[Citadel, closed] Prodigal Daughters

"Working." The words come quick to ward off any fears. Cour might not be here, but he's somewhere. "He's still with the Lifebearers on the Citadel." A small, dry chuckle follows.

"We've been busy."

Harrad glances back at Laelix, who's still enamoured with the silent, but curious, Kytheria.

"We all made it through. Cakethief, too, if you're wondering. Cour lost his parents, and I... well, we've all lost somebody. And we're alive. Remember the honoured dead, work for their memories, and make the future a better one."

Smiling weakly, he pats Sica's hand. The one still clutching his wrist.

"I'm glad you're not among them, though. ...I'm sorry about Marty."

Sicaria's nodding with relief when she hears that Cour is okay, stroking Harrad's palm in consolation when he speaks of Cour's parents, that for a moment, Harrad's words go right through her.

And then she stops, looks up at him and past him and her eyes are flat and she says, almost distractedly, "What?"

It's a warning, too late, of just how desperate she was. Paranoid and harried and hunted with her daughter's life in her hands, she had not gone on the Extranet. Had not staked out Sniper's Touch. Had not done anything that might give her away, anything that might deviate her from her mission, and that included making contact with anyone else.

She has no idea what has happened to her son.

Sicaria focuses her gaze and reads Martello's obituary in Harrad's expression.

She didn't know.

Harrad's plates go ashen, and he stumbles for words, trying to look away but unable to tear his gaze away from those questioning eyes.

"Marty died in a building collapse. I think. I'm not- I don't really know, it's what Vindi said online, I haven't talked to her myself. I don't know the details. She didn't mention Lucia, I think she's okay. Vindi would have said something if she wasn't."

The man can feel his gizzard knot, and a tremble runs through his body. His hands tighten on Sica's.

"I'm sorry."

Beside the two adults, Laelix quietly bounces Kythera in his arms. The smile's dropped from his face; he's too close to have missed what his father said, but the scene is far too familiar to him by now. He knows to stay quiet, just like the child he's holding.

Sicaria implodes against Harrad, like a house of cards folding in on itself, collapsing against him. Her hand reaches out, takes hold of Laelix even as her shoulder leans into Harrad's. She holds on to the Illums like life preservers, and perhaps they are, because what has animated Sicaria for the past year was a single uncompromising mission: get my baby to Harrad. Duty fulfilled, she casts about, seeking a reason to keep the breath in her body, a justification for her continued survival. Without Martello she feels her grip on this world slipping. She clings to the Illums and she tries to believe their lives, Kythera's life, will be better with her than without her, and she holds to Harrad's forgiveness like a safety net, a single gossamer thread that cradles her safely high over the abyss.

She has no tears; they're swallowed by the void. She has only guilt, that this time she was not there to carry Martello safely home.

Was that his destiny, then, to die in a tunnel? And if that is so, then what does fate have left for her? She no longer hears the Vendetrix' call to....

Oh.

"Where's that wife of his?" Sicaria asks.

Arms wrap around Sica, Harrad's and Laelix's. The boy is careful with Kythera, but he can't help but be pulled into the unexpected embrace. Nobody around the trio bats an eye. Even a year in, joyous reunions and painful news is still the norm here.

The lack of tears doesn't even draw any additional concern from the pilot. He just hugs. Sica's never looked worse, by now she's probably past running on fumes.

"We can spare a room here if you need it," he offers, before she asks about Marty's wife.

"Addy?"

Addy the Hierarchy spy? Harrad's gizzard twists itself to the point of breaking.

"I haven't seen her since the war. Maybe Vindi knows?"

Sicaria nods distractedly. "Yeah, I guess....guess I should go by the old place...check in on Lucia...Vindi...Addy."

She's tired. So very tired. And it didn't take everything she had to make it here. But she still feels an exchange has taken place: her hearth-son is dead. And she, condemned to die, is still alive. It's not a fair trade, but fate plays with a loaded deck.

"I...think I'll take you up on that room, Harrad." She looks up at him, and her eyes are bleary, but she's there again, back, sane--or as sane as anyone could be, considering. "First, got any more soup?"

She needs sustenance. Rest. Maybe then she'll have energy enough to mourn.

"Spirits, it's good to see you."

Funny how it's so hard to accept that Marty's dead when he's just...gone. A lot of people are just gone...Keros, Pia, Cour, Vindi. Some of them she knows are alive, some of them she only believes are alive, but with no body, with just absence, it's easy to imagine them living and well, just out of sight.

"I'll get you more," says Harrad, standing up and making his way back to the kitchen. Laelix, with Kythera still in his arms, takes his father's seat.

"We really missed you," he says. "I know dad was really angry for a while about something, but I'm glad he's glad you're back. Are you going to stay this time? The war's over."

The infant started fidgeting.

"She's really quiet. A lot more than the other babies here. Do you think I was this quiet when I was her age?"

Laelix welcomes her. She doesn't bother to try to explain to him why he shouldn't. She holds him, and looks at Kythera, and allows herself the warmth of family.

"I hope so," she says quietly. "'Long as I'm sure I won't cause you or your dads trouble by staying."

Translation: don't draw the attention of C-Sec or the Hierarchy.

"And no way you were that quiet, Laelix. She's a Sundowner kid...you know how I got a long fringe for a girl, an' how my eyes got grey lines in 'em? It's genetics--folks from Solregit often tend to look a certain way. An' our kids tend to not cry much. Don't mean she's dumb--she's pickin' up on everything--but she doesn't fuss. 'S like a xemna calf--full grown xemna can mess you up bad, but the little ones are small and weak, so if there's danger, they hold really still an' quiet, so the danger can't find 'em."

A wave of dizziness passes through her, but she shoves it away. She wants to have a homecoming before she tumbles into sleep.

"You got a greenhouse here, Laelix?"

Laelix takes another long look at Kythera. Other than the peculiar eyes, and the paint, she's like a normal turian baby, and the boy tries to figure out what makes her a "Sundowner" instead of any other regular turian. He rubs along the girl's cowl as he nods at Sica.

"Yuh huh. They've got one on the roof, but they say it's not so good because of the sun. It moves funny."

Trapped in Earth's orbit and rotating slowly, the Citadel doesn't so much see sunrise or sunset as a long, twisting path past all the wards over the course of any "day". No wonder the lamps out in the greenspace are on at all times.

"They got hydroplantics too, and those work."

"Hydroponics, dear," says Harrad, returning with another bowlful of soup for Sica. This time he makes sure to provide her with a spoon, as well. "We don't grow any grains out here, but it's good for some vegetables and seasonings. And the supplies are coming in. Nothing like Rio."

Laelix nodded. "We lived on earth!"

"Earth's a shithole," Sicaria grumbles as she dredges the bottom of the bowl, then shoves a spoon full of meat and grain into her mouth. Chewing, she swallows and then says, "Sorry, Harrad. Laelix, what was Rio like?"

It's not clear if her apology is for the cussing, the negativity or both.

"I don't think I was anywhere near there."

She slurps down more soup. "I ain't livin' anywhere without dextro food growin' ever fuckin' again. Worse'n the swamps. Hey, once I have a nap and a bath I'll take a look at your farm. Need to do somethin' useful around here and hey, you don't want me cooking." She winks. Pauses. "Sorry, Harrad."

It must be the cussing.

"It's seen better days," Harrad admitted. "You should have been there before the war, you would have been impressed."

"Rio was all smashed up," added Laelix.

The pilot nodded. "It used to be a major military city. It's also got some great weather. I mean, if you're going to live in a sh-torn up town, a place that's close to what Palaven's like isn't a bad choice."

Despite the woman's cussing, Laelix doesn't seem fazed. Then again, the majority of the turians suck in Sol were soldiers on active duty, and as Harrad or Sica could probably attest, their language is a little freer. Being scandalized over a few swear words seems less important that teasing Kythera's mandibles.

"Look! She's smiling!"

Harrad smiled as he followed the direction to look. "She's beautiful, Sica." The smile faded a bit. "I know how much you wanted kids..."

Sicaria's mandibles split in a faint smile as she reaches out and runs a talon over Kythera's stubby fringe. "She saved my life, Harrad." Her mandibles flex. "Might just keep on saving it. I...we weren't planning on having kids, I don't know if Keros will want her...too damn bad for him if he doesn't. She happened anyway, and I'm alive because of it, and I gotta take care of her, Harrad, I gotta look after her unless..."

Her throat closes. "Unless it's better for her without me."

She looks at Harrad and asks, "So, are all these kids here your hearth-children now? Or are you just one of many caretakers, an' if so, how do the kids divide up? I mean, even in a communal place like a clan hall, kids attach to adults."

A thought strikes her. "This really does kinda feel like a clan hall, a little."

Harrad rubbed the back of a talon against Kythera's mandibles and smiled. "Of course he's going to want her. Who wouldn't want a beautiful girl like this?" The fact that Sica was handing her off to him went ignored, to her the decision wasn't likely a choice.

"I've got our soul tags hanging above my bed in the dorm. You said you had a whole bunch hanging up in the hall, right?"

The older man nodded. "Laelix has talked a few of the other kids into making some. It's getting rather colourful. I guess you could call it a hall. I wouldn't call myself a heath, uh, parent, though. We're all responsible for everyone. There's lots of classes, and the kids rotate in and out. Sort of like an extended boot camp. I mean, sure, some kids latch on, but most of them have parents. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Laelix, would it?" Grinning, Harrad reached out and tweaked one of the boy's fringe stalks.

"Heeey. So dad, is Sica staying?" He knew that although Sica could make the choice, it would ultimately be his father's decision.

Harrad looked at Sica, and Kythera.

"What would a great hall be without a Sundowner, mmm? And Kythera'll want her mother. And the kids will like the stories."

"Can't make promises, Harrad." She's not going to have to choose between keeping her word and protecting them. "But I'll try."

She wants to stay, while she can.

"Stories, check. Helpin' with your gardens, check. Watchin' Kyth and the kids, check. Promise not to cook. Or sing."

She offers him a crooked grin.

If this is the only family she has left, it still might be enough.

Harrad smiled. "I can live with that deal. There's going to be paperwork, you know. I'm sure you noticed the cameras and guards around."

The cafeteria seemed void of the latter, but the corners were still rife with surveillance. The man continued:

"We'll get you that room first- don't get attached to it, it'll be a temporary one. There aren't too many private bedrooms here.

"Dad and pops have one," Laelix thought to chime in.

"And so do a few of the other married couples here. If Keros comes back and decides to stick around, I'll see what we can do." Harrad tilted his head, "So where is he now?"

"Hell if I know," Sicaria mutters. "He's black ops, Harrad. I didn't know where they sent him, I didn't know what he was doing, I don't know where he is now, and I don't know if he's alive or what shape he's in if he is. He came home on leave, out of the blue, we had a weekend together, then his omni-tool chimed and he was gone again. I don't know if they told him I was arrested, I don't know if they told him I was sentenced, and I don't know if they told him I'm missing presumed dead."

She looks up at the cameras. "This might be a bad idea, Harrad. What with my bein' dead an' all."

A thought occurs to her. "I'd...I mean...I could blast off my facepaint. Try an' change my looks a bit more. Get Raelon or someone to set me up with a new identity."

Harrad's mandibles set against his face. "They're thorough here, Sica. They have to be. Either you come clean or..." He let the thought trail off, and sighed. "If they're still really looking for you, then I don't think you can stay here. I'm sure I'll hear about it soon enough, if we get a visit. Maybe you should visit Vindi, talk with her, spend a few days out there. Then we'll know."

He gave Kythera's fringe a stroke. "She's safe here. We can go a step further, if you really want..." Turning, he looked to Laelix. His mouth opened, as a question hesitated, then closed again. Moving back to Sica, he offered a smile. "We'll talk about it, at least."

"Yeah." Sicaria looks blearier now. "I don't know if they're looking for me. I'm guessing not while they think I'm dead...I mean, the Hierarchy's got bigger things to do than look for my body on Earth. But I'm gonna be real hard to explain, Harrad, I think...I think maybe long term, I should find somewhere else to crash...yeah, maybe with Vindi...but not tonight."

She's so very tired. She barely has energy to finish her soup, much as she knows she needs it.

Her hand rests on Laelix's fringe. "You done good, kid."

Laelix smiled at the soft praise. "It's good to see you, Sica." The boy followed the smile up with a tight hug.

His father, too, was smiling. "Let's get you up to that room. Get some sleep, and we can chat more over breakfast tomorrow. Do you want to take Kythera with you tonight? If not, we can take her in, and work on the paperwork later." It had been a long day for Sica. It had probably been a long year. Spirits, did she look like she needed a rest. A solid month of sleep and soup.

Harrad couldn't spare that, but he could spare at least a night. With so many lost, it was good to see some people come home.

Sicaria rubs at her eyes. "She...she needs a bath, Harrad...prob'ly needs a change....prob'ly still hungry...." The Sundowner's fading fast. "You look after her, give her what she needs, I..."

She gets to her feet, sways, staggers, and seems to wake up a bit. "When she's sleepin, if you could put her cot in my room I'd appreciate it...I...don't wanna wake up not knowin' where she is...y'know..."

Oh Spirits. Oh thank the Spirits, she's home.

"Thankye Harrad...thankye for...for my daughter....thank...."

For more nights than she can remember she's slept with her daughter in the bag held to her chest with her damaged left arm, her machete gripped tightly in her right hand. For the first time in longer than she can recall she won't need the bag and the blade to sleep. Her daughter's safe. She's safe. She's home.

She's asleep before she hits the mattress.

~end~