Content Warning: Science/Genetics. I tried to make it as accessible as possible!

It took everything Shepard had not to race off the shuttle the minute it landed on the Normandy, dragging Garrus behind her. She still had duty to worry about, dammit.

"I'm afraid crew quarters are all we have for you, Primarch," she said to Victus.

"That will suit me fine, and please, call me Victus." The older turian shook his head. "I'll spend too much time looking over my shoulder for Fedorian otherwise."

Shepard looked over at Garrus for his reaction, trying not to look like she was staring at him. Garrus' hand twitched once, as though it wanted to move for hers, and then he looked at Victus. "With respect, sir, you are the Primarch now and should get used to responding to that title."

"I suppose I should, at that." Victus heaved a sigh. "Well. If you'll show me to the crew quarters, I'll head back to the war room and start assessing the overall tactics of our current situation."

"Of course, Primarch," Shepard replied, leading them to the elevator. The ride was, thankfully, a short one. She had to make herself take a slow pace down the hall of the crew deck to the barracks, grabbing the chart on the wall to see which bunks were available. The Normandy was, technically, under strength at the moment, so she scrawled in Victus' name underneath one of the bunks that no one was using. If it had been full, she'd have needed to speak with the crew about making room for him. Miranda had been the one to handle those details, previously, and Shepard idly wondered if she should consider appointing an XO. Would Traynor be up to the job?

Later. She could worry about that later. Shepard pointed out Victus' bunk to him and showed him the basics of the crew quarters. Garrus was loitering in the hallway, doing his best to look casual, as she moved between the galley, the bathrooms, and the lounge areas.

As soon as Victus declared himself satisfied and ready to get to work, Shepard headed back out to Garrus. She knew that she wouldn't be able to be discreet about their relationship anymore, not with everyone who had been on Menae knowing. Still, maybe she could hold on to the illusion of discretion for a few more hours.

"So, is this the part where you tell me to come up to your cabin in fifteen minutes?" Garrus asked in a low voice.

"Hell, no. This is the part where I tell you to follow me up there right now."

"You say the sweetest things, Shepard."

Shepard smiled at him and gave into the impulse to kiss him right then and there. Six months was far too long. Garrus kissed her back, one hand tangling itself in her red hair.

"There you are, I've - Artie? "

Shepard froze. Anyone else, she thought, resisting the urge to groan mournfully. Why couldn't it have been anyone else?

"Artie?" Garrus murmured, his breath still hot against her cheek. "Only your family calls you that."

"Yeah." Shepard turned very slowly, trying to give herself time to get her flaming red cheeks under control. "Hi, Jase. Uh. This is Garrus."

"I remember who he is," Jason said, scowling darkly at her. "What are you doing-"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Shepard interrupted him. Her nerves had been frayed to nothing between worrying over Garrus and the strain of keeping herself out of his arms (until a few moments ago, anyway). She'd hoped to break this to her brother more gently. Too bad for him. "I'm kissing my boyfriend."

"Artie! "

"Would you rather I said my husband?" She heard a sharp intake of breath from Garrus, behind her. She hadn't really been thinking when she spoke those words, and now she'd dug herself into an even deeper hole than before and given herself something that had to be done before she sent Jason away.

And then he'll tell Penelope, and Mom and Dad…

Gah. First things first, Artemis.

Shepard turned around again and looked up into Garrus' bright blue eyes. "Do you want to be?" she asked quietly. "My husband, I mean."

Garrus put his hands on her hips and tightened his grip. "More than anything else in this world," he said quietly. She loved that. Loved seeing how intensely he loved her. And under different circumstances, she'd have unhesitatingly returned that intensity. "But," he continued, raising his voice, "I think both of our families would kill us if we, ah, skipped straight to that part."

"Probably," Shepard said, and indulged herself in one more kiss before she turned around (again) and looked at her brother. Jason was standing there with his mouth open, looking exactly like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

"So yeah, gotta amend that again," Shepard said. "Fiancé. I'm kissing my fiancé. And now, I'm going to go spend some quality time with him."

"Oh my god Artie I did not need to hear that..."

"It's what you get for surprising me!" Shepard took a few steps forward and grabbed Garrus' hand, tugging him towards the elevator. "Don't disturb me for at least..."

"La la la la I'M NOT LISTENING!"

Shepard grinned and pulled Garrus into a tight embrace as the doors closed behind them.

"Thrace. Thrace, you with me?"

Kara groaned, squeezing her eyes shut in defiance of the overhead light. "Vega? Is it time?"

" 'Fraid so," Vega replied. "Salarian and krogan leaders are both on their way, ETA 1 hour for the krogan."

"Frak. All right, thanks." Kara reluctantly drew the blanket aside, swinging her legs out and placing her feet on the cold floor.

"See you there." Only then did Kara notice that Vega was, in fact, shirtless, a towel slung over one shoulder as he exited the crew quarters. Kara leaned her head out to watch him go, noting with some amusement that Ash was doing exactly the same thing.

"I don't suppose the showers are co-ed?" Kara asked.

"Nope."

"Well, frak."

Ash grinned. "What, you didn't get enough from -"

"Hey, I thought we weren't going to talk about that." Her glare had absolutely no effect on Ash, sadly, so Kara just stalked forward to grab soap and a towel.

Clean and somewhat refreshed, she stopped in the galley for food and blessedly strong coffee before going to the flight deck. She nodded her greetings to the others that had arrived before her, but picked a wall to lean against in lieu of making conversation. Kara would never be accused of being overly introspective, but even she needed time to digest things on occasion.

Primarch Victus was the last to arrive, with both Shepard and Vakarian heading to his side when he came off the elevator. A few minutes later, Joker informed them all that the krogan shuttle was about to dock.

Her first thought upon seeing Urdnot Wrex in person was that he was big . Not as big as whatever-the-frak that thing they'd fought on Menae, but still - big. The image had not in any way prepared her for the reality of a broad, tall, muscled being with scars across his face. Almost as surprisingly, that grim face brightened as soon as his gaze fell upon Shepard.

Shepard was grinning almost as broadly as the krogan. "Welcome to the Normandy SR-2, Wrex."

"Why couldn't we have had all this light and space when I was onboard?" Wrex's voice was deep and booming, the kind that would echo through you if he shouted.

"More money in the private sector," Ash quipped as she moved forward, Liara at her side. The five of them - Shepard, Garrus, Ash, Liara, and Wrex - formed a circle, laughter and handshakes passed around and then around again. Kara took some comfort in the fact that she wasn't the only one being excluded from this display of warmth and friendship.

Eventually, they all seemed to remember there was a war on. Shepard straightened herself up and nodded at the Primarch. "Urdnot Wrex, this is the new turian Primarch, Adrien Victus."

"A pleasure." Victus also nodded, hands clasped behind his back.

Wrex just gave a grunt and turned back to Shepard. "So where's this meeting happening?"

"I'll take you both up," Liara offered, with Garrus falling in beside her. "Follow me. Primarch?"

Victus glanced nervously at Wrex, then shook himself as though to clear unpleasant thoughts. "Yes, of course. Hopefully the Dalatrass will be here soon."

"Dalatrass?" Kara asked Vega in an undertone.

Vega shrugged. "Some kind of rank or term of respect for a female salarian. You don't see them often off Sur'Kesh."

Not all that helpful, but Kara was pretty sure that Vega had told her as much as he was confident about, so she let it go.

About half an hour later, the Dalatrass arrived, striding down her shuttle's ramp as though she had just docked with her own ship. "Commander. Where are the others?" Her voice was high and a little unsteady. She didn't look that robust, but it might have just been the green-gray skin tone. Most salarians were green, at least in her experience. With her hood pulled up, it was impossible to tell whether she also had horns.

"Waiting in the conference room, Dalatrass," Shepard replied politely. "Please, follow me."

Kara watched them go with more than a little annoyance. She understood why she'd been excluded, even agreed with the decision. Which didn't help her deal with her feeling of being left out any better.

"So," she said, her voice deliberately bright, "who wants to teach me whatever form of card games you play?"

"Come to papa," Cortez crooned, raking the small set of chips towards him.

Kara sighed in exasperation, picking up his cards. "You were bluffing!"

"So were you."

"Fair," Kara conceded, shaking her head as she gathered the cards together. "If I'm going to reclaim any dignity-"

Vega snorted. "Like you had any to begin with."

Ash laughed, and Kara shot her an annoyed look, shaking her head. "My turn to teach you guys a game."

The elevator doors slid open behind them, and the Dalatrass walked out, her stride brisk and purposeful, not acknowledging the existence of anyone else on the flight deck. She boarded her shuttle, which took off nearly as soon as the door closed.

"Five credits says things didn't go well," Cortez said.

"That's a sucker's bet, Esteban." Vega shook his head. "Well, Thrace? You going to teach us or what?"

"Shouldn't we be going to find Shepard?"

"Nah. Either she'll come down here, or she'll make an announcement," Ash replied. "They might not be done yet, either. Wrex and the Primarch, that is."

"A turian and a krogan negotiating," Vega commented. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"These are uncertain times, my friend," Cortez put in. "C'mon, Kara. Give me a new way to take Vega's money."

"All right, all right," Kara said, picking up the deck and trying to decide which game would be easiest to teach with this unfamiliar set of cards.

A few rounds later (in which Kara did manage to reclaim both dignity and money), the elevator opened again. Shepard came over, shaking her head at the sight of them. "Is this how you spend your free time? Gambling? I'm ashamed of you all."

"Should we be dealing you in?" Ash asked with a grin.

"I wish. I need you up there, Ash. We're heading to Sur'Kesh on a, uh, sensitive mission." Shepard glanced at their faces, then sighed. "There's krogan there in an STG treatment facility. Female krogan that are immune to the genophage. Wrex successfully demanded they be returned to Tuchanka."

"So we're escorting an angry krogan to an STG base to get more krogan? That are probably unhappy about being held by the salarians?" Vega shook his head. "You sure know how to keep things interesting, Commander."

Shepard chuckled wryly, turning to look at Kara. "I know you won't like this, Kara, but I need you to sit this one out. This is a situation complicated by ancient history as well as the recent past. I'm sorry, but there's too much at stake for me to risk it."

Kara stood, cheeks burning in anger and embarrassment. "Shepard-"

"I'm sorry," Shepard said again. "This isn't up for debate, Kara. You agreed to serve under my command, and these are my orders. Vega. You're staying put for much the same reasons."

"Aye, Commander." Vega looked about as happy as Kara did.

"Talk to Jason," Shepard told Kara. "He needs to have more of a clue about what he's getting into over there. What to expect. How he can support your people. You're the best one on the ship to do it."

"What about Lieutenant Gaeta?" Kara knew she sounded a bit petulant, and didn't quite care.

"Getting some much needed rest, according to Chakwas. She said he was one bad day away from a life-threatening infection."

Dammit, was she ever going to stop needing to apologize for what happened to Gaeta? Belatedly she realized that Shepard had no idea of the connection. Probably. Kara let out a long sigh. "Fine."

Shepard grinned. "You're fitting in well already. No one on this ship likes to be told they don't get to be part of the action. Well. Except maybe Specialist Traynor." She tilted her head towards the exit. "So. Ash?"

Ash stood, her face apologetic as she turned her back on the card game. "See you when we get back."

"Try not to start an interspecies war or anything," Vega joked, shuffling the deck of cards. "Ready to lose some more money, Esteban?"

Cortez snorted. " More money? If my memory serves, you're the one that's been losing the last few hands."

"Eh, I was just getting used to the game. Whaddaya say, Thrace? Up for more?"

Kara shrugged. "Got nothing better to do. You boys up for learning another game?"

Before they could answer, the elevator doors opened and Jason Shepard strode out towards them. A quick grin flashed across his face, the smile of a man trying to put the best spin on a disappointing situation. Kara was sure she'd worn that very expression not so long ago. "Heard there was a game of cards going. Mind if I join you?"

"Your sister tell you to come here?" Kara asked, unable to keep annoyance from leaking into her voice.

Jason shrugged. "May have. Regardless, I really don't have anything better to do. So?"

"Sure," Vega and Cortez said in the same moment, sharing a brief look of mock anger before dissolving into laughter.

Kara folded her arms across her chest and considered. "One condition," she said. "I win a round, I get to ask you a question. I know Shep- er, Artemis - wants me to brief you, but I'm still way behind on learning about you guys." She thought a moment more, then sighed. "Same can go for you, I guess."

"Sounds fair." Jason held out a hand, and Kara took it, pleased to find that he had a firm grip. "So, what are we playing?"

"As it happens, one of our games." Kara started walking towards the now-set up table. "Means you won't get completely fleeced when you go over to Galactica."

"See, I'm learning already," Jason replied as he followed her.

Felix Gaeta laid on his soft bed in the infirmary and tried not to feel guilty at how much he was enjoying himself.

Well, enjoying was perhaps not exactly the right word. It was more that - for the first time in far too long - he wasn't in pain, or under stress, or had anything that he should be doing. He was, in fact, under strict orders to lie there and rest up. And Dr. Chakwas had given him more than enough incentive to do just that. She'd promised that, when she found his vitals satisfactory, she'd help him attach the prosthetic and learn how to walk with it.

In an attempt to quash the guilty feelings, he ran through all of the things that he had learned so far. Mostly from the ship's AI, which had left him feeling more than a little uneasy at first. Now? Well, he still didn't necessarily approve of how much of the Normandy was trusted to computers, but he no longer thought of her as a particularly terrifying Six. Despite the tonal similarities in their voices, EDI was like no Six he had ever interacted with.

Mass relays. Gaeta didn't understand the physics, but he thought he understood the general principle of how they took ships from Point A to Point B. EDI had projected a map for him of their various trajectories, at his request, so he felt like he understood the relative position of Earth to the Citadel, and the turian homeworld - Palaven, that was it.

Reapers. He'd thought it was important to try and understand the enemy that they now faced, an enemy more alien than the Cylons had ever been. There was depressingly little concrete information, except from Commander Shepard's encounters with them - and, now, the intelligence that came from whatever forces managed to survive the ongoing attacks. The thing he found hardest to accept was the scale of it all; both the amount of time the Reapers had, apparently, been around for, and the sheer number of ships they could deploy against the various species of the Milky Way. He was out of his depth there, and he knew it; he could think of only one person from the Colonials that wouldn't be, and he despised Baltar more than he'd ever despised anyone in his entire life.

The other species of this galaxy. He'd asked EDI for details on all of them, from the asari to the vorcha and everything in between. He found the asari fascinating on a genetic level, the first time he'd been so engaged in a matter of study since working on the Cylon detector with Baltar. EDI had fetched a handful of systematic reviews for him to read, as well as some of the original papers mentioned in those reviews for further study.

And, finally, when he felt like he'd earned a bit of self-indulgence: genetic variation among humans. He'd learned that despite the variations in skin tones and body types, all humans shared an astounding amount of DNA. He hadn't believed EDI when she told him that humans were considered to have great genetic diversity among the other species; she'd had to pull still more primary research to convince him of that fact.

Gaeta found it both amusing and depressingly familiar to realize that the reason there was such variation was due to discrimination and xenophobia; centuries of people choosing spouses from the same racial and ethnic background as themselves and, in some cases, creating pockets of catastrophic inbreeding. To be fair, humans were hardly alone in such discrimination; there was the turian bias of colony markings, for one. But the main difference there was how recent humanity had begun to colonize other planets and, in turn, be changed by the environments of those planets. (He felt like he could spend the rest of his life studying just those changes.)

The lights in the infirmary began to grow brighter, which was EDI's way of letting him know that someone was coming to visit him. He was equal parts touched and disturbed that she had started doing that.

"Hello, Lieutenant," Dr. Chakwas said, her face bright as she entered, taking a seat at her workstation. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He knew better than to try and get up.

"Glad to hear it. I have an apology to make, first." Chakwas looked slightly ashamed as she said it. "I'm afraid I asked EDI to tell me about what you'd been discussing with her. I should have just asked myself, but I've had - quite a bit to deal with since coming back on the Normandy."

"It's fine, Doc," Gaeta said, even though he didn't quite feel that it was fine.

She nodded, the shame she'd previously shown wiped away under an excited grin and a bright look in her eyes. "She told me that you'd asked a good deal of pertinent questions on the study of human genetics, and, well, I'm delighted to say that's an interest I share. Both on a personal level and as a means of perhaps helping your people get some answers."

"You have answers?" He could hardly credit it, given how much (or, rather, how little) time she'd had with the information.

"Some," Chakwas emphasized, tapping at her computer. "EDI, project this for Lieutenant Gaeta, please."

An image flashed in front of him, something he recognized instantly as a tree designed to show descent from a common ancestor. "This," Chakwas said, "is the most up-to-date version of the mitochondrial DNA phylogenetic tree. Sometime around two hundred, or a hundred and fifty thousand years ago, there lived a woman nicknamed 'Mitochondrial Eve'. She is the most recent common ancestor for all humans in the galaxy. Except you."

It took Gaeta a moment to register that last part, as he was initially too focused on the way the different mitochondrial DNA lines had evolved over the millenia. "Except me?"

"You, Lieutenant Thrace, Mr. Adama, and Chief Tyrol. I secured a sample from Mr. Adama before departing the Citadel. I ran the test twice." Chakwas leaned back in her chair, tapping at her keyboard, and the image shifted. "You don't match any known haplogroups. You're not even close to the oldest haplogroup that still exists among certain peoples of Africa."

The question seemed to come pouring out of his mouth without any conscious thought. "How far back is the split?"

Chakwas shook her head. "I can't tell you that. The samples are too dissimilar. I'd need more data, and more time, to begin to piece together a map of your mitochondrial DNA haplogroups. Data can be gotten, but I fear I can't offer much in the way of time right now."

"I have the time," Gaeta said, trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed - and remembered, almost too late, that he didn't have two legs anymore. He hated feeling this weak. He hated feeling like his body was betraying him.

"That you do," Chakwas said, walking over to help shift him back into a more comfortable position. "If there's anyone in your fleet that you feel has the relevant expertise, we can get a message to that person to start collecting more samples. More than one person would be best. I don't know when we'll be meeting up with them again, but until then, you can study our lineages in preparation."

The blood in his veins seemed to be both freezing cold and icy hot at the same time. It took him several minutes to compose himself, to slow his breathing and stop his hands from clenching into fists. It took him several minutes to overcome his revulsion, to push aside his feelings in the face of overwhelming logic. "There's someone. I don't know if he'll help, but there's someone."

"I hardly expected to see you here," Baltar drawled, looking up into the face of Admiral Adama. "Slumming it among the civilians? Our oh-so-exalted cousins aren't good enough for you anymore?"

Adama ignored the barb, as Baltar had known he would. "I've had a message from the Normandy. From Lieutenant Gaeta."

Baltar felt the color draining from his face. "What does he want?" He was unhappy to hear the shake in his voice. "We didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"No," Adama agreed. "But apparently, he can put that aside in the name of science. Do you still remember how to be a scientist, Dr. Baltar? Or have you thrown that aside in the name of religion?"

There were many answers that Baltar could have given those questions, informed by the myriad of emotions that flowed through him as he considered the situation. Anger. Disbelief. Arrogance. After a moment, they were all shoved aside in favor of cold calculation. He was still a scientist, and he would prove it to Adama and whoever else needed to be reminded. "Tell me more."

Happy N7 day!

I was supposed to have this chapter done months ago. There was a specific date in mind, a date where I knew that not much was going to be done afterwards. I thought I had enough time; after all, I was almost done writing...

... and then my water broke at 38 and a half weeks. I'm pleased to say that the end result was a healthy, happy, and extremely good-natured little girl who's now 4 months old. She's our first, so we're figuring out this whole parenting thing as we go.