Mahir - Daughter

Patrem - Father (Familiar form Pari equivalent to dad)

Matrula - Mother (Familiar form Mari equivalent to mom)

Filian - Sister

Drellak - Tall, relatively slender four legged herd animals weighing approximately 300 kilos.

Soluvermus - A small (average size 8-12 cms/1-2 cms diameter), heavily armoured earthworm native to Palaven's more northern and southern regions. It is considered a delicacy.

Fragrutis - A cactus native to Palaven that grows short, tough, and spiny but succulent leaves. The leaves are crushed, chopped and used as a spice in turian cooking. Very hot and spicy, adding a tart, savoury flavour.

Siligur - a grain grown and harvested on many dextro worlds. It has a high protein count and is used as a primary ingredient in dextro meal bars. If ground more finely, it makes fine baking flour.

Verro - Husband

Pulkar - Beautiful when referring to a male. Handsome, but it goes deeper, referring to the beauty of spirit as well. Used within a close relationship. (Father, son, husband)

Derra - Wife

Caris - Beloved, precious, cherished

Caman - Both the kitchen in the turian home and the large hearth at the center of their homes.

Alpha Prius - The highest level of importance and/or battle readiness in the turian military.

October 8, 2188 (1.5 months later) (Shepard 13 weeks pregnant)

Preparations for Solana and Kaidan's little—Garrus nearly choked to death on the thought of that word—backyard bonding ceremony took a quick swerve into the land of insanity with the quiet words, "I want the hideth turram match and testimonial feast to be open to anyone who wants to come, Garrus."

Garrus stared at Sol, his jaw and mandibles hanging. Anyone who wanted to come? With the food shortage, they'd have everyone on the planet at the bonding ceremony once word spread, and people would be bringing sacks to carry home extras. He just gaped, gasping a little in lieu of words. How in the name of buratrum would they feed the entire planet?

"Sol …."

His filian just shook her head, mandibles snug against her mouth, eyes narrow. "This city needs hope, Garrus. We'll hold both at the Academy where there's lots of room." And then she walked away, the very image of his mari at her most irascibly, gorgeously stubborn. "I'm going into work for a few hours. See you later."

If she hadn't just insisted on the impossible, Garrus might have taken a moment to bask in pride. But, she'd told him she expected him to feed the entire mabul planet and then walked out.

Happy filiam's bonding day to you, Garrus Vakarian.

He stared at the closed front door for a good five minutes, trying to think of where to start. Someone to organize it all. He couldn't do it and—he glanced over at Shepard, curled up on the couch, napping with Lenka—his pregnant mate couldn't do it. Well, as a hierarch, he should be able to pull the people together. The resources … well, he'd jump off that bridge when he got to it.

Garrus wandered into the kitchen, picking up Shepard's laptop from the sideboard. He could start figuring out the whole 'how the mabul am I going to do this?' while his ladies slept.

The first thing he did was message the da Silva's on Earth and ask for advice from their talented dextro chef. The chef promptly volunteered to organize everything if Garrus could get her an estimate on numbers and provide a list of suppliers.

Suppliers wouldn't be hard to locate, there being so few. The department of planetary reconstruction set up six massive farming coops around a major city on each continent. Already the crops had started coming in. A further five ranching coops managed to round up a fair number of the drellak and other food animals, leaving them loose on what pasture land remained.

An industrious group living in the north had even started a soluvermus farm that delivered nearly two tonnes of the hardy worms to Cipritine's emergency shelters a month. What had once been a delicacy restricted to the wealthy now boiled in pots of fragrutis and siligur broth over fires across the city. No one proved too picky to eat boiled earthworm, the damned things saving thousands of lives. Another two teams searched for other gathering points at the poles, the worms clustering together for defense in times of danger.

"Hey." Warm hands slipped around his neck, a sweet-scented, warm cheek pressing against the side of his head. "What are you up to?"

Garrus turned to nuzzle Shepard's cheek. "Sol decided to invite the entire planet to the turram match and testimonial feast, so I'm trying to figure out how to throw a bonding ceremony for thousands of people." Pulling back and leaning to the side, he looked her over. "How are you feeling? You still look beat."

Flopping down to drape over his shoulders, she nodded and closed her eyes. "I am, but I've got grading to do, so it's some hot, honey-sweet tea and introductory engineering principles for me." Nuzzling into his neck, she let out a long breath that heated his hide. "So, Sol wants to feed the planet?"

Garrus nodded, smiling where he'd felt only helplessly overfaced an hour before; leave it to Shepard to change the subject from her health to … anything. He leaned into her, her skin feverishly warm against his hide. "I called the da Silvas and their chef took a lot of the burden off my shoulders. I just have to make sure she can source food and give her an estimate of the numbers." He lifted a hand to caress his derra's cheek: definitely too warm. "I'll apply for an intern or two when I go into the office."

Extricating himself from her embrace, he turned sideways in the chair to really look at her. Black circles painted the underside of her eyes so thick that she looked as though she'd been punched. He returned his palm to her cheek then her brow. "You're really warm." A soft hiss of breath met her shrug. After so many years of striding away from bullet wounds with a little medigel and a smile, she didn't take her health nearly seriously enough.

Speaking of … the morning before he'd noticed a yellow cast to the whites of her eyes. She'd shrugged it off, but promised to go see the doctor before classes. She obviously broke that promise, because the yellow cast now soured her skin as well. "You didn't go in to see Karin, did you?"

Shepard pulled back. "No, I got to my office and ended up mobbed by cadets with questions about their midterm projects." She turned toward the counter. "I'll go see her in the morning for sure, because I'm feeling a little off."

"A little off?" The words exploded from his mouth before he could stop or soften them. "This isn't a little off, Shepard." To his eyes, the evidence that his unborn child was killing his derra couldn't be more obvious. He jumped up after her, turning her back around. "You go lie down and rest. We can go over the grading together after supper." When she simply caressed her palm along the length of his mandible and turned to start the tea, he caught her arm. "I mean it. I'll make the tea. Please, Shepard, rest."

Letting out a long, musical sort of sigh, she stopped and leaned against the counter. "Mordin's nephew called. I need to go to Sur'kesh over the weekend. They've got a battery of tests awaiting me." She sagged forward until the knife edges of her hip bones pressed against the counter.

Garrus let that information sit between them while he pressed the button on the kettle and dragged the tea tray from the back of the counter. "What sort do you want?"

"The dandelion and rosehip please, with some of the clover honey." She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against his back. "Thank you, pulkar verro."

He turned in the circle of her arms, bending to hold her close, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "We'll call to see if Karin has a spot for you tonight." He hardened his subvocals to eliminate any chance she'd believe he meant it as a suggestion. "And, depending on what Karin says tonight, we'll plan to leave for Sur'kesh the second your last class lets out on Friday."

Shepard cradled his face between her hands, her stare warm and loving, a substantial vein of worry pulsing beneath the surface. "Okay, my love. I'm not going to fight you on this; our son is far too important to me." She pressed her hands against the small swell of her belly—more pronounced than Mercy had been at the same stage, no doubt due to Shepard's bone-thinness—and leaned into him. Arms sliding back around his waist, she allowed him to take some of her weight.

Garrus accepted it and took a deep breath, his fear begging him to remind his caris of the dangers inherent with becoming too attached to their unborn child. The words only made it to the back of his throat before he braced his tongue against the warning and remained silent. Shepard understood the realities facing her pregnancy as painfully as he did. No doubt the decision bearing down on them at FTL never truly left her mind: it certainly haunted her sleep, leaving her unrested and wan.

Yes, she also didn't need him to remind her that if it came down to saving her life or his child's, he needed to choose her. So, instead, he bent down, one hand slipping behind her knees, and carried her to the couch. He settled her on the deep cushions before covering her to the waist with her favourite throw.

"Do you need any more pillows?" he asked, brushing his mouth against her brow.

"I'm fine, love, thank you." She sank into the pillows stacked against the couch's arm and closed her eyes.

In the caman, the kettle began to sing, its shrill whistle waking Lenka on the other end of the couch.

The little batarian looked up, a groggy smile greeting him. "You making cocoa, Daddy?" Shifting around, Lenka burrowed in against Shepard, her favourite stuffed penguin and ragged old Jane tucked in under her chin.

"I can, if you want some," he answered, turning to shut down the obnoxious noise. Damn thing always felt like a laser drill boring into one aural canal and out the other. He hit the switch, then poured

"Yes, please," the child called after him. "Thank you."

"Lots of honey, please, love. I could use the energy, however short-lived." Shepard's voice stopped Garrus mid-action. It sounded so thin that he strode back to the living room to check on her. A shaky sigh met her deeply shadowed smile. Spirits, he didn't think he'd survive the next five months even if she did.

"Karin would smack me for going for the sugar high." She followed the wan smile with pulling the throw up around her ears. Groaning softly, she wiggled down into the deep cushions. "I love this couch. Turian furniture rules."

By the time Garrus returned to the living room with the tea and a sandwich, Shepard had fallen asleep. Lenka lay curled up behind her mother's legs, watching cartoons. He passed the child her hot cocoa, and set the tea tray down on the end of the coffee table.

"Shepard?" He sat next to the tray and reached out to brush the hair from her forehead.

"Mommy's not feeling good," Lenka scolded, rolling over just enough to embrace Shepard's leg. Spirits, he loved that fierce, protective little package of joy.

Garrus smiled at the child and nodded, just a slow, sad dip of his head. "I know, pretty eyes." He tipped his head toward the vid screen. "Go ahead and watch your show."

One of Shepard's hands hung off the side of the couch, having slipped out from under the throw. He clasped her bone-thin fingers between both of his hands, but didn't try to wake her again. She needed to drink and eat, but for the moment, sleep seemed more important. He'd call Karin, ask her to bring over some fortified rations from Shepard's favourites.

As thin as Shepard had gotten during her pregnancy with Mercy, he'd never truly worried about her. He'd worried during the return trip to Palaven because she was feeding Mercy. But even with Mercy mostly eating solid food, Shepard seemed to be in freefall. Starting out so run down … she shouldn't have gotten pregnant. Not that it had been planned. Tarc, with the differences in their biologies, conception should have been an impossibility.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, breathing some warmth into it for a second before nuzzling her knuckles and tucking it back under her throw. Caressing her brow, he let out a long sigh. Her skin still felt hot and damp. By all the levels of buratrum …. Waiting for the weekend wasn't an option. He needed to get her to Sur'kesh the next day.

"Keep an eye on your mom, pretty eyes?" he asked, pushing himself up.

Lenka smiled, her upper lip brown with chocolate. "Okay, Daddy." The child turned around so she could see Shepard's face, taking her order seriously. "Mommy doesn't look good."

"I know. I'm going to call Dr. Chakwas, okay? You just cuddle up to Mommy and take care of her." Leaving a reassuring smile behind him, he turned to add some more fuel to the caman before stepping around to the other side. He placed a call to Chakwas, who agreed to come as soon as she could find someone to cover for her. Following that with a call to his father's office, he left a message asking if someone could cover Shepard's classes for the next couple of days. Last, he left a message for Adrien, telling the primarch that he and Shepard would be leaving town early, and that he owed the primarch five credits when he returned: he'd finally broken down and applied for interns.

That done, he moved the laptop to the living room, so he could keep an eye on his derra while he worked … or tried to work. Unable to concentrate, he ended up staring at Lenka's program without really seeing the animated characters cavorting across the vid screen.

He and Shepard fought like hell to get to the end of the war. From the moment she showed up on Omega, he'd fashioned this picture in his head: the two of them living in a house like the one he'd grown up in, curling up on the couch together, a roaring fire in the caman, kids playing on the floor. That dream pulled him all the way through the Collectors, Shepard's time in prison, the war, and the horrific months when he didn't know if she'd survived.

His gaze slid across to Shepard, her freckles dark against her pale skin. "It was all supposed to be so much easier, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice low and mostly subvocals. "The galaxy was supposed to reward us for all the sacrifices and pain."

He stood and crossed the few metres to kneel next to the couch. Reaching up, he stroked his talons through her hair. "Shepard? Love? Wake up." He touched the teapot with his other hand to check the temperature. Still hot. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. "Come on. Wake up and drink your tea."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Garrus?"

He pressed his palm to her brow. In the last hour, warm had become decidedly fevered. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, okay?" Preparing his 'the okay was purely rhetorical' argument, he stopped mid-thought when she nodded. Shepard giving in without a fight? He leaned in to nuzzle her brow. "Okay. I'll get Pari over here to sit with the girls."

"Can I call Papa?" Lenka asked, scrambling off the couch. She stared up at him with eyes that quite literally sparkled with excitement. "And can Ama Gira come with him?"

Spirits, they didn't come braver than their eldest. Only Lenka's continuing night terrors reminded them of her abduction and torture. Garrus chuckled and turned the laptop to face her. "Of course. Tell them we'll be on our way as soon as they arrive."

He strode to the bedroom to grab their go-bags, tucking their hygiene kits into the outer pocket. After snatching up Shepard's pillow, he turned and stalled, staring at the two duffels sitting at the end of their bed. Almost two cycles after the war—and quite likely for the rest of their lives—they still lived like soldiers. Any belongings beyond what fit into a kit they owed to the girls or Gira, keeping their lives small and mobile. Would they ever relax and fully inhabit what their struggles had purchased?

The front door chime dragged him out of his reverie, and he grabbed up the duffels, hauling them through to the door. Even before he checked the security camera, he could tell Karin had arrived. Outside, on the step, Barl's delighted rumble gave away the identity of their guest. For reasons both mysterious and understandable, the head of the Shepard-Vakarian security detail adored Karin Chakwas: honoring her with the appropriate nickname, Snapdragon. Garrus opened the door and stepped out of the way, the doctor hurrying past.

"Where is …?" The doctor traded finishing her question for activating her omnitool when her scan-like gaze found Shepard lying on the couch. "Shepard? Wake up, Admiral." Chakwas pushed the tea tray down to the end of the table to make room for her medical bag, then sat in Garrus's spot at the end. "How are you feeling?" She tapped at the tool's interface for a couple of seconds, then shot a speedy glance at Garrus that managed to portray worry, questioning, and accusation in under a quarter second. "Shepard?" The doctor's professional mask remained nearly inscrutable, but for a pair of lines between her brows that screamed volumes.

"I've got our bags ready to go, and my pari's on the way to look after the girls." Garrus passed the duffels to Barl, who stood at the threshold, looking as though his bulk held the door frame vertical. "Throw those in the car, please, Barl."

"Shepard?" Chakwas dove into her bag, pulling out a syringe. "Shepard, wake up. Can you open your eyes and look at me?" She administered the shot, then trained her stare on Garrus once again. "How long has she been jaundiced? And when did she develop the fever?"

"The yellow colouring started yesterday, but you know Shepard. She said she'd drop in to see you before her first class. When I got home today, it was … " He gestured at his mate. She'd looked very much as she did. "I noticed the fever an hour or so ago." Stepping up tight against the back of the couch, he reached down to caress Shepard's shoulder. Even in the past half hour, her condition looked worse. Sweat and livid, red splotches covered her pale skin.

Chakwas looked up at the door when Barl dominated the open space once more. "Start the car, please Barl, we've got to get the admiral to the hospital." She glanced up at Garrus between sorting another series of shots. "We don't have time to get her to Sur'kesh. She's suffering an intense allergic reaction." The doctor's gaze flicked to the door again, her anxiety level beating Garrus's heart against his rib cage like a dribbled basketball. "Barl can take Shepard and I. You follow when Herros gets here."

"Papa and Ama Gira are coming right now," Lenka announced from the floor on the other side of the coffee table. The adorable little face stared at Chakwas, slow tears running down her face, her mouth pressed closed as if holding back a question that frightened her.

The room closed in around him, the air sucked out through the open front door as he faced Chakwas's plan. Still, Garrus nodded, his neck frozen and stiff, as Barl pushed past him to lift the source of all his warmth and gravity from the couch. To counter it, he strode around and held out his arms to lift Lenka up into the cradle of one elbow.

Shepard reached out for Garrus as Barl carried her past, held in his massive arms. "Garrus? What's …?" Her eyes rolled, wild and terrified. "What's happening?"

He caught her hand, gripping it tight as he followed them to the door. "Karin and Barl are taking you to the hospital." Stepping in front of Barl, he forced the krogan to stop. Spirits, wasn't it enough for them to steal her away? Doing it without letting her family say goodbye and reassure her? He'd be six days dead and eight levels down in buratrum first.

"Don't worry, caris, as soon as Pari and Gira get here to look after the girls, I'll be right behind you." He leaned in, then stopped to glance up at Barl, whose massive face glared at him from a quarter centimetre above Shepard's. "Lenka and I are going to kiss my derra," he informed the krogan, "so stop glaring at me like that, and move that mako attached to your shoulders out of my way."

"The doc says we've got to hurry," the krogan argued, his elbow trying to shove Garrus off to one side. "You can kiss the missus at the hospital."

"It's all right," Chakwas said, from just behind Barl's shoulder, her voice kind and reassuring. Although the tone wasn't meant for him, it slowed the frantic beating of Garrus's heart nonetheless. The doctor shot an understanding glance around the krogan's elbow. "Shepard, the hierarch, and Lenka will all feel calmer for it."

As soon as Barl's massive head moved aside, Garrus leaned in, his free hand cupping Shepard's cheek. "Pari is already on his way, I'll be five minutes behind you." He kissed her, then shifted so Lenka could say her goodbye.

"Love you, beautiful," Shepard whispered then kissed her daughter's cheek. "I'll see you later. Be good for Papa."

"I will." Lenka kissed a feverish cheek, then pulled away, both arms wrapping around Garrus's neck as she clung to him. "I love you, Mommy," she called as Barl pushed past.

"I'm right behind you," Garrus repeated, not at all certain how much Shepard understood through the fever.

Chakwas gave him a tight-lipped smile, but no words of comfort as she followed, leaving the door for Garrus to close. Instead, he stood on the step, watching as they laid Shepard down in the back, and the doctor climbed in to crouch at her side. When Barl closed the vehicle, Garrus watched after it until it vanished behind the cliff to the north.

Letting out a long sigh, he looked to his daughter. "Should we go wake Mercy up from her nap and make sure she's all clean for Papa when he gets here?"

Lenka nodded, but with none of her usual lively humour. "Do you think Ama Gira will bake some cookies with me? Mommy loves peanut butter cookies."

Garrus pulled his daughter in close and nuzzled her temple. "I'm sure of it, pretty eyes." He spun on his talons and strode through the door. "Make me some cookies, too?" That ought to keep her busy until he could contact home with news.

Narpin Solus clucked his tongue, the mannerism—just one of many he shared with his uncle—pulling Garrus out of a light doze. The salarian shook his head. "Options limited. Best result for the admiral: remove fetus and place in a gestation chamber."

Garrus blinked, his mind racing, trying to wake up and understand the salarian's words. Seeing nothing but impartial scientist reflected on Solus's face, he looked to Chakwas. "Gestation chamber?" His mandibles flicking low and tight to his mouth.

Chakwas made a low, unhappy sound. "The child's odds of surviving the transplant to an artificial womb are low, and in her current condition, the admiral might not survive the trauma either." She shook her head, a decisive gesture that allowed Garrus to back down from alpha prius alert. "We're not there yet."

"I don't see any other options," Solus argued. "The allergic reaction is reaching critical levels even with the massive doses of antihistamines we're administering." He paced to the door and then back to the bed. "Given the admiral's orders to preserve the life of her child, the gestation chamber is our last option to avoid terminating the pregnancy."

Fully and rudely awake, Garrus jumped to his feet. "Unacceptable." He stepped between Solus and the bed. "This woman—my derra—faced down reapers to save your life and the life of everyone in this hospital. Even when the war ground her down until she couldn't do anything but sleep and fight, she never quit."

He stepped up to loom over the salarian. "It's time for the mabul galaxy to start living up to her example. Although she'd never say it, I will: it's time for the galaxy to pay her back. It needs to spend the rest of her life paying her back by trying harder … " He drew in a quick breath. "... by not accepting defeat."

Garrus stepped back to take Shepard's hand once again. "It's time for us to catch a mabul break. Use that massive brain, and save both my mate and my child."

Shifting from foot to foot, the salarian wrung his hands. "Hierarch … I …."

Chakwas stepped up and placed a stilling hand on Solus's shoulder. "What we need to do is prevent the baby's waste products from entering Shepard's system." Turning away from the two of them, she paced across the room and back, her steps slow, her head low, brow creased in thought. "Artificial wombs use a series of filters to remove toxins and waste products through the umbilical, taking place of the mother's liver and kidneys."

Squeezing Shepard's shoulder, her voice soft and directed inward, Chakwas continued, "What if, instead of bringing the baby to the artificial womb, we could find a way to bring the artificial womb to the baby?"

Solus clucked softly, his fingers lifting to curl against his mouth. The gesture so resembled his uncle, that a pang of grief stabbed Garrus straight through the keel.

"Problematic," the geneticist said, "but perhaps possible." His omnitool sparked to life, the orange glow a promise, like Trebin as it appeared to banish the night.

Chakwas turned away from Shepard. "What are you thinking? A scale-sized internal dialysis pump, maybe … but attached through the …." She and Narpin wandered over to the bank of computers and monitors, finishing one another's sentences as they brainstormed.

"Geniuses at work." Garrus chuckled as he returned to the chair next to Shepard's bed, playing down the sudden fire of hope the doctors lit behind his keel.

For the first time that day, his mate opened her eyes, her stare fixed on him. Smiling, he wrapped his derra's hand in both of his, his thumb caressing the silken skin at the inside of her wrist. "The way those two are burning brain power, they'll be setting off the smoke alarms."

Shepard gripped him more tightly than he thought possible in her state. But then again, she was Shepard; she defined herself by pushing past the possible. "I'm scared," she said, the emotion raw and bleeding through the words. "If they put me out …." She gulped, the strangled click in her throat painful to hear. "Don't let them take our son away." Eyes closing, she seemed to drift off, an illusion shattered a half-minute later.

"He's everything we fought to have, Garrus." Rolling onto her side, she pulled his hand in against her body, hugging it to her breast. Her eyes opened, already focused on him. "Don't let them take him, please."

A fist drove into his gut, slow and intractable as it pushed up behind his keel and into his throat. "Unless there is no other way to save you, I promise." Bending over her, he pressed his mouth to her brow. "I promise."

His wife shifted under him, curling up, her arms wrapped around her waist. "I've never been this scared, Garrus. Not even over Alchera, my air streaming out into space, the Normandy dying around me." She stilled, even her breathing weakening until he couldn't feel her ribcage expanding against his arm.

He sat back in his chair at her side and gave her the bravest smile he could muster. "Yeah, you're never scared of sacrificing yourself, just the people you love."

"Even when Lenka was taken, I could focus on fixing it, work toward getting her home." Shepard shook her head, her red, watery stare so intense it felt like a drill boring into his head. "I can't do anything about this, Garrus. I've tried everything, and even ELSI is helpless to repair this malfunction."

Garrus nodded and leaned in to touch his brow to hers. "You've never been very good at giving up control and letting someone else solve the problem." He nuzzled her. "I think I can help you with this problem, though. Close your eyes." When her eyelids drifted shut, he closed his as well.

"When I was small and scared, my mari sang to me: always the same song. It always helped calm me down, allowing me to fall asleep despite the imagined horrors lurking in the dark spaces of my bedroom or my fear for my pari's safety." He hummed a few bars, bringing the melody to life through layered subvocals of comfort and hope.

"It's lovely," Shepard whispered, nuzzling into him.

"When I returned to Palaven after the collector base, the Corpalis Syndrome had left her paralyzed and in agony, her once keen intellect reduced to momentary flashes of lucidity amidst dementia." His throat tightened, remembering the skeletal, trembling talons that he'd held in his … the fog dulling the once bright blue of his mari's eyes. "She spent most of her time crying, confused and terrified, so I'd sit with her, hold her hand, and sing to her."

Shepard let out a long breath. "Like she sang to you. That's beautiful, Garrus. I know it meant the world to her."

He nodded and sniffed softly, swallowing the pressure building in his throat. "It meant everything to me as well." Nuzzling her cheek, he whispered, "Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be okay. I promise you that."

Letting out a long sigh, phlegmy with tears, she said, "Don't make promises you can't keep, love."

"Just go to sleep, I've got everything covered." He kissed her brow, nose, and lips, then nestled her back into the curve of his neck. "You're the air I breathe," he said, repeating her words back to her. "The sun in my sky."

"You'll sing to me?" she asked, then kissed just below his jaw.

"Always." He caressed her shoulder. "I'll tell you a secret … I sing to you all the time. It seems to help when you have nightmares." Holding her close despite the chill of the blanket helping keep her fever down, he sang, continuing even after her breathing evened out.

(I promised a chapter for the holidays, and missed by a day. Sorry. But here it is ... we're working on normalizing life. Thanks for still caring about this story enough to comment and message me asking about it. *hugs*)