Sentry the Defiant

“Did what you could, Shepard; am aware Dalatrass put you in difficult position,” he said easily, shaking his head once from side to side. “Have spoken to her myself, since. Her anger…” He sniffed dismissively. “Considerable. But nature of Reaper threat increasing in severity by the day. Even politicians incapable of ignoring extreme necessities now.”

"Something to drink?" she asked him instead, gesturing vaguely at one of the passing waiters. "I have a tab open with a considerable discount. One of many perks of having the staff terrified of me. Order whatever you like."

He didn't drink, and she likely knew that by now. "Water is fine." Good for the body, good for the mind, and hopefully good enough to take the edge off of the throbbing at the base of his skull. He knew it was no mere migraine that could be assuaged with hydration, but it never hurt to try.

His posture was more rigid than hers, always alert and straight. Military through and through, it was more habit than actual personality. No one would be mad enough to make a move on either of them, but a healthy dose of paranoia never hurt.

His eyes glinted thoughtfully. There was a distinct sense in the back of his mind of a weight having been lifted. The genophage had been the right choice at the time he had worked on it. But it had followed him ever after, a reminder of his impact on the galaxy, for better and for worse. And now it was gone.

"Took me to Tuchanka hospital; treated me as best they could. Interesting role reversal. Have returned to Sur’Kesh to monitor cure progression, however. Improvements already marked; anticipate increase in viable births among krogan females within two months."

"Don't have a doubt in my mind, Mordin. Just wish I had a chance to warn you about the Dalatrass sooner." He shrugged. The ordeal was over, and the results were now much more favorable with Mordin revealed to be still alive. Of course, whether or not the professor would recover soon enough to be of any more use remained to be seen. 

Aria leaned back on her couch with a contented smirk, eyeing Shepard up and down as he approached. “A pleasure to see you again, Commander.” There was only the slightest hint of irony in her tone. “Especially since I find myself stuck in Purgatory yet again.”

She hated how accustomed she had grown to keeping an ear to the ground on the Citadel. Bray was keeping her apprised of the repair work on Omega, and the station was hers again…and yet necessity still kept her from it, and that grated. But Shepard’s arrival was a welcome bit of amusement, as it always had been.

"Have a seat, tell me the news," she told him, with an absent wave of her hand. "Distract me from this place’s pathetic soundtrack."

He also wished, fitting as it was, that she had chosen a new place to reside rather than the booming club that was Purgatory. His head ached on a daily basis already, and the music only served to make it worse. Jaw clenched, nerves already working away, Alex regarded Aria with his usual expressionless face as he sat across from her.

He could tell Shepard was surprised to have received the call; it was evident in the tone of his voice as he answered. “Apologies for unexpected contact. Would have made call earlier; was not in physical condition for conversation until fairly recently. Injuries following Shroud destruction…extremely problematic.”

He was far from being in good condition, that much was obvious. He admitted to himself in private that he had come to lean on the salarian during their investigation of the Collectors. In fact, he had visited the doctor so much that his motives were called into question. It had taken him several seconds to realize what Mordin had been referring to, and the memory still brought a small smile to his lips when no one was looking.

His head was pounding, his eyes were aching and lined with dark shadows, and nearly every fiber in his being wanted nothing more than to give up, but he had somehow managed to bring himself this far and he would be damned if he fell now. So here he was, hopped up on as much caffeine as EDI would allow him, and wondering if this was some sort of hallucination.

The broken model ship, however, helped put things in perspective.

But he could still speak — and that was good, because he had more than one important call to make. His survival had been kept fairly quiet for reasons of STG security — not to mention a livid Dalatrass — but a few people could be allowed to know. And Shepard… well, Mordin had no intention of keeping Shepard in the dark.

"Professor Mordin Solus calling, Alex."

The model dropped to his desk, breaking in several places as Sentry brought up his omni-tool, eyes wide with disbelief. Mordin was dead, he saw the Shroud explode with his own eyes. And yet...

Had to be me...

The VI chimed again softly, the salarian's name clearly displayed on the screen, just above a little icon of an old world telephone. His heart was pounding, his mind swarming with questions and theory.

                She was, after all, rusty when it came to communication.

        Now, on the Citadel, fate had decided that she would once again come across Shepard rather abruptly. Quite literally bumping into each other. She made a startled gasp, but was not thrown entirely off balance, looking up quickly to meet the eyes of the Normandy’s Captain and CO.

He almost never smiled, and he didn't now. 

"Nice to see you again," he cursed mentally, fairly certain that he was only truly good at conversation if there were guns pointed at him, or if lives were at stake, "I didn't expect to be seein' you again so soon. What brings you to the Citadel?" He thought about turning around and walking away, but what good would it do? For all he knew, his re-surging feelings for Samara were unknown to her. Or perhaps ignored.

He stood beside her, and a step back – a show of deference for the Justicar he assumes her to be. He nods his head, politely and with no smile at all. He is plain of face and body, under the Citadel lights so different from the low and slow pulsing reds of Omega. The bright white, false Summer day did nothing good to his cut, distinct features.

He always saw the woman she was impersonating to be breathtaking in her fluid grace, not unlike fictional goddesses of war that filled ancient texts. He mentally chastised himself for the thought, forcing his mind to clear with a method the object for his affection had taught him herself...he loathed the irony.

It had grown commonplace really; narrowly escaping Reaper pursuit, killing wave upon wave of husks, cannibals…the occasional squad of Cerberus soldiers. 

So when he received word that Admiral Hackett had urgent news, he was expecting something along those lines. How wrong he was…

"Admiral," Sentry greeted, snapping a salute to the hologram as it faded in and out of focus. Something felt wrong, something was terribly wrong, he just knew it, "Somethin' I should know?"

"Shepard, this…this isn’t easy to say." The admiral’s face was contorted into a look of pained knowledge; with so much weighing on the Commander’s shoulders, it felt wrong to be adding to it. "Your mother’s ship has been confirmed KIA by Reaper forces."

Sentry paled immediately, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists before they went lax once more. “Survivors? Maybe they missed her escape pod-“

"Shepard…Alex…your mother died protecting innocent lives from a fate worse than death. When this is over, we’ll see to it she is buried with full honors."

He wanted to lash out, to slam his fists on the console in defiance, but he knew that wouldn’t bring her back. His head screamed with pain as both augments and his implant pulsed with stress, but he fought to keep his face straight. 

"Understood, Admiral. Shepard out."

"Shepard-" The connection was severed with shaking hands, tears silently dropping onto the console. He knew there would be casualties…but he had prayed his mother wouldn’t be among them.

Not that it mattered.