The Soft Light Affair

I Do not Own Mass Effect

Chapter One:

In a farming town not far away nor to close to any other lived a boy. He was a mischievous little hellion that would sit on a grassy knole under the shade of a grand oak tree with stones in hand. He would cast them from his sitting place to the townsfolk passing by and laugh quite merrily when they would turn to scold and chastise his ill behavior.

"My father is the sheriff! You cannot harm me!" he would so ardently cry if one of the townsfolk so much as dared to come near. Only until dusk, when his father would come home for the night would the boy stop to listen and then… only then would he stop.

It was on one such day that everything changed. The day had been as ordinary, dull and unremarkable as the next when the boy spotted a person, a quarian girl who seemed to be looking his way. A smile slowly crept and danced across the boy's face and with a stone the size of his fist found home in his palm

"A new target for me to hit." The boy snickered and laughed and with a smile a stone was cast and her glass face cover nearly shattered. Little did the boy know, that the quarian people could not breathe as we, nor did he know that she could grow ill. When she fell to the ground, she shook and let out a great cough. When he saw such a scary display the boy rushed to her side, tears streaming his eyes. He begged forgiveness, as he helped her to her feet. She didn't respond, all she could do was weep.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" The boy pleaded with soft, hurt eyes. The girl pushed him away, her intention clear that he should just go away. Although the boy was a mischievous hellion at times he did have a sense of justice, one that was strong. So he comforted her until she could no longer cry. With nowhere else to go and nothing to do, he visited with the little quarian girl, and even learnt her name. The boy tried to pronounce it and sound it out but was long with lots of different sounding words. In the end he resolved to call her by Syla, the first part of her name. Likewise with she, unable to pronounce the strange sounding human name, instead called him Wayu

With his new friend the boy sat, and looked up to beyond the warm autumn stained leaves. He had always wanted a friend. Both talked and laughed about things they shared. He told the girl of his wishes, his dream to one day take to the skies, to be free and that was when she told him that of her home the Migrant fleet. Intrigued the boy told her that he wanted to see her home one day. As the sun began to set and to dip over into distance, the boy unsheathed his knife, and placed it to the bark of the tree. He quickly told her to look away as he carved and worked away. With a proud smile the boy placed back his knife and motioned for the girl, Syla to look. At the base of the tree, engraved at its center were their names, with a promise, proclaiming that they would always be friends. As the sun set both sat together, watching the shady, cloud filled sky with one another. However things would not go well.

With a mask that was cracked it was unable to protect her from the air, nor the means to fight the germs that now littered her frame. The young quarian girl quickly grew sick. Her coughing slowly increased and a fever was near.

As if fate were to intervene, the parents of the young girl were quite close by and had found her in the nick of time. They rushed her back home, harshly scolding the boy… and from that moment on he would not see the girl, not for a very long time.

Many years later, the boy now a ripe in his teens found himself under the tree. He ate an apple and held a stone in his hand. A light smile glided onto his face and let out a laugh. He could still recall that girl, the one he met so many years ago. Not a day went by did he ever stop regretting, throwing that stone. He wished he could take it all back, to stop himself from hurting that girl. For now all he could do was sit and to dream under this tree. Of the home in the skies, the Migrant Fleet, and that was when his adolescent dreams were crudely interrupted. A stone had cracked the side of his head. In the distance, not too far away was a familiar quarian girl who was looking his way.

From that time on the two would spend all of their days dreaming, basking and everything else under that tree. For many months the two would simply talk about life and what was ahead. To the boy's surprise the girl, Syla was now here to stay. She was on pilgrimage and had chosen this place to learn and to live.

Over the course of a year both had become closer than friends. To deny that a bond had been formed would be untrue. Both the boy and the girl had nearly fallen in love… nearly. One afternoon, on a hot summer day, the boy bought roses, a lovely bouquet. Old fashioned he thought with a smile before placing them on the frame of his desk, too afraid to give them to Syla. When it came time to meet with her the boy snatched up one single rose for good measure. He made his way back to their tree. Unaware of what was about to unfold.

He sat and he fidgeted under the tree beads of nervous sweat gathered at his brow. The boy had never truly asked a girl out for a date and was afraid that he would come out looking the part of a fool. With a sigh and a reassuring crack of his neck, the boy gathered whatever courage he had.

Shortly thereafter time had passed and the boy started to wonder, if she had been sick. She was never once late and if so only by the second. More time did pass until she finally arrived, with a broken voice, she wildly proclaimed that slavers had arrived and were attacking the town. Fire flared, burned and kindled in the young man's heart. His eyes narrowed and gently placed his hands to her shoulders. He instructed her to hide here and to wait until it was safe.

Without another word more the boy rushed home. Fires glinted across the small farming town. After sneaking past several slaver patrols, the boy found his father in the entrance of his home. He was badly injured, with a bullet to his chest and his rifle strewn across the floor. The young man demanded to know if mother and sister were safe. A long cold silence was answer enough. His father looked into the young man's eyes and handed him the rifle and urged him to escape.

"Not without our family!" the young man barked as he forced his arm through the sling of his father's Model Seventy Winchester. With a great clatter and bang several slavers burst through the door. They brandished energy weapons and took aim. The young man rushed forward and with a powerful crack, forced the stock of the rifle into the first Batarian's skull. With deft hands he managed to grab the alien's M-6 Carnifex. The young man fired off several shots, killing the second and third. After the last Batarian fell the young man rushed to his father and begged with a hoarse, broken voice to stay with him.

"Save yourself." Was his father's last reply, the young man slammed his fist to floor and screamed until he was hoarse. Enraged, he marched into the street. Many Batarians saw him and circled around him but the young man didn't care. He rapidly fired his father's rifle, clearing a way. As he ran, one managed a shot, a single kinetic round to the back of his leg. Again he was circled, each slaver trying to lasso him. Every single one that attempted ended up with a bullet to his head. The young man fought until he was completely dry of ammo with dead bodies surrounding him. He collapsed, tired and out of breathe and in the distance there was a light. A soft light, bathing over the entire town.

Wayne Shepard awoke drowned in sweat and rolled over on his double wide. The holo frame clock read four o clock A:m, Earth, New York standard time. With a great effort he sat up, still shaking from his dreams. They were always so real… why did they have to be so goddamned real? His hand shot out and grasped the side of his bedside desk. Using it as support to stand Wayne made his way back to his personal cabin's computer desk.

"Commander Shepard, readings of your vitals and mental capacity are reaching critical levels, shall I have Mordin contacted?" EDI's voice chimed. Wayne groaned a no as his hands fumbled inside one of the drawers until he found his pleasure. A single pack of American spirits Blue. Ripping open the top Wayne was dismayed, not a single smoke left. He angrily tore at his bottom drawer, throwing everything around, making an utter mess of his floor and table. Finally he sunk down with clenched fists. Out of anger he picked up the overturned picture of Liara that sat on his desk and sent it flying into the wall. Only then did he begin to calm down. Sitting there, EDI's avatar crackled to life, the blue orb watching over him.

"EDI, intercom down to engineering for Tali."

"Yes, Commander." With that Shepard slowly picked up his mess. Tali didn't need to see this. Marching over to where the picture landed he looked over it with a pained smile, a crack ran down the middle the picture of Liara warped and slightly distorted. He placed the picture down as Tali entered from the the elevator door. "I don't deserve her." Wayne mused before nearly breaking down into tears.