Dealing with Loss (Part 2)

I said you can call me John.

John.

Her mind came back to this moment after a couple of days; a couple of days of trying to bury everything under a sense of duty and priority. But the engineering deck was running a smooth operation, and eventually it came to a point where she was just, as a force of habit, trying to find things to do. Or…trying to find things to do to keep herself from writing the apology letters to the families of those who died in her place on Haestrom.

Was the objective success truly worth losing so many? Aren't the lives of an endangered race more valuable than some codex entry about stars blowing up? How is she going to tell them? How is she supposed to deal with her friends having died?

She doesn't have the answers; she doesn't know what is 'right' anymore.

But what else is she to do? Burying herself in engineering wasn't viable at this moment, so that Quarian work ethic isn't a convenient distraction.

She slowly walks with her hands behind her back through the main hall of the engineering deck, taking in the sight of the cargo bay.

Then she takes a ride through the elevator, then she finds herself through the mess hall observing what the humans liked to eat; her leaning over and trying the best she can to view their plates without bothering them. Though with Cerberus operatives who were far less trusting of Aliens, some of them gave her evidently dirty looks; but she was so used to receiving this from everyone that she felt nothing about it, nothing but just being tired.

She found herself in the quiet observation deck where the Asari Justicar usually meditated, but she wasn't here this time; instead Tali was gazing out at the Galaxy of stars, a sight so used to being seen by her people, her hand pressed against the glass. The stars, like a moving canvas, slowly slid across the black sea as the ship moved, like the drifting Flotilla.

Like her.

And so she drifted on through the echoing halls of the stealth frigate, through the elevator, until suddenly she found herself in front of an unfamiliar door. What drew her here?

'…if you need to talk, the door has and will always be open to you.'

Oh yeah.

She eyed the door from bottom to top, and then to the door panel. She hesitantly waved her hand in front of it, not knowing if the door will allow her through or not. She didn't want to be awkward about it, but to whom? No one was here to see her make an oopsie, but…keelah, I overthink everything. So she hovered her finger into contact with the open key. In that moment, a familiar voice went:

"Id recognized: Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, access granted."

"Oh, thanks…EDI…" she responded. She, a Quarian, still felt off about the A.I. shamelessly put into use on a ship, from a group that had attacked the fleet once. Now it was opening doors for her…

But…Vas Normandy? Was that change in I.D. status EDI's influence, or did Jo-Shepard make that change? It feels…

The door slid open in 3 directions with a hiss and she retracted her fingers. Taking a good, cautious look inside, she didn't find Shepard anywhere yet but found the short hall with the blue glow of a fish tank. She stepped one of her three toed shoes in, then after delay the next, analyzing the new environment. This cabin was roomy, owing to a lot of unused space that Quarians like herself were not used to.

To her right was an office space with a desk, a terminal and a chair. Visually above it was a display case of numerous model ships, and on the other bend of the table was, to her unsurprise, a pattern of paperback books. She turned her visor back to the fish tank, curious of what kind of life Shepard was keeping, but found there was…no fish in the fish tank. Kind've a waste, but maybe Cerberus just added it optionally anyway. It isn't practical to have on what is essentially a warship, but I guess it could be seen as a private vessel now.

She was still staring at the emptiness of the tank until she reached the edge of the stairs, that is until she heard a soft, deep voice acknowledge her presence.

"Tali."

Thus came Joh-Shepard…from a half square couch he was sitting on, no hint of surprise in his voice, just acknowledgement almost like he was expecting her. This drew her attention, and from the distance and short staircase, she had an overlap view of what he was doing. In his hands, and extended to his table, were small pieces of the parts of a model ship, which even unassembled, her knowledge of engineering lent her to recognize it was parts of a Quarian Heavy Cruiser, especially when its partial construction on a stand on the table began forming the unique vertical ring pattern toward the stern.

After this acknowledgement, he went back to slowly and meticulously painting the small parts with a narrow brush of what he held in his hand to best mimic the effect of the ship in real life.

"Shepard!" She went. "You're here!" She suddenly realized how stupid that sounded. "I mean…of course you're here."

Shepard stopped his work for a moment at the mention of his surname, and gazed upon her, as she paused in place. Between the two of them, there was a brief lock of the eyes, which he could tell from the glow beneath the visor, until she nodded and dipped her head down in humility, not wanting to discomfort his privacy. This gaze he gave was one of expectation, but her breaking of the lock prompted him to word it out in a soft soothing tone:

"Come in."

Again she nodded, wrung her hands together and slowly stepped one foot in front of the other down the stairs. Instead of reengaging this eye contact, her attention started being grabbed by other things.

"Nice place you have."

"Eh...it's okay," was all that Shepard replied with, before resuming his hobby.

"A fish tank without fish?" Tali said, looking back toward the object of mention. "You don't think it's a waste of space?"

"Not something I asked for," he replied. "Between work and my preferred hobbies, feeding fish isn't really in my constitution."

"But building model ships is?"

"Yep…exactly."

Tali continued to gaze around. "Wow…not even Fleet Admirals live with this much space." She then noticed a distinct space over a drawer where she saw a tray with brownish clear liquid, with a couple of small empty glasses, and over the bottle was a label. "Huh…" She leant in, squinting her eyes but the human language was not understandable. "Translator isn't converting this to Khelish script for some reason…"

"Tennessee Whiskey," Shepard said.

"…w-Whisk—ey?"

"You know, Alcohol."

"OH!" She let out. "I didn't know you drank alcohol."

"Didn't," he put. "I do now, though."

For a second, her introspection became clear to her why. "Oh." She then let out in response. Shepard laid the piece he was working on down for the paint to dry, but stopped working any further, reciprocated the paint brush as well, and just gave a silent, soft gaze at the Quarian who was looking around at everything but him. "So many shelves. Do you even need this many?"

But he didn't answer. Though, she did not acknowledge this and went on to note the next thing: "Bed looks comfy, and roomy." Then the next: "A sound system? What kind've music gets played on here?" and the next: "Oh, a star lookout! That seems nice…"

"Tali."

She was snapped out of her distractions, and only then did she turn it toward Shepard.

"Sorry…Shepard, I just…kind've wandered up here with nothing to do."

Shepard slowly pushed himself up off of the couch.

"What did I tell you?" He asked. But Tali was at a loss of what Joh-Shepard…damn it, was saying. He slowly moved past her toward the bottle of liquor on the cabinet. "I said you can call me John."

Then Tali, wide eyed, had forced herself to realize: "Oh…I'm sorry…John…"

Deep down and almost to a degree of unrecognition, John felt his heart skip a beat, but he refrained from externalizing it. Instead, he leant down and opened the cabinet and grabbed something that was just invisible from Tali's sight behind his wide v-frame, to which she only just realized that he was wearing a Tank-Top that showed an unreasonably high amount of his mammalian skin. Now her heart had skipped a beat, and a heat rushed to her face, though she couldn't take her eyes off of it for some reason; to a Quarian, the show and the sight of skin was especially embarrassing to be seen on anyone, and particularly to this human male which she was…

Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted when he turned around and she instead noticed the glass in both his hands. "I got something." He said, then approached her and held it out to her.

"This is…?"

"Turian brandy, for you," John answered, and then a smirk crept up the corner of his mouth. "…and for Garrus if you wanted to share."

She let out a light laugh, before taking it into her hands. "Of course not. Thank you, but you didn't have to."

"I didn't," he said. "Think of it as a bad habit from me to you. Just don't get too carried away with it, Miss vas Normandy."

Tali laughed again, "No promises." She looked down at the bottle, and made a gentle realization. "…vas Normandy…I assume you had that changed in the logs?" She looked up again to see that John had been fiddling with the Whiskey bottle and had poured himself a small amount.

"I figured it would have sentimental value," he said, putting the cap back onto the bottle, gripping the glass with his fingertips and turning towards her. "Unless you prefer vas Neema?"

"NO, no…it…feels right," she said. John quickly downed his shot, set the glass back on the tray and strode back to his original seat.

"Good." He said, and once he sat back down: "Now I know you didn't just come up here for

Tali sat on the edge of the bed, where she set down the bottle, then placed her three fingered hands on her suited knees. She had to think of what it was she was trying to say, and she had to force it out as she was afraid of burdening him, like she burdens everyone.

"I…how...um…" Tali stuttered. John just leant forward, his elbows on his knees, attentive. "Have…you ever had to write an apology letter?"

"You mean…" John then fell back and crossed one leg over the other. "…notifying next of kin?"

"Yeah, that."

"No." Shepard said, plainly. "Nothing in words, at least. The Navy had Officers that specifically did that. It would just be burdensome, so they would have people who are psychologically focused on taking the burden, while soldiers kept soldiering."

"But nothing in words?"

John nodded at this. "Remember Williams' funeral?

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "How could I forget?"

"Made a choice to face down her sisters directly," he said. "I figured they deserved an explanation. The youngest one slapped me. The oldest held her back and apologized…" then there was a short uneasy silence in ponderance of the moment between the two. "I'm assuming this has to do with Haestrom?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Am I really that transparent?" Instead, John said nothing, but just eyeing her, expecting more from her. "It's just, the Admirals expect me to notify the families. Every. Single. One."

John, though not shocked over the Admiralty Board's incompetence, yet still was disappointed with what he heard, closed his eyes and shook his head, muttering under his breath: "Bastards…" Especially after attempting to scapegoat their failures on her.

"I've been trying drafts, but I keep…stopping myself. It's just what should I say to them?"

"If you were to ask me?" John shifted in his seat. "I would just keep it short and simple. A soldier's heart has no room for that emotional baggage, especially with everything else that's expected of us."

"NO, that…I can't do that…at least, not for all of them." She stood up from the edge of the bed and crossed her arms. "Some of those people I even considered friends, some I knew going back to my teenage years. It isn't right to treat their memory like a template."

"I see…" John nodded. "Maybe you should start with those people. Here, sit." He said, scooching over and gesturing to the seat in question. "Bring it up. Let's go over it."

She looked upon this; she wanted to object, to not impose on his time he could be building model ships; but she was…gravitating toward him. She wanted to sit next to him. So she dropped her arms from crossover, walked over, and did exactly that. She then brought up on her omni tool the text application expanded the screen so that both could see.

"It's in Khelish script," she said. "You'll have to connect to my application to translate it into human."

John chuckled. "That would be 'English' for me."

"Learn something new every day."

After he brought up his Omni tool and portal-connected, John read the first draft that came up.

"Let's see here…'Shuna'Ghim vas Neema…"

"Yes, her…"

"To Raala'Ghim vas Neema, I am sorry to inform you of the passing of your daughter. We were close friends and-" John spoke no further, for it was where it was cut off. "And what?"

"I don't know what else I should say."

John slid his lips across each other, then an idea came to mind. "Tell me about her."

"Shuna? Keelah…we were friends on our child ship, and it was just by coincidence that we happened to be on the Neema. She completed her pilgrimage before me, well because I was hitching a ride with you and THAT was a fiasco in and of itself, but she told me she went to Omega and salvaged some parts. There was a lot less expected of her. On the Rayya, she was always talking about something; all I ever cared about was duty or whatever my father wanted. But she cared about culture; dance, music and theatrics. I mean I was curious about our past myself, but she really seemed to want to be a scholar of it all. She cared more about it than engineering or soldiering. Honestly, most of my own interest in our heritage was actually because of her. She showed me just how exciting it all was. She really embodied it all; I mean, you should've seen her perform the grass dance. Heh…I remember one of her big statements was that whenever we took back Rannoch, the first thing she would do is build up her immune system just so she could learn how to play wind instruments like our ancestors did. A part of me now…wishes to carry that on, that maybe I could play the Men'aea in her place, like she would've wanted. Do all the dances that are hidden in some archive somewhere on the homeworld, read the other sagas of King Sol'Shemos. Shuna, she…" Tali just shook her head. "She wasn't as brave as the others. Because she wanted to live to see all her wishes come true. But on Haestrom, when it came to it…she left the room I was in to defend me. She made that choice. She hesitated, yes…but she committed to it, all just to save me." Tali's three fingered hand tightened up and she was holding back a tear from coming to her eye. "She…was a great friend. I'm thankful for having known her."

"She sounds like she was," John said, softly. "Maybe you should tell her everything you told me. Her mother, I mean. I'm sure she would appreciate a fond memory." Tali just gazed at John in awe, whom had returned a soft smile. Never ceases to amaze his clever ways of introspection. He gestured his head toward the key pad. "C'mon, write that down."

She sniffed, and through tears of fondness, she replied: "Okay; may need to open that bottle of Turian brandy now…"

"Just stay conscious, Miss vas Normandy."

They went through the list, and Tali had a trip down memory lane for those friends. It became what preoccupied their time, the model ship be damned. Eventually the emotions and the consistent writing got the better of the alien girl and she fell asleep. John, the gentlemen he thought he was, carried her over and decided to place her on his bed, and was beginning to make his way out of the cabin as he remembered something he had to do by the next day. Before leaving, he looked back at her sleeping, peaceful form scrunch up on the bed, and with a smirk he activated the panel to shut off the lights.