Chapter 51: Mourned

Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to BioWare.

Author's Note: This story does not necessarily follow any particular timeline and may not be considered chronologically accurate.

Warning: this chapter contains content which may be considered violently graphic by some readers. The beginning and the end of the associated section are marked with "*CAUTION*" and "*END*", respectively.

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Words were insufficient. When the scientist finally finished speaking, and Cass and Vadix had begun to grasp the presently precarious nature of the known universe, silence reigned. They felt to break it would be to invite the very calamity which they had been discussing.

Liara was the bravest of them in that moment.

"So, you see, this isn't just about any one person or group of people. What Shepard is doing here represents the only chance of future life for us, the only hope we have of avoiding complete annihilation." She trailed off for a moment, pondering the details she hadn't shared with the recruits. Then she began again with a shrug, aiming for a lighter tone. "They say there's nothing like certain death to make you see life more clearly. At the very least, if we die, we can do so without regrets."

Staring at them both for a long moment, Cass thought Liara's expression belonged on the face of an ancient matchmaker whose subjects kept fumbling around each other.

Then she stood from the ground, leaving the pair of them still rather dumbstruck on the training mats, nodded at them each in turn, and left the room.

Regrets?

The term was like a sluice gate, her bad memories and hidden fears roiling behind the temperamental dam. If she thought about them for too long, Cass knew they would all come crashing through to the surface of her mind.

She had to stop it, already overwhelmed today by her feelings for the alien sitting next to her.

"What would you regret?" The question popped out, the first one she could formulate in order to halt the onslaught.

Vadix turned slowly to look at her, his eyes not quite seeing their surroundings. "I'm sorry, what?"

"If the Reapers destroyed everything tomorrow, what would you regret?" Cass knew the question was personal, and perhaps she should have let it go, but now that it had fallen from her subconscious, she wanted to know the answer.

Brow plates frowning, the turian cocked his head in response. "I'm not sure," he murmured hesitantly, looking straight at the wall again.

Now the woman shrugged. "I can wait. No rush."

His head flipped the other direction, allowing her direct view of his neck and jaw. How had she never noticed how purple his hide was? Was it because she only ever noticed his cowl and face? He was significantly taller than she, yet she had never paid attention to the underside of his chin.

What else hadn't she noticed?

The shade of his mandibles was slightly different from the rest of his face, matching the bone color of the scales near the back of his head, beneath his fringe and vertebral ridges. These royal blue spinal plates ran from just beneath his head crest down his neck—would they extend all the way to his pelvis?

She felt her body respond to this errant thought as her eyes wandered over his body.

Although his mass alone should have been terrifying, there was something comforting about his presence. A week ago, Cass would have moved past this realization as fast as possible, but now she pursued the tangential track.

Why did Vadix make her feel at ease?

It wasn't something she'd experienced before, with anyone, no matter how physically attractive they were or how skilled in bed, the gifts they offered or the number of drinks they bought. Why was this man so different?

After all, they were coworkers first—even if she had been instantly attracted to him for reasons she still didn't understand—and then he'd been romantically unavailable, encouraging a purely amicable relationship. And that, in and of itself, had been a first for the human as well.

Not that she hadn't had friends before, of course. She had Anara still, and previously she'd found several acquaintances who had simply slipped away. But Vadix was the first man with whom she had become such good friends.

Then it dawned on her: the two firsts were connected, one likely causing the other.

How had she been blind to it before?

"I think my biggest one would be never committing to colony markings."

Cass snapped her mouth shut, shaking her head at the interruption. A moment passed before she could respond, processing his sentence like her brain was filled with sludge. "Why didn't you?"

The turian shifted uneasily, not meeting her gaze. "I suppose because I felt some irrational tie to my biological parents. But I should have put my adoptive parents first, instead of subjecting them to the secondary shame that came with my decision to wait."

"Have you tried to find them?"

He didn't need her to clarify who "them" was, it seemed. Vadix merely shook his head, and then nodded. "A little, but not much."

She didn't want to pry. But she did. "Do you want to?"

Heaving in a giant gust of air, his slumping torso lifted noticeably and Vadix held his breath for several heartbeats. Then he drooped once more, his arms limp and his breath rushing out desperately. "I don't know."

This time the redhead let the unasked questions remain that way.

Vadix continued, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it, "What if they gave me away because they didn't want to know me?"

Leaning in, Cass couldn't keep from hugging his arm to her—the only part of him she could completely encircle from this side-by-side position. "Oh, Vadix, I'm sure that's not what happened." Tears pricked her eyes, a drop or two slipping from her cheek onto his plated skin.

What was worse: believing your parents might not care for you or knowing early on that they didn't?

"How about you?" The rumble of his question vibrated in her chest, pressed as she was to his body.

She sniffed audibly, postponing her answer. "What do you mean?"

"What would you regret, if we died tomorrow?"

With a sigh, Cass's eyes fluttered closed. Then she took a deep breath and pulled away from her friend, meeting his stare as she did so.

Before she could procrastinate anymore, Vadix cut her off. "If you say 'I don't know', I'll just wait." His smile was teasing and soft.

Her answering grin was chagrined. "I suppose I asked for that, didn't I?"

The turian just shrugged, still watching her with sky clear eyes. His earlier pain was hidden once more.

Cass looked down, drawing absentminded patterns that disappeared immediately. "Right now, I think my biggest regret would be never letting anyone close enough to really know me, the truest me."

She still didn't look at him, but she felt him shift slightly, like he was trying to get a better look at her. Her cheeks flamed at the idea and the redhead ducked her head farther.

"Hey." Like the gentle swaying of a hanar, Vadix reached a hand toward her until he lifted her chin with a knuckle, forcing his intense gaze on her. "I'd like to know the true you, if you'd let me."

Cass couldn't look away.

"My past isn't pretty," she protested, barely audible to her own ears.

His automatic smile was gentle, one of understanding, comradeship—like he had experienced ugliness as well. "It made you who you are today," the turian said simply.

Pulling her chin free, Cass hugged her arms around her chest, unconsciously making herself as small as possible. She was no longer touching Vadix, nor did he try to establish a physical connection again. He let her turn away, watching her carefully.

For the first time, she began to tell her whole story.

"After my mother was taken, I had no one to take care of me. But I was old enough to work—at least I thought I was—and I sought help from one of my mother's coworkers, Fayanna, when she stopped by to pick up Melinda on the way to work the next day. She called in a favor with her sister's husband who managed another restaurant nearby and they got me a job waiting tables.

"I worked hard and made a decent wage, and for the first time my family's income wasn't stretched between the essentials and paying for red sand—since it was only me," Cass trailed off, the first sign of emotion slipping into her voice, arms tightening against the sad memories. But she was determined to carry on, to finish recounting this most wretched story.

"Every night I had the shift no one else wanted, so I started to recognize the regulars. Though it was little more than a dive bar, they were often kind and friendly, and we got to know each other. One man, Wagner, was especially thoughtful. He left the largest tips. And he was always there alone, so I went out of my way to befriend him, worried even then about those who experience loneliness.

"After several months, there was one night that an especially raucous party showed up and got even more drunk. None of them were particularly mean, but they were very handsy," she chose her words carefully, slipping into a whisper. "One of the men tried to touch me beneath the uniform they gave me, but Wagner came to my rescue, almost before I'd realized what was going on. I think I went into shock, I was so distraught after the fact. Wagner must've paid off the manager that night and helped me home, knowing I was in no shape to keep working. I was still only 15 years old."

She paused, sucking in as much air as she could, still averse to reviewing these memories, almost unwilling to share them aloud.

But it was something she wanted to do, needed to do.

And there was no one she trusted to hear this as much as Vadix.

With shaky words, Cass continued, "Except he didn't take me to my home. He took me to his home. I was crying and didn't realize the halls weren't familiar. And then he sat me down on the bottom edge of the bed, rubbing my arms and encouraging me to lean on him for comfort. He kept calling me 'Ana', the way a lover would, over and over. He reassured me that they couldn't hurt me now. When I had some semblance of control over myself, I turned to thank him for his kindness and generosity. And he kissed me.

*CAUTION*

"I was so surprised that I did nothing," she shrugged, numb more than anything at this point, having lived it, knowing it was only going to get worse. "And then he was leaning into me, groping me, using his fingers to unbutton my vest and shirt, and I wanted to get away. I had to get away. But in doing so, I trapped myself between his body and his bed. I tried to crawl out from under him—away, away, away, it was the only word I could think. But he followed. He just kept following me. Until we reached the headboard.

"When I tried to push him off me, protesting if not in coherent words then in actions and mumblings, he grabbed my wrists with one hand and used the other to pull off his tie scarf thing, threatening that he would hurt me if I resisted, telling me that I needed to thank him properly, that he deserved repayment and this was what he wanted, that he'd saved me from those men and he had earned what they would have gotten from me anyway. He used the scarf to bind my hands to the head of the bed. It was pure black and so silky, softer than anything I'd ever worn, something I'd always dreamt of having, but I hated it in that moment."

Cass pressed her forehead to her knees, shaking as she remembered what had come next. The words lodged in her throat, as reluctant to describe this as she was. But someone had to know the truth.

"I should have kicked him, I should have done something, anything, to fight back. But I didn't. I believed him when he said it could be painless if I wanted it to be. I believed him when he said it would be painful if I refused him.

"But he lied. It was painful just the same."

*END*

From the corner of her eye, the woman saw her silent listener move, drawing closer to her. The part of her brain not consumed by the atrocity she recounted realized what he was doing.

"Don't." The word was a command, but its inherent authority had been stripped away by the acid of trauma. "If you touch me right now while I've loosened my grip on these memories—and triggers—I don't know what will happen."

Vadix froze, talons suspended in midair above her curved back, curled as forcefully into a ball as humanly possible. She knew he must want to comfort her. But to be touched while reliving the nightmare that had begun the most hellish years of her life, it would bring no comfort.

After several deep breaths, Cass continued her story, eyes closed as she recalled the frightening fiend she'd believed to be her friend.

*CAUTION*

She would spare no detail now. "With one hand gripping my bared breast, he pushed my skirt up from my knees to my waist before pulling my panties down to my calves. Then he had both hands on my chest, rubbing his erection against me.

"Inside, I was screaming. I was horrified, and I felt so impossibly helpless. For the first time in nearly a year, I wished for my mother back, exactly as she had been. Even though she could barely put food on the table, she did, somehow. And even though she was less than the ideal parent, she would not have let me get into a situation like that, not without putting up a fight.

*END*

"But outside, I did nothing. I didn't do what she would have done. I just let him…" She had to say the word, the word she hadn't even said to the hospital staff. Cass had seen it in their eyes, their knowing looks as they assessed my injuries both external and internal. But she hadn't said it aloud, wouldn't confirm herself as a victim, not like that.

Yet she knew that doing so would be a freedom, in a way. It would be a step, a small step, in the direction of healing, and hope.

Eyes opening, tears spilling onto her cheeks, the redhead turned her head to face the man next to her, planting her cheek against her kneecap. Vadix met her gaze, her own pain reflected back at her in the depth of his empathy.

"I let him rape me," she managed before the sobs broke loose, choking her. Cass could hardly breathe so heavy was the sorrow for her childhood, emasculated by her mother's abduction and executed by her pretend friend's assault.

Without realizing, she reached for Vadix, blinded by the liquid seeping out of her.

But he met her grasping hands with a strong hug, towing her body into his lap. She felt tiny, engulfed by his embrace, surrounded by his strength.

The tears poured as Cass lamented the loss of so many things, until slowly the deafening roar of these damaging memories was dulled by the dawning of a different age. After what seemed an eternity, the human realized that she wasn't alone, that her partner hadn't abandoned her.

He was still there.

And she trusted him implicitly.

True, he didn't know everything, not yet. But he was no deserter, of that much Cass was sure. Not now, not ever.

And someday, maybe soon, he would know everything.