The restaurant James had chosen was one of the trendiest in the city. He and his date were waiting for them in the bar when they stepped off the elevator on the top floor of the hotel.

"Uncle James!" Hope cried, dashing ahead and throwing herself into the big man's arms. Grinning widely, James swept her off her feet and hugged her tightly. By the time Jeff and Sam arrived, the girl's face was already turning red.

"You're squishing me!" Hope gasped, still happily clinging to James' neck.

"Lo siento, senorita," James replied with mock contriteness, carefully setting her back on her feet. He bent down low before her, wearing an overly serious expression.

"And what does that mean, what I just said?"

"Ummm," Hope considered, biting the inside of her cheek, "I'm sorry, my...lady?"

James' face split into a wide grin as he straightened up. "My lady! Listen to you, so dramatic! But, yes, very good." Turning to Sam, James chastely kissed her cheek. "Lola. Looking lovely, as always."

"James."

"Ace." James extended his hand for Jeff to shake. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, you too."

Finally, James turned to the stunning woman standing beside him. "Cassie, this is Admiral Shepard; her husband, Jeff Moreau; and their daughter, Hope."

The tall brunette gave them a friendly smile. "It's so nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you all." The British accent made her words sound all the more polite.

Earlier that evening, Sam had shaken most of the wrinkles out of a simple black sheath before slipping it on, adding pumps with a low heel and a light dusting of makeup. She'd felt pretty good leaving the hotel, but standing next to Cassie made her feel like a troll.

An old troll.

Sam estimated that James' date was in her early thirties, with a crown of gorgeous curls that reached almost to her waist. Her turquoise eyes sparkled with humor and intelligence. Cassie's silk blouse was low-cut, displaying her ample assets to great effect. Sam had a sudden flashback to the days of feeling invisible in her bulky armor next to Miranda, whose revealing bodysuit spotlighted the Cerberus agent's every sumptuous curve. Glancing at her husband, Sam saw that Jeff hadn't failed to notice the other woman's generous attributes, as well.

"I made the reservation under your name," James informed Sam with a mischievous grin. "Never could have gotten in here, otherwise."

As if on cue, the manager on duty scurried over and greeted them with a deferential smile. "Admiral Shepard. It's an honor to have you join us tonight. We've set aside our best table, and our executive chef will be preparing a special menu, just for you and your guests. May I show you to your seats?"

"Why yes, you may," James answered on Sam's behalf, graciously extending an arm to both Cassie and Hope before following their host into the seating area. To his credit, Jeff managed not to follow the progress of Cassie's shapely ass - encased in a tight, black pencil skirt that fell to just above her knee - too obviously. Even Sam couldn't help but admire the woman's hourglass silhouette as she sashayed away on three-inch heels.

In the dining room, they were seated at a table near the windows with a spectacular view of the London skyline. Hope chose the seat on one side of James, while Cassie selected the other. Sam sat next to the younger woman, while Jeff took the final chair between Sam and Hope.

Before the waiter could even fill their water glasses, Hope was talking James' ear off about their plans for the rest of their visit. Sam said to Cassie, "I hope you're not the jealous type. Our daughter has no qualms about monopolizing James' attention."

Cassie laugh was a melodic trill. "That's okay; I'm used to it. James' female admirers are legion. Besides, I can talk to him anytime," she added, with a dismissive wave. "I'd rather get to know you. James really does talk about you all the time."

Sam winced. "I hope you don't believe everything you hear."

"Nonsense," Cassie admonished, placing her cloth napkin in her lap with a ladylike flourish. "It's all very complimentary."

Now it was Sam's turn to laugh, though not nearly as mellifluously. "Now I know you're lying."

"No, it's true!" Cassie insisted, as Sam shot a skeptical look in James' direction. Feeling her gaze upon him, the soldier glanced up.

"What?"

"Cassie has heard nice things about me?"

"Of course," James assured her. "If I have something bad to say about you, I say it to your face. Or leak it to the media, depending on how scandalous it is."

"James!" Cassie scolded, but Sam just grinned.

"You don't have the balls, Vega. I may be old, but I can still take you."

"Keep dreaming, Lola."

Cassie looked nonplussed by the macho banter, but when she looked to Jeff in silent supplication, he merely shrugged. He'd become accustomed to the verbal sparring between Sam and James long ago.

Over salads, Jeff and Sam gently interrogated James' date. Like most of the others, she was charming and bright, as well as beautiful. Oxford educated, she practiced medicine at one of London's highest-rated hospitals. She was a catch by any standards - way out of James' league - and yet, undoubtedly soon to be cast aside by their notoriously fickle friend.

Halfway through the delectable entrees, Cassie was called away. "I'm so sorry. There was a multi-vehicle collision on the motorway, and I'm afraid it's all hands on deck."

"Go," James told her as Cassie rose and bussed his cheek under Hope's watchful eye. "I'll call you later."

"It was lovely meeting you all," Cassie called over her shoulder as she hurried away.

The rest of them finished eating with a minimum of conversation, now that the pressure to make small talk had been relieved. Hope, in particular, had run out of steam and fallen silent. As the plates were being cleared, the youngster gave a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Someone's getting tired," Sam observed.

"No!" Hope objected immediately, afraid of being excluded from the group. "I'm not tired."

"Well, you may not be tired, but I sure am," Jeff told his daughter. "Why don't we go back to the hotel? We can put on a vid and order dessert from room service."

A visible internal debate waged as Hope considered her options. Jet lag - and the promise of a decadent treat - won the war.

"Okay," Hope relented, reluctantly rising to her feet and giving James a farewell hug.

"'Night, Peanut," James said, engulfing her in one huge forearm. "See you tomorrow."

"You coming?" Jeff asked Sam

"I think I might stay and have a cup of coffee with James - if you're up for it?" Sam asked her friend.

"Of course. I always have time for you, Lola."

A shadow passed across Jeff's face, gone as quickly as it had arrived, but he merely replied, "Okay. See you back at the hotel." He gathered Hope, and the duo left the restaurant together.

Sam and James ordered coffee, which their server delivered promptly. Blowing on the steaming brew, Sam stared at James over the rim of the mug. "Just how often do you drop my name at places like this in order to impress your dates?" she asked.

"Not as often as I'd like," James admitted. "My pay grade doesn't allow it. Unless you'd like to give me a raise?"

Sam snorted. "Dream on, lover boy." Leaning back in her chair, Sam remarked casually, "So, what's wrong with this one?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's smart, she's talented, she's beautiful," Sam ticked off her points on her fingers. "But then again, they're always beautiful," she acknowledged, as James smirked. "These double dates do nothing for my self-confidence, I hope you know."

James tsked. "What are you talking about? You're still pretty hot - for a woman your age," he teased with an evil grin.

"Oh, you are soooo fired! But quit trying to change the subject and answer the question."

"What was the question again?" James asked, innocently taking a sip from his mug.

Sam fought the urge to roll her eyes. "What's. Wrong. With. Cassie?"

"Nothing's wrong with her," James finally responded, with some exasperation. "We're dating, remember?"

Sam gave him her patented don't bullshit me look. "Dating, sure - but you're not crazy about her."

"How do you know how I feel about her?" James shot back.

"You don't look at her like a guy in love," Sam stated, simply.

James guffawed. "What - all moony-eyed like the pilot there? You two are a unique thing all your own, Lola. Don't be comparing other people to you."

Now Sam did roll her eyes, not conceding his point but not willing to argue further. They sipped their java in companionable silence for a few moments, then James said, "Ya know, the other night Cassie was telling me a story about this crazy night in the ER, back when she was a resident - one of those rotations you never forget, right?"

Sam nodded her understanding.

"And for some reason, my mind starts wandering…"

"'Cause you're a guy, and genetically incapable of listening when a woman speaks?" Sam interrupted.

"I'm sorry, did you say something? Anyway, I started thinking about when we went looking for Leviathan. Remember that?"

Sam chuckled. "Talking to an ancient Reaper thousands of meters under the sea? Not something I'm likely to forget."

"Yeah." James shook his head in wonder. "I remember I wanted to throttle Esteban for sending you down there in that rickety-ass Atlas. Me and him and Scars, up there on that freighter, fighting wave after wave of Reaper troops. And it felt like you'd been down there forever." James paused as he traveled back to that time and place in his mind. "I don't think I ever saw Garrus that scared, before or after," he said, softly. "He always hated not being by your side in a fight."

Sam swallowed the lump that arose in her throat at the mention of the turian's name, but her former teammate was lost in memories and didn't seem to notice.

"And I started thinking, What if she doesn't come back? Because by then, it was pretty clear to me that the war effort began - and ended - with Commander Shepard. All those promises the other races made? They didn't mean shit if you weren't around to enforce 'em. And then, I had this even worse thought - what if we have to go back to the Normandy and tell Ace that we lost you to the ocean? That you're just gone, forever? And I knew right away that I rather die on that godforsaken planet than face that shit.

I'm looking all around us - there's just water, as far as the eye can see - and I start to realize that the rest of us might not make it out of there, either. And even if we do, we still have one hell of a fight ahead of us - if we're lucky, we'll live to die another day. A day probably not that far in the future."

James' eyes refocused on Sam as his attention returned to the present. "Then suddenly, bam! That damn Atlas came rocketing out of the water, the cockpit popped open and you spilled out onto the deck, blood pouring from your eyes, nose...shit, even your ears."

"It was the re-pressurization. I came to the surface too fast," Sam replied, but James shook his head.

"It wasn't just that and we both know it. You were out of it. Scars, he ran between the legs of one of those damn brutes and scooped you up, and we all beat feet back to the shuttle. You... you were covered in blood, shivering so hard it looked like you were having a damn seizure, mumbling about some sea monster under the water. And Scars was still looking panicked, which was freaking me the fuck out, to be honest."

James took a deep breath. "Anyway, at some point during this trip down memory lane, I realize Cassie has stopped talking and has probably been waiting for some kind of response to her story, which I mostly missed - and I'm not sure what to say, but I sure as hell can't tell her what I was thinking about without her thinking I'm fucking loco."

"Maybe if you told it minus the ancient sea monster?"

"A Leviathan story, minus Leviathan?" James asked, dubiously.

Sam shrugged. "People know now that the Reapers were real. Is Leviathan that much of a stretch?"

"Maybe not," James admitted. "But that it talked to you? Took over your mind? 'Cause I know you didn't make that shit up, Lola. I might not've been there when it happened, but I saw you right after. That shit was real."

"Yeah. It was." Sam reached across the table and covered James' massive hand with her own. He gave her an acknowledging squeeze, his fingers completely enveloping hers in his grip. "Almost everything that happened on the Normandy sounds loco to people who weren't there. You get used to not talking about it."

"Or you do what you did, and hook up with someone who was there," James pointed out.

Sam leaned back in her chair and chuckled. "Well, yeah, there is that. But I don't know, James, I think your choices might be kinda limited. Tali has a partner now…"

"Sparks is cute, but the helmet is kind of a deal breaker for me. Too much work for a simple beso."

"Liara is too busy playing Shadow Broker to date much…"

"Blue is even cuter than Sparks, but I don't like to date women who already know all my deep, dark secrets. And can kill me with a flick of the wrist."

"So I'm guessing Jack is out of the question," Sam added with an impish grin.

"Pffft. All those tats are hot, but chica's just straight up psycho."

"I guess you're out of luck then," Sam teased.

""Yeah, I guess so." James' reply seemed so genuinely glum that it took Sam by surprise.

"Look, James," she said, "Cassie is great, and she might be more open to hearing about your crazy past than you think, if you give her a chance."

"It's hard to get close to people when you have to keep a part of yourself hidden from them. There are very few people in this world that I can truly be myself around, without worrying about what they think of me." James' heavy gaze was surprisingly vulnerable, and that - combined with his uncharacteristic candor - caused Sam to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"Look, James. Maybe it's Cassie, and maybe it isn't - but the right one is out there."

"You really believe in that?"

"Of course." At James' skeptical look, Sam qualified, "Look, I'm not saying it's gonna be happily ever after. No relationship is perfect. But perfect for you? She's out there."

Sam felt a twinge of guilt as she relayed this. She really did believe in the concept of soulmates, if that's what you wanted to call it - a person who fit with you like the other half of a puzzle piece. The one who made you better, stronger and happier than you were previously. She believed this because she had been lucky enough to find that person.

But as it turned out, finding the person was only half of the battle. Then you had to figure out how to live with them.

That, however, was a discussion for another night.

"And if not," Sam added, hiding a grin behind her coffee mug as she took another sip of the rapidly cooling beverage, "Hope is more than willing to fill those shoes someday."

"You best not even joke about that, Lola," James admonished. "You think your hubby hates me now? Dios mio."

"He doesn't hate you," Sam said, which was true, despite James' snort of derision. Jeff had disliked James from the moment they'd met - and the feeling had been somewhat mutual - but the two men had developed a grudging respect over the years. The issue was not with James personally, but with Jeff's inevitable jealousy toward any man in Sam's life, other than himself. Which was a problem, especially because Sam was the type of woman who got along much better with men than with women, in general.

Intellectually, Sam knew Jeff's possessiveness had nothing to do with her - or her behavior - but was merely a result of his own insecurities. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to deal with, however. Over the years, Jeff had learned to hide his feelings better, but Sam still knew when the green-eyed monster was lurking just beneath the surface. Like earlier tonight, when she'd decided to stay at the restaurant with James rather than return with him to the hotel.

"Yeah, well," James demurred, as if reading her thoughts, "I still think it's better for me if I just keep my hands to myself where the Shepard women are concerned."

When Sam got back to the suite, the door to Hope's bedroom was slightly ajar, but no light seeped from the interior. In the master bedroom, a lamp glowed dimly from one of the nightstands - but Jeff was on his side, facing away from her, shoulder rising and falling with his quiet respiration. She tiptoed to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes, brushed her teeth, and crept to the bed. Jeff stirred as she pressed against his bare back, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Have fun?" he mumbled, sleepily, tucking her arm under his to pull her closer.

"Yes. Thank you," Sam murmured, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"Sure," Jeff answered, thinking she was talking about him bringing Hope back to the hotel so that she and James could have some time together.

But Sam had something else on her mind.

"It would suck to not have anyone to talk to about - you know, before."

Jeff didn't have to ask what she meant by before. Given where they were, why they were there, and who she had spent the evening with, it was fairly obvious. Rolling onto his back, he squinted blearily up into his wife's eyes. "Yeah, I think so, too."

Sam placed an affectionate palm against his cheek. "So, you know - thanks for sticking around."

"Back at ya, mamacita." They shared a kiss before Sam settled against him again. But the conversation with James - as well as the memories it had stirred up - had left her uneasy, and it was a long time before she fell into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of coldness, and darkness, and death.

The next day dawned dark and dreary, suiting Sam's mood. She was trying to get the hotel room's coffee maker operating when Hope stumbled out from the suite's second bedroom in her pajamas, looking far too surly for that early in the morning.

I need caffeine, Sam thought to herself. Don't know what her excuse is.

"Do I really have to go to this stupid thing?" Hope grumbled.

"Yes. Go get dressed," Sam replied, her tone brooking no further debate on the matter. The girl about-faced and returned to her room, muttering under her breath.

Fat raindrops began beating a rhythmic cadence on the hermetically sealed windows as Jeff emerged from the master bedroom. Sam inspected him, quizzically.

"No uniform?" She was fully decked out in her dress blues. It wasn't necessary, of course - but out of respect, they had always donned their uniforms during this annual pilgrimage in the past.

"I forgot to pack it," Jeff mumbled, his eyes sliding away in a gesture that reliably indicated deception. Even after all these years, he couldn't look her in the eye and lie. What Sam couldn't fathom is why he would fib about something so inconsequential.

Hot coffee began to drip from the machine, and Sam filled two travel mugs. Jeff accepted his with a grateful nod. Hope emerged once again, still looking dour but presentable in jeans and a long-sleeved blouse.

The three of them stood in a mute circle, each dreading the task ahead for their own reasons. Finally, Jeff broke the silence. "Well, shall we get this over with?" Reluctantly, they gathered coats and umbrellas, and headed out to brave the storm.

By the time they met James at the entrance to the Alliance Freedom Memorial, the downpour had slowed to a drizzle. James had donned his uniform, as well, and even many years removed from the field of battle, he and Sam still cut impressive figures as they began to follow the path traversing the wall of names. Jeff and Hope followed reluctantly in their wake.

Sam perused the names as they roamed the perimeter, offering up a silent thanks to each and every unknown soldier who had given their life so that she could have hers. She heard a snicker from behind, and snapped her head around to catch her daughter surreptitiously punching buttons on her comm.

"Put it away," Sam ordered, irritated.

"But this is so bor-ing!" Hope objected.

"Put it away, or I'm going to take it away."

"Why are you always so mean?"

Sam's face flushed with anger as she snatched the device out of her daughter's hand. "If it weren't for the names on this wall, none of us would be here right now, including you. So knock it off."

A group of nearby visitors was regarding them curiously, having certainly overheard at least the end of Sam's reprimand. Although Hope's eyes were wide and watery with the rebuke, her mouth was set in an obstinate line. The tween glanced at the onlookers before ducking her head in embarrassment, but she remained silent.

Jeff's eyes skewered Sam with quiet disapproval as he put his arm around his daughter, but Sam pretended not to notice. Turning her back on her sulking daughter and disgruntled husband, she continued along the path. Beside her, James whispered sotto voce, "Why are you always so mean?"

"Bite me." Sam was in no mood to be mocked.

"I appreciate the invitation, Lola, but right here, in front of your husband and daughter?" When Sam merely regarded him with flat eyes, James held up his hands in surrender. "You were a little hard on her, doncha think?"

"That kind of disrespect drives me crazy," Sam gritted out.

"I know, but she's young."

"She's old enough to know better," Sam objected.

"That may be, and I know it's not in your nature to pull any punches, which I've always appreciated. But she's just a kid, Lola. Sometimes you gotta cut her some slack."

This was something that Sam had never fully grasped - the collective conspiracy by adults to shelter children from the realities of life. Granted, there were some topics that Hope wasn't yet mature enough to handle. But she also didn't think it would hurt her daughter to understand some hard truths - the galaxy was a rough place, and living in a fantasy world did not prepare one for survival.

Sam and Jeff disagreed about this all the time. Sure, the galaxy can be cruel, he would argue, but it's our job to protect her from all that.

As someone who had never had anyone other than herself to depend upon, Sam couldn't help but think, But what if we're not able to be there to protect her? She wanted her daughter to be able to rely on herself, if necessary.

They were nearing the end of the second memorial wall and approaching the replica of the Normandy's monument when the clouds broke and a dazzling ray of sunshine bathed their location in light and warmth. Despite the positive omen, Sam's steps slowed of their own volition as they grew nearer to their final destination.

As always, Sam's eyes were drawn immediately to Garrus' name, and she stretched out a hand to trace the letters etched in the stone. "Miss you, old friend," she whispered. Despite his displeasure with her public outburst at Hope, Jeff stepped to Sam's side, offering his presence as comfort. She took his hand with a grateful smile.

Watching her parents, the solemnity of the moment struck Hope in a way that it never had during their previous visits. Their family had been coming to this place every year since she'd been born. Of course, Hope didn't remember those early pilgrimages, anymore than she remembered living in this city. As she'd gotten older, these trips had been an exciting opportunity to see Uncle James and escape the monotony of life on Tiptree. And for the past few years, it had been a tedious chore - while other kids her age went away to camp, or visited theme parks, she was stuck here, poring over the endless names of the faceless dead.

Hope's gaze drifted reluctantly to the enormous ebony obelisk in front of her. Perhaps it was her mother's earlier reprimand, or maybe merely the onset of maturity, but it occurred to Hope now that these weren't just anonymous names to her parents. They'd known these people. Hope had never personally known anyone who had died - well, except old people, like the grandparents of friends, and they didn't count - but she considered now how it would feel if someone she knew were just gone forever. It was hard for her to even imagine someone her age dying, but her parents were older - what if they died? As annoying as they could be, Hope couldn't imagine her life without either one of them.

Her mind filling with unfamiliar feelings of anxiety and dread, Hope huddled closer to her mother on the side opposite where her dad was standing. Meekly, she asked, "These are the people from the Normandy, right? Your ship?"

Surprised, but grateful for Hope's sudden interest, Sam wrapped her arm around her daughter, pulling her close. "Yes, all of these people served on the Normandy with your dad and I. Uncle James knew some of them, too, although he joined us later," Sam added, attempting to include her friend, who had hung back to allow them some privacy. James nodded his acknowledgment, but didn't make any attempt to intrude on the family moment.

Hope looked up at her parents. "And some of them were aliens?" This fact fascinated her. There were no aliens living on Tiptree.

Sam smiled. "We had all kinds of aliens on the Normandy, at one time or another. Asari, turians, salarians…"

"Krogan," Jeff added, wrinkling his nose, and Sam laughed.

"Your dad's favorite," Sam teased, nudging Jeff good-naturedly.

"Can't ever get rid of the smell," Jeff muttered, shaking his head.

Sam turned back to Hope. "One of my best friends, Garrus, was a turian."

Hope had heard this story before, more than once. "He died in the battle here, in London," she recalled. "The one where Uncle James lost his leg, and you almost died." She looked to the adults for confirmation.

"Would have, if the best pilot in the Alliance hadn't saved my ass. Again," Sam affirmed, looking at Jeff with affection. But he seemed not to be paying attention, his gaze turned away from them and focused somewhere in the distance with a frown. "Hey," Sam said with a gentle prod, "you still with us?"

"Hmm?" Jeff said, turning back to them.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." An unmistakable musical tinkling came from the park's entrance, and Jeff said, "What do you say we get out of here and get some ice cream?"

Thoughts of mortality vanished in an instant. "I want ice cream!" Hope begged. "Can we, Mom?"

Some things never change, Sam mused, no matter how old they get. Sam turned her attention to Jeff, perplexed by his odd demeanor. He'd been quiet and aloof all day, as reluctant a participant in this outing as Hope. But his expression betrayed nothing of what was going on in his mind, and he refused to meet her eyes. Finally, Sam shrugged. "Sure, we can get ice cream."

"Yay!" Hope took off down the path.

"Stay where I can see you!" Jeff called as he struggled to keep pace.

"Guess we're done grieving for today," Sam remarked with droll resignation as she watched her family beat a hasty retreat.

"Looks that way," James agreed.

Sam pressed her palm to the massive headstone, saying one last farewell to the dead, before rejoining the land of the living.

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there, whether you've given birth or not. If you have someone - or something - that depends on you for survival, then you're a mom - whether it's a child, a pet, or a house plant. And as Sam knows all too well, being a mom is the most rewarding - and difficult - job in the world (or galaxy.) Wishing you all a wonderful day. ~Jacks