his mood.
Regardless, his timing had been fortunate. Dr. Taahn came walking across the hall. If he'd caught notice of him through the window, he would've turned whatever was left of the hour into a lecture.
He stopped at his door and pressed a button to open up the intercom.
"Juel."
He opened an eye and turned his head only slightly to let him know he was being engaged.
"…How're you feeling?"
"Mm." Was his grumble.
"Zumi's coming by soon to check up on you."
The ceiling took his focus and he gave a nod that hardly moved.
The PA clicked off and he left. Absently, he felt the stumpy end of what was to be his new elbow and winced at how tender it was. He kept that up for several minutes.
"Pretty pathetic ain't it, Serah." Juel murmured with a blank and emotionless stare into nothingness, "What do you think...?"
Nothing answered him. A swipe over his brow to keep the sweat at bay. He sank deeper into bed.
The visits came less frequently when the ship realized he didn't want visitors. Eventually, they stopped altogether.
A month now since anyone had tried visiting. No Enyah with her quiet concern, no Olasie trying to lighten the mood with forced jokes. Hiva's absence was marked by the silence where his booming laugh should have been. Even Tali, usually so persistent, had stopped coming.
He'd pushed them all away. Couldn't bear to see the pity in their eyes or the awkward glances at his missing arm. Now, the room felt more like a cell than a recovery ward.
All he wanted since was for it to be over. He wanted to say, in retrospect, that he had a good ride. But he didn't.
He was stuck here instead. Dealing with the consequences of not dying.
"Another little cruel joke to you, isn't it?" Juel uttered to the ceiling. "You're a monster. Couldn't even let me die."
His hand fumbled for the book on his lap, fingers tracing the worn spine. It was the only thing they'd allowed him to bring in here.
A sneer born from a snarl, he clutched the thing and hurled it with as much impassioned anger as he could. Watched its fluttering pages whisk about between its cover before smacking up against the glass wall and falling with a wimpy thud.
It lay there, splayed and abandoned. Like him.
Again, the timing was good, because Zumi came in shortly after, the door unintendedly sweeping the book under a cart without her realizing.
"Hi Juel."
"Hi." He mumbled as he settled himself again into bed.
His back was blotched with sweat. He hated how stale it made him feel.
She started logging his vitals and did a brief physical of his entire body. He'd long since forgotten how embarrassing it was to have your whole person checked over by a female nurse. But she'd been nothing but respectful and did everything she needed to make it as comfortable as possible.
"See anything?" Juel asked simply.
"You're still okay."
"...How do I look?"
She gave him a smile and pat his hand. "Better than you were the weeks before."
"You—uh... you busy?"
"Not really, no." She shrugged nonchalantly, "Why?"
He frowned. "I could use some company."
A pause and a frown that mirrored his. She sat on the stool conveniently by his bed.
"Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
She typed the rest of what she had to on her omni-tool. "So, why haven't you been letting people see you? I understood a little bit at first. But... you're getting better."
He held his head low and couldn't give her an answer.
"Why would you do that?" She pushed.
Another drag of silence and his eyes fluttered. He decided to just say it. To just tell the truth.
He tried to have his eyes meet hers but couldn't will himself to. "I wanted to die. There's nothing left for me here."
That was... definitely news to her. As disturbing as it was hearing that, she was flattered that he opened up that much about his feelings. She didn't know of any other way to help other than to snake a hand into his and squeeze as tightly as comfort would allow. She scrunched her face up too in disappointment.
"Nothing left for you? Do you know how many people on the Neema love you, Juel? There isn't a soul aboard that hasn't been thinking about you. You are important to us. We can't always see your pain but we're family. Everyone is here for you. No matter what."
She could see his face droop from that. She still held onto his hand as if it were a connection to every heart on this ship. "It's easy to make enemies, you know that? You don't have a single one that lives on this ship. Even with that constant scowl of yours."
Tightness in his jaw and a tremor on his chin, the emotions he'd capped in a jar began to pull at his features. He blinked away more tears and clumsily sent them away with a hand.
"Now." She said with a huff, "You're getting better. You're here with us still. You need to let everyone know that. Tell everyone that you're going to be okay."
"Alright." He croaked, "Okay. I will. I'm sorry."
She stood and gave him a gentle hug. "We love you. Don't forget that."
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Dr. Steven Wilson was a man whose brilliance was matched only by his pragmatism. At 47 years of age, he stood as one of the foremost experts in the field of neuroscience, with a particular focus on cognition and cortical remapping. Salt and pepper hair that had long since left him behind, his perpetually furrowed brow took the lead of his most distinctive feature.
Born on earth to a family with no academic lineage, Wilson had shown a very early aptitude for science. Particularly in wanting to know more about the human brain. He earned his PhD from Oxford at a ripe 25, with a groundbreaking thesis on synaptic plasticity in trauma recovery.
You could see where this was going.
His work caught the attention of both the Alliance and private sector and it led him down a very lucrative career. Sadly, the application of his art was constrained under the limitations of whatever a contract asked for and the budget it stipulated.
Layering this cake of nonsense with the ethical committees, and the government oversight, and the independent laboratories, and the adversarial 'colleagues' who behaved as if they knew more than him…? Blegh.
It was frustrating, to say the least, to constantly be cinched to a box.
His work rarely pushed boundaries. Real boundaries, mind you. Naturally, given his proclivities, this hardly satiated his many ambitions.
He wanted to push those horizons. To push past what anyone thought possible. Dr. Wilson was a man who was always drawn to research many would find… controversial.
Coincidentally, or rather, inevitably, Cerberus found him. And he was the perfect man for a perfect job.
His nature often put him at complete odds with his supervisor, Miranda Lawson. Whereas Lawson saw a bigger picture in this puzzle, Wilson was much more focused on the minutia. It was a dynamic that worked, thankfully.
Underneath his zeal, however, was something Wilson harbored inside. He sometimes wondered if his drive was more about his deep-seated fear of cognitive decline.
He did not want to end up like his father. Or his father before.
It was a personal anxiety of his, admittedly. It drove him to try and find ways to preserve and enhance neural function. The mission of Lazarus was to resurrect Shepard, yes. But for Wilson, its ancillary purpose was a steppingstone to unlocking the secrets of consciousness itself.
Or. At least he hoped. It was a tall feat to be chasing after, no doubt.
He took a sip of coffee and was surprised by the taste. It was lighter than usual. Not the crap he remembered drinking for the last year.
"Different roast?" Wilson asked mildly, turning to face Lawson's back.
"I wouldn't know." She said after a moment that stretched a little farther than it should.
"Try some." He said, "Still some left in the break room. Tell me if you notice."
"I don't drink coffee." Miranda answered plainly, back still facing him and eyes still scanning her screen.
"Ah." That made a lot of sense. She was uptight enough. Caffeine would probably dial her totalitarianism tenfold. "Tea then. You look like a ginger kind of type."
She was disappointed to know he'd guessed right.
"Are we ready for review?" She said, foregoing the effort of engaging in his pleasantries. A resigned sigh and another sip before setting the mug aside.
"Yes. You on the review screen?"
"I am."
His demeanor shifted to clinical professionalism. "Then let's review."
He began scrolling.
"Cranial nerve integration is complete. We're seeing normal function across all twelve pairs, including oculomotor control and facial sensory input."
"And the spinal pathways?"
"The corticospinal tract is showing green across all segments," Wilson continued. "Both lateral and anterior columns are conducting signals within expected parameters. The posterior column-medial lemniscus pathway is... exceptional, actually. Proprioception and fine touch discrimination are testing above baseline."
Lawson nodded. "Good."
Wilson pulled up another set of data streams. "Sympathetic and parasympathetic systems are balanced. Heart rate variability is within normal limits, and we're seeing appropriate baroreceptor responses."
As he scrolled through more data, Wilson's brow suddenly furrowed. He leaned in closer to the display, his earlier satisfaction evaporating.
"Wilson?" Lawson prompted, her voice sharpening. "What is it?"
He read deeper into the additional scans and the silence stretched.
"Dr. Wilson," Lawson repeated, "report."
Wilson's frown deepened and he finally acknowledged her. "It's the limbic system. There's an anomaly in the hippocampus." He highlighted a section of a brain scan. "See here? The dentate gyrus is showing unusual synaptic plasticity."
Miranda leaned in, her shoulder almost touching Wilson's as they both stared at the scan. "Implications?" she asked, voice low.
He shook his head, but only slightly. "Unclear. It could enhance memory formation and recall, but..." he trailed off.
"But what?"
"Well. It could also lead to hypermnesia or false memory syndrome," He finished, lips pressing into a thin line.
The soft beeping of monitoring equipment seemed to grow louder.
"We need to run more tests," He said finally, reaching for his coffee again. "And we may need to adjust the neural inhibitors."
"What does that entail?"
Wilson gave the woman a serious stare. "Waking him up."
Her stare turned cold. "…Why would we do that?"
Sensing that she wasn't all that privy to entertaining that course of action, he took another sip to buy him time to collect his reasonings together.
"The brain is not a static organ. It's, in a sense, very plastic. Dynamic. The network of neural connections are constantly changing."
He pointed at the screen and had it zoom in. "What we're seeing in the hippocampus - this unusual synaptic plasticity - it's not something we can fully assess while Shepard is in this suspended state."
He pulled up more of what looked the same to her. "And here. The dentate gyrus is showing activity patterns that suggest increased neurogenesis. In a normal, functioning brain, this could lead to enhanced memory formation and cognitive flexibility. But, in our case, with the extensive reconstruction we've done?"
He blew out a puff of air and shrugged. "We have to see how these new neural pathways integrate with existing memories and cognitive functions."
"And that requires an active, conscious brain." Miranda finished.
"Yup."
"Bloody hell."
"We've rebuilt the engine. But part of knowing if it's working is turning the key and letting it run. We have to see Shepard's consciousness interacting with these new structures."
"Give me a worst-case scenario if this goes wrong."
"Oh, god. I couldn't give you a straight answer. This might trigger a… seizure? A stroke? Diabetes? I really don't know. What I do know is that the risk of false memory syndrome or personality alteration is too high to be ignoring. We need him awake. Even briefly, to run some cognitive tests. We need to verify his core memories and personality are intact."
"Is this risk even calculable?"
Wilson ran a hand over his head and felt for his whiskers. "Whatever happens, if damage occurs, is likely reversable. It might set us back, but it is reversable. We un-mummified a corpse. That was, frankly, magnitudes more difficult than what we're dealing with now."
Miranda, with one hand onto another, thought, eyes cast down, brows furrowed.
"Look. The alternative is we don't do this." Wilson added, "That could potentiate activating a consciousness later that's… not quite Shepard. Or worse. A mind trapped in a loop of false or hyperactive memories. We need to calibrate now, while we still have the chance to make the adjustments we need without train wrecking him with PTSD."
They both stare at the naked man in his glass container.
"Fine. Schedule him in tomorrow. Pull sedation. Full trauma team dressed and ready when we do it."
"I'll start the preparations."
Miranda's gaze lingered on Shepard, her expression unreadable. "I want a full briefing first thing in the morning. We need to be absolutely certain before we proceed."
"Understood. I'll have a complete report ready by 0600."
As Miranda prepared to leave the lab, she paused at the door. "And Wilson? Double-check everything. No avoidable mistakes."
"Of course."
The soft hiss of an automatic door punctuated her exit, leaving him alone with the steady hum of machinery and he looked inward at the enormity of what they were attempting.
A meager stare toward the suspended man, a hand leaning over to reach his mug, "Big day tomorrow, Commander," he murmured more to himself than to comatose John.
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Her mind was wandering in places she couldn't quite name, hands idly toying with a frayed edge of realk pinned around the tops of her hands.
It was an absent thing to be doing. Subconscious really. A physical manifestation of the mental fraying she was trying not to dwell on.
She read it again, back rasping against her chair, head lulling over her desk.
- ᴛᴀʟɪ, ᴊᴜᴇʟ ʜᴀs ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ʜɪs ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ. -ᴢᴜᴜᴍɪ -
She was not expecting a text like that.
After pushing everyone away, why the sudden change? She grumbled something unintelligible and buried her head in her arms. The idea of visiting him filled her with dread. Enough dread that she felt a piece of her wanting to disappear.
Eyes disassociating, she even felt, for a moment that stretched longer than it should have, of how much easier it would be if she just ran from all her problems and… left everyone and everything behind.
But… then what? Where would she even go? Find Garrus? Meet Liara? See Wrex?
None of that even made sense. There was nothing out there for her.
She already tried running from the Normandy. Tried running from everyone she'd ever known.
Even tried running from John, she supposed. Look where that got her. There was no telling what running would do to her if she tried it again. ㅤ
She took in some air and realized she'd been blankly staring at nothing. With a resigned sigh, she pushed away from her desk and knew she couldn't keep avoiding this.
She left her home.
The walk to the infirmary felt longer than usual. But, before she knew it, she was standing just outside his room.
Through the glass, she could see him on the bed, his back to the door. For a moment, she only watched as if she could somehow reconcile this image with the man she remembered.
Hand held over the switch to flick on the intercom, she finally committed.
"Juel…?" She whispered through the little speaker.
She couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not.
"Juel?" She said again to see if he was up, "...You awake?"
He stirred slightly and turned to see who was talking to him.
When he realized who it was, he felt surprised that she'd even consider coming to see him after what was essentially a fallout between them all.
"Tali?" He answered as he opened his dark and sunken eyes, "Hey. You came."
She stared on before nodding slowly to him. "Should I come in?"
"Yeah." He said with the barest hint of a smile, "You should."
He coughed and she couldn't help but slightly cringe at the sound of phlegm gurgling.
She walked through a clarifying jet of antiseptic mist for a minute or so before finally entering his room.
"Keelah." She said with a mumble, trying her best to pretend nothing happened between them, "You look like shit."
He laughed and that made her feel elated. It was Juel. The Juel she knew.
"Yeah, I do." He answered, "Pun intended I see."
"Ah." She rubbed the sudden kink in her neck, "Bad choice of words. Sorry."
He sighed as he showed Tali his stumpy limb, "They didn't let me keep the other half as a souvenir. Pity."
"Biological hazard I'd imagine." She panned with a timid grin that was hardly there, "You doped up right now?"
"Yeah. They spared me some earlier."
She nodded and sat beside him, her hands becoming the focus of her attention when she tried to think of what to say next.
She knew they were both thinking about what he'd said a month ago, but she'd rather just forget about it entirely and move on from it all.
The ensuing silence was a little awkward.
"Uhm..." He winced slightly, "Tali."
She looked back up. "Hm?"
"I'm sorry. For what I said to you."
She didn't say anything for a long while and eventually gave him a spiritless nod.
"You don't have to say sorry." she murmured without looking him in the eye anymore, "I just want you to be okay."
"...Friends?"
"Friends."
"…I can grovel if you want."
A lukewarm laugh and she shook her head.
"How's Olasie?" He said, pushing them somewhere lighter.
"She's fine. You should probably have her swing by after me."
"And Enyah?"
"The same."
"Okay."
"Can I touch it?"
He bumbled out a laugh and let her press a finger against the nub.
"Ow."
"Still tender I see."
"Who would've thought."
"Let's find you a doctor on Illium. Somewhere to get you a prosthesis. A good one."
He genuinely thought she was joking. "Perfect place for the fine print to take your kidneys."
"The Citadel, then."
He frowned when he realized it wasn't just a jest. "...you're not joking are you?"
"No." She said a little offhandedly, "Of course not."
"Tali, that stuff is expensive. I appreciate the gesture, but that's like… hundreds of thousands of credits, expensive."
"That's not an obstacle."
Oh. Wow. Juel hadn't realized she had that much saved up. "You really got that much money?"
"I do. John gave me a lot before he died."
"Tali—"
"Juel. I think it's time you catch a break for once."
He held his stare, expression unreadable. Then, a dry chuckle. "A break, huh?"
She said nothing and his head dropped into his pillow. "Aren't I the luckiest man alive." He said sourly, resignation and acceptance coloring his tone. The humor was dark, but lighthearted, "But," A sigh, "I suppose I'm not in a position to complain since I've got people like you."
Her gaze fell and she remembered something. And old memory. Dusty, but cherished. A warm smile, hands set on the side of his bed, she looked him down.
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A long while ago.
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8-31-2183
[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | ZAKERA WARD | JUMAI SUITES ]
OPERATIONAL MANDATE: SHIPALT [DSRA] FOR SSV NORMANDY (SR-1).
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SYSTEMS ALLIANCE NAVY
NAVAL SPACE SYSTEMS COMMAND (NAVSSC)
SHIP ALTERATION AND DEPOT MAINTENANCE AVAILABILITY ORDER
NAVSSCINST 4790.8C
CLASS MAINTENANCE PLAN
PERIOD OF PERFORMANCE:
COMMENCEMENT: 08282183
COMPLETION: 09072183
SCOPE OF WORK:
a. HULL, MECHANICAL, & ELECTRICAL (HM&E) SYSTEMS UPGRADES
b. PROPULSION SYSTEMS MAINTENANCE
c. STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY CHECKS
d. STEALTH SYSTEMS RECALIBRATION
e. ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROL MAINTENANCE
f. CREW HABITABILITY IMPROVEMENTS
EXECUTING ACTIVITY:
PER'ANA JUNCTION TERMINAL | NAVSSC COMMAND.
BY DIRECTION OF ADMIRAL FUBUKI MIROKU
Commander, Systems Alliance NAVSSC
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Vacation. Or what felt like vacation. Scheduled refits for the Normandy had grounded the crew at the Citadel for the next ten days.
A sputter from a hotel suite's provided coffee maker, John hovered over the tiny thing and watched it with a stare one could only describe as crabby.
It was quiet in his room. Somewhat dark too. He hadn't opened the blinds yet to let in light. Only from a crack in the drapes could you see any.
The coffee maker finally dripped its last drop, and he pulled the mug away, eyeing the packet of grounds he was using with mild suspicion. A rich aroma might have filled the kitchenette, but his first sip had him grimacing.
A taste reminiscent of a sunbaked brick.
Awful.
Waltzing in place to face the closed window, he allowed himself another taste and it only begot another grimace. This time, a flavor akin to burnt rubber.
Lord.
With a disheveled sigh, he quietly crossed the room for the remote that would dress the room with morning light. Or whatever passed as morning light around here.
Maybe it just needed to stew a bit longer.
Another go and he smacked his tongue.
Definitely not better.
Peering out through the twinkling cityscape of Zakera, he sighed at the mesmerizing sight before turning away so he could place a hand along Tali's arm to give it gentle shake.
She stirred, a lazy squint and a couple blinks the only thing letting him know she was awake.
"Uhnhm." She managed.
"Good morning." John said, "Sleep well?"
A deep inhale and she snuggled under the covers a little more.
"Mm."
Her brain was still booting. Because she started to realize where she was and the bed she was sleeping in.
Blankly, her stare opened wide and she rose up to her elbows. She didn't say anything and eventually looked up at him, realization still dawning.
"You okay?" He asked.
"…Did I really just—"
"Fall asleep here?" He said meekly, "Sure did. Clocked right out. Thought movie night was supposed to be your thing."
A hand up against her forehead. "I'm sorry."
He shrugged, another sip interposing his sentence. "Blegh— Maybe Starship Troopers wasn't your thing?"
"Giant spiders are not my thing."
He was staring into his cup as if it had been poisoned.
"—Why do you keep drinking that if it tastes terrible?"
"I'm a sucker for pain."
She peeled away the comforter and stood to stretch. "…If I slept here…" Her frown got deeper, "Where'd you sleep?"
"Sofa."
"Aw, John. You should've woken me up or—"
"It's fine. Told you: Sucker for pain." He said, raising his mug.
She pouted.
"Ah, Tal's. I'm just yanking your chain. Sofa was plenty comfy. It's a pullout."
Relenting, she finally let herself stretch, vertebrae popping.
"Your realk-thing is in the dresser by the way. Boots are by the door."
She sat on the bed now and couldn't help but flank her hands against the side of her head. She felt like a kid and him, her mom.
"Keelah. This is embarrassing."
"Why's that?" He asked with a grin, electing to sit on the armchair and setting aside his mug on the side table.
"Council Spectre putting away my clothes?" She garbled, wishing she could rub the sleep from her eyes. "Oh, how could a girl ever find that humiliating."
"Don't have to think of it that way." He mused thoughtfully, the window holding his focus, "Could just be your friend doing it."
She blushed while his face soured when he, by habit, took in another swig of whatever he brewed.
"Alright," Tali snuck the mug away from him and set it far enough away from the man, "Enough of that. How about we get you some proper coffee?"
"I know just the place, actually." John said with a smile, "Not too far either."
"Oh?"
"Yan'Sues. Heard they make a killer burrito for quarians."
"Huh."
"Nachos if you'd prefer."
"Nachos for breakfast?" She made a face, knowing enough that nachos wasn't something you ate that early in the day.
He only shrugged.
"Anything else slated for your day?"
"Uh… Hm." John, feeling slightly astonished, had nothing. Planning for free time wasn't exactly his thing. He came up with the first thing that cropped up in his head. "…Shopping?"
"Now what does Commander Shepard go shopping for?" She asked, hands on her hips with a not-so-serious leery brow.
"Beats me." He said with a shrug, "But it sounds like something to do. Rotting here and working out only gets you through so much of the day."
He got to his feet when she finished dressing herself.
"Alright. Time for coffee." She said, slipping on her boots and walking to the front door. Strapping on his holster and clasping his watch, they both showed themselves out and began walking down the hallway.
"What do you think of the hotel?"
"Extravagant." Tali said honestly.
Rearing the corner, they saw Garrus at his doorway looking out through the wide panoramic window across from him.
"Shepard. Tali. So good to see you," he greeted as he caught wind of them, "Where were you two?"
"Nowhere?" Tali replied tightly with a quirked brow, "Why?"
Garrus' smile grew. "Hey. No worry. I won't tell."
"Tell? ...Garrus?" Tali's voice was clipped and nonplussed.
"Tell what?" Liara's head poked out from behind the turian before sipping on her fresh cup of tea.
Garrus leaned in dramatically toward Liara. "Tali slept in Shepard's room."
Liara feigned surprise. "What? Oh my."
"Ha." John face was a wry one, "Liara's in your room."
"I only came here for this." Liara said with a smile as she raised the mug up before patting Garrus on the shoulder, "I'll be leaving now."
The three watched the woman shuffle out in her slippers back to her suite.
"Yeah." John grumbled again, "Okay."
"Hey. She said she didn't have any in her room." Garrus said with a shrug.
John waved Garrus off. "Mm. Sure. Come on, Tali."
As they walked, he gave the turian something akin to a stink eye and watched him guffaw before closing his door.
"Hungry?"
"A little." She said, "Though I do have my op-aids in my room. I can always just eat that—"
He gave her a look that wasn't very impressed. Her aptitude to always turn down an activity said more about her reclusiveness than anything else.
"How much of an introvert would you call yourself?"
"Maybe like a six out of ten?"
"Ah. So. Do you mention other options because you're being polite? Or because you want to avoid me."
"Oh, totally," She muttered sarcastically, "This bosh'tet just can't take a hint."
A scoff and he called for the lift. "Well. No clay for my little quarian today."
She mumbled a nervous laugh.
They entered the lift, its soft hum a steady backdrop as it carried them smoothly down to the main lobby. The doors slid open, revealing the bright, busy foyer. Stepping out, they passed through the wide glass entrance, the city unfolding before them in a vibrant sprawl. The Citadel met them in every direction, a meld of chatter and the distant hum of skycars overhead.
"I'm glad the Alliance picked something besides the Presidium for once," she said as they continued their stroll, weaving through the small crowds that dotted the streets. "A little change of pace is nice."
"Would agree. Much less suffocating down here," he replied, glancing up at the sprawling towers and the wide streets buzzing with life.
They walked in easy silence for a few minutes, passing street vendors and storefronts with colorful displays before arriving at their destination, the city's pulse still thrumming around them.
"Here it is." John said, gesturing to the sign above them.
"Yan'Sues! Best eatery in town." Tali read before facing him, "Where'd you find out about this place?"
"Online." John answered as they entered through the door, "Good reviews. And patroned by your ilk."
"That can't be a coincidence." She said with a snort.
"You'd be right. Was looking for something we could enjoy together."
An involuntary smile at his thoughtfulness.
Self-seating, they found a table by the window and sat.
"You guys got restaurants on the fleet?"
The look he received was worth remembering. "No."
"Figured. I can't imagine what dating is like then. What do you guys do for fun?"
"Well." She pursed her lip and wove her hands together to find a place to lay them on the table, "I'm not really sure. I haven't exactly dated anyone."
Interesting.
"…Really?"
"Nope."
John, masking his surprise, gave her face of indifference instead. Not that he would have cared if she had, but it was surprising nonetheless. Or maybe it wasn't. Her dad was a high-ranking member of the fleet. Perhaps that was enough for most men to steer clear of her.
"Smart. Funny. I'd imagine you're pretty good looking to the boys."
She felt her heart fluff with butterflies.
"Uh." Was her well thought out reply before bumbling out a quick follow up, "—Uhm."
"So really no boyfriend?"
"Erhm. No."
"Oh, you poor thing."
A waitress came by and offered John an empty mug with a pot of coffee in the other hand.
"Would you fancy a cup?"
"Please. The hotel's was atrocious."
"Oh, well don't you worry. Our coffee is award winning. 23rd annual County Fair up in Fargo. Wins it every year."
"Where now?"
"North Dakota."
"Well," John said, impressed, "Set me up with that. I'm dying here."
She poured and then set a sealed glass of water for Tali.
"And water for you. Would you also like coffee, sweetie?"
"Please."
"Right away."
"—And what about you?" Tali said to get them back on track while simultaneously seizing her chance to deflect and pin some questions on him, "Commander Shepard without a woman? How's that figure?"
𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰'𝒎 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖.
Still drawing a blank as to what he wanted to say, he carefully brought the mug up under his chin so he could take in its notes, tongue stuck in a cheek as he sent his stare off to whatever happened to chance his gaze outside.
"…One girlfriend." He managed with what was amazingly a whispering squeak before sipping. "…Had."
Whatever they were brewing here was magnitudes better than what he had at the hotel. Rich. Full. Complex.
"Oooo. Do tell."
"Years and years ago." He said flatly, eyes never finding her, "Was never serious."
"Oh no." She covered her mouth, feigning sadness before leaning in close, completely interested in whatever passed as his love life, "What happened?"
"Career." He said truthfully.
"What was her name?"
"Alice Grant."
"What was she like?"
"A pain in my ass."
She let out a small belly laugh. "Did John Shepard finally meet his match?"
She could see some words mouthing their way to his tongue, but they died before they could ever be said.
Funny. She'd finally found a button capable of embarrassing him.
"Very funny. All is fair that you pick me apart since I asked first." Was what he finally uttered before sitting upright, "Christ, Tali. I'm gonna need a drink if I keep spilling details like this."
"They do have mimosas." She suggested, drawing up a serpent like smile.
A sarcastically unimpressed stare was all John could give.
Their waitress came back and set down Tali's coffee before bringing up her pen and pad. "What'll it be?"
"Ham omelet's looking pretty good to me."
"And for you, sweetie?"
"The number one, please."
"Breakfast burrito. You picked right. It is our quarian favorite."
A smile and she left with their order. Silence with John staring out the window now much like had earlier. The sun hitting his iris mesmerized her. The gaze was piercing.
"I'm digressing, but you ever have one of those moments where you really take in all the existentialism you can and… focus on the circumstances you're surrounded by?"
An introspective cloud descended, and her smile turned pensive.
"Of course."
He stared at the dirt encrusted pane and the ceramic flowerpots dangling just outside.
A crooked grin grew. "I'm about to eat an omelet. With a quarian. Never would've thought. Life's weird."
"Life's weird." She echoed.
"Feels normal though. Here, I mean. With a girl. Er—you... a quarian. Wait, no—" The face he had did not look pleased with himself. "Christ, that was terrible. Let me try again: Being here. With you. It's... nice."
She knew what he was trying to say and she felt her heart start pounding.
Ugh.
She hated it when it did that.
"Keelah. You're such a creep." She said, managing to put up an act.
"Ah, damnit."
Hand on his, she gave it a pat because it was an excuse to touch him. "Commander Creep."
A pinched nose. "Stop. That's awful."
"Creepy Commander."
A facepalm now, Tali giggling.
"Laughing at my expense." He mumbled through his hand, "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Stop compromising my dignity."
"Fine." She cooed, "But only because you're my favorite creep."
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The S'jet Esplanade. It's where they happened to be wandering toward since breakfast.
A couple blocks down and a random escalator descending to the subsurface depths of Zakera, the plaza they'd chanced upon was a sprawl of commerce and wonder.
The place, plainly, was huge. Extravagant too. Vaulted ceilings adorned with projections mimicking the shimmer of water, its reflections adorning the floor with an ever-changing aura of patterns. Massive aquatic tanks made up most of the walls and formed the bulk of the esplanade's theme.
The things you saw swimming defied easy classification. Fish, or at least things that looked like fish, came in a staggering array of shapes and sizes.
John had never been all that interested in ocean life, but he could hardly ignore the sight his eyes had been enjoying as they finally stepped off the escalator to look around.
"Sure is something." He uttered, gaze held up high as he watched bioluminescent beings pulse with soft colorful light.
Tali, openly dumbfounded, watched schools of tiny, crystalline creatures, moving perfectly in unison, forming complex geometric shapes that shifted and reformed with hypnotic precision.
"Huh."
John too ogled the sight himself. The variety here was stunning. Creatures no larger than a dime darting between the tentacles of a behemoth that could swallow a car whole. Some seemed to phase in and out of visibility, while others reflected the light in ways that made them appear to be made of living metal or fire.
They began to walk slowly down its length, heads held over the view.
Hands in his pockets now on their leisurely stroll, John's mind lollygagging under the bliss.
"You sure you didn't plan this?" She asked with a squint, "This feels premeditated."
"I swear on my life, I only planned breakfast. I'm wandering around as much as you are."
She wanted him to admit it might've been something more. Like a date. But it never came. A few paces in and she couldn't help but prod.
"Hmph. I guess so." She said all cutesy, "Hard to imagine you electively taking the time out of your day to go out and enjoy something like this."
An even bigger smirk set between a scoff and a laugh coming from him. "I know how to enjoy myself." He stated matter-of-factly, "Just look at this place. The shops. And the, uh… the fish."
A serpentine creature floated by, its side-eye staring into his soul as if it could sniff out what sounded like a poorly rehearsed lie.
Passing by a storefront, she pointed with an open hand to everything out on display.
"Sure, but it's really hard to imagine you buying scented candles."
"…I like scented candles." He said squarely.
"Prove it." She quipped, stopping and tilting her head to the ornamentation, "Buy one."
A shifty eyed glance and a hand holding his neck, he approached the display and took one of the things into his palm. Tali only stood from where she was and crossed her arms, hip sticking out, waiting for him to break.
He sniffed the first. It smelt of pine. Far too strong for the taste he didn't have. He went for another random pick and, this time, peaches. And… notes of something creamy?
Yuck.
He made a face and subtly put it back.
"What's wrong, John. Not a fan?"
"Maybe I'm more of a vanilla kind of guy." He reached for another. Lifting the lid, he took a whiff and nodded somewhat approvingly. When he turned around, he saw her snapping a pic of him.
"Uh. What are you doing."
"Saving this moment," Tali said lightly with a soft sigh, "John in touch with something other than a gun. It's beautiful."
But then his watch went off and looked down to see it off in their group chat with superimposed text. It was him caught mid-sniff.
'Something for the Normandy? :o' -TZ
GV has hearted the image.
'Get marshmallow fireside?' -KA
John's eyes went flat and he looked up. "You didn't."
"Oopsie."
Shelving the jar with an unimpressed eyeroll, he walked past her and opened his hands defeatedly.
"You got me, Tal's. I ain't a candle person."
"I think I gathered that." She said, not bothering to hide the smugness on her face, "All this time, and not once have I ever seen you with a hobby."
"...Don't have one." There was resignation tucked between a small sigh, "Spare time ain't exactly in the repertoire for Alliance SOF. One accountable for a frigate full of people, no less."
She frowned, a small twitch in her brow. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He said simply. There was soon a chuckle, though short-lived, that escaped him as he began walking a bit slower now. "Irony though, is that I've had more time for myself since becoming a Spectre. Can you believe that?" His eyes wandered off, distant, "I felt like I was pushed harder in the Alliance."
John never said it, but that was all intended by design. The Alliance had effectively become a supportive liaison to Shepard, the Normandy, and her crew. Only through bureaucratic technicalities did they maintain any formal connection to the Alliance chain of command. The paper said it was all a jointed effort, which was technically true— but that was more a political front than anything else. In reality, it was the Council to whom he truly answered to. With it, an arrangement of unprecedented autonomy.
The degrees of freedom he'd been afforded? The learning curves early on in their fight against Saren was significant. It almost felt reckless the level of sovereignty he'd been granted with all the tools they'd issued upfront for his disposal.
Silence followed in the wake of what he said and only lingered in the quiet between them.
There was a level of oddity to it all—that even with all his accolades, all his accomplishments, John was still a man accustomed to the grind. Free time was still, in a lot of ways, a foreign language he hardly had the patience to learn.
It wasn't disappointment she felt hearing his musings. She felt something more complex than that. Something that plucked a sad string.
They continued their unhurried trek, John casting an idle glance her way. "…I'd imagine it's largely the same for you back home."
That had her thinking about all the years leading up to pilgrimage. And about how much of that time had been spent immersed in earning a doctorate. Penciling in time to procrastinate wasn't really feasible then. But here? Aboard the Normandy? She was given something unexpected—time to dally. She didn't take it for granted. Rediscovery of old pastimes had become one of her favorite things to do after shift.
"Not exactly." Tali started, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Back home, things were... different."
"More rigid?" John asked, hands still stuffed in his pockets, his eyes scanning their surroundings as they walked.
"Mm, you could say that." She gave a small nod, glancing over at him. "Routine to follow. Expectations to manage. Every hour was accounted for. Between studying, training, and prep for my pilgrimage... it was all pretty focused."
John chuckled lightly. "Sounds like a lot for what ends up being a giant scavenger hunt."
She smiled faintly. "Ha."
He nodded, the sound of their steps mixing with the hum of the surrounding ambience. "So, now that you've had the chance to breathe a little, what's filled up the space?"
She glanced at him and they both dodged a couple who'd suddenly stopped to check their omni-tools, weaving through the mild crowd that had gathered around a food kiosk.
"Honestly?" Tali hesitated for a second, letting the memories of recent days filter through. "I didn't realize how much I missed having time to just... unwind. To do things that don't involve working."
John grinned. "You mean you don't relax by running diagnostics in your spare time?"
Tali laughed softly. "Believe it or not, no. As much as I love it, I do like being... mindless."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And that 'something' is?"
They paused for a moment at a crosswalk, waiting for the traffic to clear. Tali folded her arms lightly across her chest, the flicker of passing skycars reflected in her visor.
"Movies," she finally answered with a casual shrug. "But you already knew that. And it's... about the only thing I've ever kept up with. I know it's not much, but it's something."
He simply nodded and they kept walking.
"Do you even know what you—"
She realized he wasn't walking beside her anymore. It wasn't until she glanced beside her that she noticed his absence. Frowning, she stopped and turned, only to find him standing a few paces behind, his attention fixed on a different storefront they'd passed.
She watched for a second longer before quietly finding a place next to him.
"What is it?" She asked simply, staring at the intricately detailed model ships suspended behind the glass.
"…You ever think about what it'd be like if things were different?" He said quietly, a smile barely pulling against his expression.
"Two existential thoughts in one day?" She bristled, "What's got you so worked up?"
"I've had a lot of time to think." He said with a shrug, "So?"
"What?"
"If you chose differently, the things in your life." He rephrased, "Where do you think you'd be?"
"…Our lives are the culmination of our choices. Big and small." She offered.
His usual guardedness simmered away and his gaze, usually so intense and focused, softened in a way she hadn't seen before. He stared again at the tiny fleet.
"When I was a kid, I used to build these. Frigates. Cruisers. Dreadnaughts." He swept his gaze across the replicas.
"What happened to them?"
"No idea," he said, a hint of disappointment creeping in. "Seeing these just… reminded me how much I wanted to be a shipbuilder back then." A faint smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes held a trace of sadness. "I had all sorts of plans, you know? Never thought I'd end up here." He glanced at her, holding her gaze for a beat longer than usual before turning back to the display. "Life doesn't always go the way you think it will."
His smile eventually waned into something small and his brow furrowed just slightly. "But… I can't say I regret how things turned out."
"Not even a little?" She murmured.
"Maybe a few what ifs. Who doesn't." He admitted, "That doesn't mean I'd change anything now. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten to do all the things I've done. Wouldn't have seen the places I've seen."
A convincing imitation of the SSV Jakarta took his focus and his voice dwindled into a murmur.
"Wouldn't have met… people like you."
The stare they shared after had her heart melt.
"I'm the luckiest man alive," he said faintly, "Don't think I'm in a position to complain."
She leaned down slightly, resting her hands on her knees, angling herself to catch a glimpse of his face amidst the rows of miniature ships. What she saw made her heart flutter—more than it usually did. Gone were the titles, the bravado, the valor that seemed to define him. There was no Spectre here, no commander. Just John. A simple man, revealing the quiet weight of an unfulfilled dream and the unpredictable path his life had taken.
She knew all too well that life rarely unfolded the way anyone predicted, and John was no exception. Still, there was something poetic about it—the boy who once dreamed of building ships had grown into a man commanding one. Maybe having a small piece of that past, a keepsake, would remind him of the path that ultimately led them all here. It was an interesting twist of fate.
She was glad it turned out the way it did.
"…Come on," she said softly, straightening up. "Let's pick your favorite."
He weaseled out a bashful laugh, eyes crinkling at the edges. "You gonna snap another picture of me?"
"No." She stood, smiling, their moment settling warmly into a permanent memory. She hesitated, giving a small, almost sheepish shrug. "…Maybe just one. For me."
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Present time.
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In that fleeting moment, it all came rushing back to her—the memory of that quiet day with John, the model ships, the unspoken tenderness between them. It washed over the woman, grounding her in the present.
She tightened her grip just slightly on Juel's shoulder, her smile firm but warm.
"We're going to the Citadel," she said with resolve, "And we're getting you a new arm."
His gaze found a corner where the shadows stretched the longest. For a while, he didn't say anything, lost in a quiet that seemed to deepen the space between them.
Leaving the Migrant Fleet. That sounded like a dream. This was a rare chance to break free from the limits of the box he called home. Old traumas surfaced and he couldn't ignore the pull of what he'd tried burrying for so long. If there was ever a time to try again, it was now.
Tali, still seated beside him, hand still on his arm, watched him take a breath. It was hesitant, as though something had been gnawing him.
"Tali…?"
"Hm?" She tilted her head slightly.
"…I want to see if I can find her again."
Her hand stilled. "Serah?" It came out softly, almost like a question she already knew the answer to.
A single nod, eyes searching for something intangible. "Yeah."
Searching his face, she figured there was no harm in at least trying. Leaving the flotilla did present them with the opportunity, she supposed. "…Alright."
He exhaled, his shoulders sagging as if relieved to finally say it aloud. "Thank you."