Authors Note: Thank you for showing interest in reading my story and I hope you enjoy. I just wanted to give a heads up that Trigger Warnings are in effect. Mentions of violence, torture, physiological and physical, mentions of rape and suicidal thoughts and attempts are within this story as well as eventual strong sexual content. If you are unable to read explicit material than my apologies, this story is not for you. This will be a slow burn as Feron heals through this tale of being able to find a reason to live, and to love. Non-canon-ish but takes place after his rescue from the Shadow Brokers base.

Chapter 1

Two years.

Eight hundred and forty six days to be exact.

The actual number only discovered after he had been rescued by Commander Shepard.

Yeah... that Commander Shepard. Survivor of the Skyllian Blitz, Hero of the Citadel. The bringer of swift justice and even bigger punishment if your luck was not in her favor. Just her name alone would make someone hesitate. A specter. The council's personal bad asses operating above the law.

Not like him. He had only ever kept himself right below it. Operating in shadows and in the bowels of the underground. He was no one. He should have died that way too.

Friends complicated things. Caring about something meant that there was an existing substance that could be used against you. The target didn't matter. Survive, move on. No attachments. Get your credits. On to the next one.

Liara T'Soni, a passionate and pushy asari that had him scrambling to find Commander Shepard's body. He was supposed to double cross her. Bring Shepard's body to the Shadow Broker instead, but that was before he had found out about the collectors. That, and Liara's unwavering belief.

Commander Shepard could save them. Her conviction had somehow sunk beneath his scales.

Eight hundred and forty six days worth of it.

He could have never kept count even if he wanted to. Mornings, night and days, all melding into one. A constant unending chain of misery, an eternity of screams and despair. Until he could take no more and the agony left him falling towards unconsciousness. His only salvation when pain was all that was left. Awake long enough to keep his throat raw from screaming. Fainting when his body could take no more. Awakening to start again.

Patches of scales had slowly been ripped from his body. People forced to watch from the upper platforms. Many he had worked with on previous missions. Knife cuts left open to bleed out. Bones broken and mended only to be broken again. He had tried to starve himself but that only resulted in forced feedings and electroshock, water torture and needles under his fingernails. Hung by his wrists without food or water for days, only to be dropped down weakly for agents to beat the shit out of him. Past close coworkers motivated by the death of their families for noncompliance. Healed to start the process all over again. More forced feedings and drugs. Mind games and psychological torment. No one was coming, and the pain would never cease. He had sacrificed himself for a cause that was only a small bump to be paved over quickly.

The most painful was the chair. The Shadow Broker's favorite toy. Strapped into it for days and weeks on end. Shocked every hour or whenever he had started to fall asleep. When he had tried to bite his tongue to let himself bleed out, agents had shoved metal rods into his mouth to force it open, cutting into his jaw and gums. Vomiting bile when no food and only blood had filled his stomach to the point of sickness.

Every time his heart had stopped, he had found himself a moment of peace, only to be jolted back, to start the process again. It took everything for him to hold onto that small dying hope. Commander Shepard would live again, and one day, even though he wouldn't survive to see it, she would stop what was coming. Liara believed it. She had made him believe it too. Perhaps if fate was lucky, someone would eventually get to the Shadow Broker and blow up his shitty ship, skull fuck him for good measure. That small thought was the only one that brought a grin to his lips.

This is what loyalty got you. Years of perfect loyalty. Of being one of the best, turning down every job opportunity out of that single feeling. Perfectly belonging somewhere. Knowing your place. Being looked at by colleagues as an example of what life could be like for perfect service.

He had been made into the perfect example alright.

Eight hundred and forty six days of examples.

In the end, this was what he deserved in his betrayal… for believing in something. Letting someone get to him.

Pain never ending.


The first night free he didn't know what to do with himself. Unable to find the comfort or peace he had desperately longed for. His body and mind had trouble easing into the quiet, tensing every few seconds, waiting for the impending pain or shock. His nerve endings confused as a dull ache took over his entirety. Body, mind and soul. What was left of it anyway…

He had trouble comprehending his rescue. Liara and Commander Shepard had come for him. They had killed the Shadow Broker, took his base and killed the staff that was still loyal in the process.

Eight hundred and forty six days worth the wait.

Without thinking he had pulled his wrecked body from the medical bed, yanking out the IV's and medication lines pumping whatever miracle shit they had been trying to give him. Some of the same people who were forced to torture him, now trying to turn savior.

He didn't need their help. They had already done enough.

Immediately his body had given out, legs unresponsive as he grunted and hissed in agony slamming himself against the clinic floor. Resigned to drag himself to the showers. Trails of blood and grime, things he didn't even want to imagine as he moved, smearing the ground as he went. Blood soaking his hospital gown.

Could you bleed out from yanking several IV lines?

Eventually he had made it to the showers, pulling himself over the rim, crashing heavily upon the tiles, exhaustion consuming him. Appendages unused for eight hundred and forty six days. The brutal fresh welts of newly healed flesh puckered and raw, stinging as he forced his body to reach towards the knobs. Grunting and hissing as he cursed trying to get to them on his own. He had blasted that water with full heat on, and laid there in triumph as it hit his body like a wet sun, a dying animal left out in the rain.

He had watched in morbid fascination as dark liquid spiraled down into the drain, feces, dirt and blood, swirling into the tiny opening. If he had just enough strength, a piece of clothing perhaps, than he could plug the small hole and drown in the three inches that would be required to fill the rim. How long until someone would see the water spilling out? How much time would it take for it to fill? Would it be enough for him to slip into a memory and not choke enough to bring him out of it until it was over?

Medical staff had found him just as he had wriggled one arm free of his gown.


Why did healing always feel worse than dying?

He had trouble focusing on Liara as she spoke, her mouth moving but only jumbled sounds of incoherent words and sentences that didn't make sense coming out. She was the new Shadow Broker. Normandy. Commander Shepard. Severe nerve damage. Better medical staff.

He was done with the Shadow Broker base. There was nothing here for him now. He was done with everything; everyone. At least he had lived long enough to know that the Commander had been brought back. His last hope had not been in vain.

His world now only held colors of black and grey.

The first night he had been transferred to the Normandy the human doctor had been kind and gentle. Making him as comfortable as possible. So concerned about his wellbeing, it made him sick to his stomach. A forced smile on his lips, worse than all those countless times he had vomited blood. His quiet and curt reply to her questions giving the illusion that he had just needed some rest. Leaving him in peace long enough to palm a tiny instrument from her tray table as she moved everything away bringing him to a comfortable position for sleep.

He never slept now. Nightmares were worse than the emptiness of being awake.

He had stayed unmoving, waiting patiently for the ships night cycle, pretending to be asleep when the rest of the medical staff had checked on him one last time. The head doctor nowhere in sight as the lights dimmed just as he slipped the tiny blade free. His hand convulsing so violently he thought he might drop the knife, the shaking preventing him from lining the blade against his vein properly. The rise of blood over his scales wrong when he attempted to move the edge and try again. His senses so focused on the task, he never realized someone had come in until a firm hand had gone over his to steady the trembling. His whole body tensed and retaliated from the touch, but the hold never wavered, calm against his raging storm.

"Are you certain this is the action you wish to carry out?"

There was no judgement in the voice. Just gentle understanding as he glanced up at the unwanted intruder. Thane, the other person who had rescued him. He had heard whisper's that he was Shepard's fal harahl. That they were deeply in love. Being near him now, he could smell her all over him.

It tasted like dead hope and empty dreams.

Tears threatened to escape his eyes, hand slackening in Thane's hold, frustration squeezing his lungs. Not enough to suffocate him though. The small knife was taken from his grip easily as the last of his built up strength slipped away. All his courage going with it. Thane released him as his nerves immediately relaxed without the contact while he moved to the opposite side of the room and placed the missing utensil on the tray he had taken it from. He moved his fingers slowly, aligning the metal flawlessly with the others before slipping his hands behind his back turning to look at him, standing up straight and proud. The pose natural to those trained in the compact. A pose he had taken during his own childhood countlessly.

"You know…" Feron started, trying to find his words. Swallowing roughly before slipping a natural smile over his lips, a practiced coy grin. "If you want you could help me. Save me the trouble of trying to get that again later."

"Siha would be most displeased if I let you die under her watch."

Feron licked his cracked lips and turned his head away from the male's penetrating gaze. This fucking guy. He couldn't have waited a few more minutes before coming in?

"I can pay you." The thought occurred to him. That's what the compact still was, wasn't it? Everyone valued credits over everything else. He only knew greed, and double crossings. Everyone had a price. Even him in the end. A single human woman and her crazy asari friend, a change of heart that had cost him everything he had worked hard for. "You used to be an assassin, right? I heard you were freelance for a while. If it's just money, I can-"

"That life is no longer mine. Weather you live or die is not my choice to make."

"Then whose is it?" He bit out venomously. "Since you clearly just indicated by your actions that it's not mine either."

Thane glanced down thoughtfully before blinking and glancing back at him stoically. He turned slowly, every movement calculated, nothing wasted or done unnecessarily. He picked the scalpel back up and approached him. Every step a heartbeat of eternity. Feron took a deep steady breath, the pain in his ribs excruciating. He closed his eyes. He was ready for this. It was way past his time.

Thane touched his hand gingerly. His arm automatically jerking away without volition but Thane persisted and coaxed his clenched fist free. Sliding the instrument back against his palm before letting go. Feron met his eyes in confusion, trying to find something upon his calm and unreadable face. Nothing to be found. He tried to get his fingers to work again, shaking as he grasped the cool metal within his hand. No footsteps as Thane took a step away, watching him with a weight that could crush a black hole.

"The wheels of fate will always turn, in the end, entropy wins. Entropy will always win. Make the choice now. Make it later. Many don't even get that, but think about your choice carefully."

"So what? I should consider myself lucky?"

"We are all here for a purpose. Do not rush so quickly to Kalahira's shore when fate seems to have other plans for you."

"Plans? Fate? There is nothing left for me but death. That's the plan. That's my plan."

Thane blinked again slowly slipping his hands behind him. Green irises trailing over him thoughtfully. Something hidden within their depths shining through for a brief moment before disappearing back within obsidian darkness.

"Everyone has a reason to live. You need to give yourself a chance to find what makes yours worth living again."


"No! No!" He screamed, tears coursing down his cheeks using whatever strength he could muster to fight the nurses who were trying to hold him down, restraints being put around his wrists. Multiple hands trying to hold him down to tighten the bands to the sides of the bed. The flash of white panic blinding him to everything but the pressure on his arms. He couldn't breathe, a fire raging in his chest from the lack of air. He lashed out, catching one of the assailants in the chest, pushing him with all his strength. A loud crashing sound as they hit something on their way down.

Three more to go.

He yanked his arm free ready to strike at another, the sharp jab of a needle in his throat snapping his eyes wide open, another burst of fresh tears spilling over his frills just as his senses got blurred. Waves of light and muffled words. He groaned and grimaced fighting through the murky waters beginning to swallow him whole. He still couldn't catch his breath, couldn't think. His sights growing dimmer.

The choice was made for you now. This was what you wanted, wasn't it?

You deserve this.

He leaned back against whatever he fell on, staring at the ceiling, hazy and blurred unblinking. Why was he even here? All his thoughts leaving him. Why was this happening?

"What the fuck is the matter with you? Get those off his wrists now! Get Chakwas in here! Move your ass!" He heard someone yell in anger, vaguely aware of them rushing forward. His personal angel of death. Her hands nimbly unlatching whatever held his hands down, his body weighted with stone's. Green eyes of his personal deity burning in wrath and fury.

Kalahira has finally sent someone to take me.

"Commander. We found a scalpel in his bed, blood on his wrist and sheets. This is for his own protection."

"Christ."

"Siha, I can explain…"

Feron blinked at the voices trying to comprehend the rest, words getting jumbled. Gravel and sand sliding down a mountain side. Verna…

'Soft wind grazing over my skin, feet sliding over stone, speed increasing. Laughter escapes, muscles straining, coiling to stay afoot. Fingers slacken over the hilt of the knife. Bioluminescence flickering disapprovingly, my laughter gets louder. Grey eyes glance up in confusion, my legs spring with all my strength. 'Catch me!' my voice rings out higher than I intend. The human male turns towards me in alarm, arms raised. I leap, reach for him. Hands tightly coming around me protectively. 'What are you doing here?' voice full of concern. 'Thanks for catching me' I smile, his eyes dulling, hand tensing, blade sliding into his sternum.'


The next day Thane had entered when everyone else had already left for the sleep cycle. Feron didn't even acknowledge him, just kept his gaze transfixed on the ceiling. His body and mind completely drained, still trying to find his way back from whatever was injected into his neck the morning prior. What they still kept giving him.

Everything still felt like a dream. Like he was looking through a fog, his body swimming through a tide as he fought to stay afloat. Did the male change his mind? Was here to help kill him? His pathetic state giving him a reason to show mercy? Feron's eyes filled with tears again, a sigh of relief. He wouldn't be able to do anything now. The drugs they kept pumping into him keeping him suspended in a place of nonbeing. He just wanted the emptiness to end. The darkness to take him. No more pain. No more anything. He just wanted to find peace.

He heard the gentle scrape of a chair as he stayed unmoving, not even caring if whatever was going to happen would hurt. Nothing could hurt worse than what he had already endured. The pain of having to live one more minute. An ache in his entire being that never ceased. He closed his eyes patiently.

Kalahira, Goddess of inscrutable depths…whose waves wear down stone and sand…

After a few moments of silence he suddenly heard Thane's voice, soft and gentle.

"Arashu goddess of motherhood and protection, this one's heart has been emptied and obstructed from your light. Arashu, mother of devotion and purity, this one has come to you in darkness seeking light. Arashu, mother of all who-"

Thane's voice became muddled to his ears as the tears fell in heavy bursts drowning out any hope and slipping him further into despair.

He didn't want hope...

He wanted death...


"I've been meaning to ask you something." Feron murmured just as Thane was entering another prayer. His habit of coming in every night expected but still unwelcome. He wondered if perhaps Shepard was on a mission, or if Thane was just bored. Shouldn't he be fucking her or something, anything other than wasting his time reading his prayer book to him every night for the last fifteen sleep cycles?

He stopped reading and looked up at him. Patience and years of seeing the horrors that this galaxy had to offer. Did he ever feel lost? What made him keep going before Shepard had entered the picture? He was lucky to have left the compact like him. Many of the drells that served never lived to whatever the hell his age was. Older. Older than him. Like daddy old to Shepard. Or maybe that was just the illusion he gave because of his quiet stuck up personality.

"You told me to find a reason to make my life worth living. How do you keep going, when you can't feel anything?"

"You are disconnected. I once was too. I walked to my death. Accepted it as you do now."

"Yeah?" Feron tilled mockingly. "You don't seem resigned to death anymore. Shepard gave you that hard on and you were ready to live and fight another day?"

Thane blinked slowly, Feron knew he had struck a nerve. A moment of silence before he spoke again. "Arashu gave me a second chance. Two gifts to make my life worth living, awakening me from my battle sleep."

"Two? I thought I was greedy."

Thane chuckled deeply, closing the prayer book upon his lap before rising from the chair, bowing in departure. He placed the book upon Feron's side table before the weight of that unending stare met his. How the hell did Shepard even fall for a guy like this? "I will be leaving with Siha on a mission tomorrow. Hold on to this for me."

"Sure. They won't give me my omnitool. There's nothing else to jerk off to around here anyway."

The disapproving till in Thane's throat was worth the blasphemy and any punishment Kalahira would give him for that statement.


"You mentioned two reasons." Feron cut Thane off in the middle of a prayer about healing the spirit or some other shit he wasn't fully paying attention to. He hated the fact that he was actually looking forward to the company of the other male now and the dull conversations they sometimes had. Philosophy and spiritual… whatever the fucked his small exchanges had him opening his mouth about. Feron's new past time was trying to think of something outrageous to catch him off guard with.

"I have my genius moments but it doesn't take one to figure out Shepard is one of your reasons for living. What's the second?"

Thane didn't answer him, nor gave any other indication that he had heard him other than slipping into silence. Just like all the other stuffy people trained by the Hanar. Or maybe it was just an annoying Thane habit.

Unreadable prude.

"It's something stupid isn't it? Something spiritual? Asari candy? Volus porn? You like to splosh?" Feron turned his head and grinned shamelessly. "That's disgusting by the way. I figured you more for the S & M kind of guy. I'd rather eat food. Not wear it, but everyone has their thing. Even if you secretly liked to be spanked."

The other male ignored him as he continued reading silently, waiting a long moment before he finally answered. "My son."

The eventual reply surprised him and he felt a flood of questions rise to the surface. This guy had a son? How old was he? Where was he? If he was with Shepard now, obviously the mother was either dead or had released him from the bonding. Did he give his son to the Compact? Or was he holed up somewhere for safe keeping? Was he on the ship? How the hell did he freelance and keep his son around? Was he being philosophical and not referring to some spiritual shit about blah, blah, blah, prayer and hope for his son's memory or something, or was his son actually alive and well? Goddess forbid… there was another stuck up Krios around?

"You amaze me Feron." Feron looked at him and purred for clarity, unsure of his words. Thane avoided his stare and closed the book quietly before rising, his words coming out with unembellished venom. "Even you can be made to shut up every once in a while."

Feron glared at him and growled aggressively. "Not that I love your visits or anything but you're lucky I can't walk, because you're an asshole."

Thane's lips quirked just as he left the room.

Smug fucker.


"How old is your son? I've been really curious about this. I mean you're not exactly spritely but he's still a child right? Where is he?" Thane ignored him and continued reading. "Come on… you're not going to talk about him at all? Does he have your charming personality too, or do people actually like him?"

After another moment of silence Feron huffed in aggravation and fell back against his pillows sighing dramatically. He stared at the ceiling blinking several times before Thane's voice trailed over to him quietly, the prayer of calling drifting from his lips like a lovers whisper. For a single heartbeat Feron could feel himself wanting to join in. Instead he closed his eyes and listened to the males tone and pitch. Smooth sand wearing down stone. Kalahira's once faithful servant. Not his death bringer though.

Feron could hear the belief so strongly in his voice. The love and purity of his prayers. All that hope and devotion pouring out of him like a beacon. He continued listening, he didn't have a choice, but this time unlike all the others, he gave in and allowed the prayer to wash over him. Just a moment, a single painful moment, until emptiness was the only thing he could feel sucking away every fiber of his being.

He hated Thane in this moment. Hated him because he had found himself. Hated himself because he would never feel any different. No matter how much breath of prayer was wasted on him.

Nothing… that's what was left for him. His only reprieve.

Opening his eyes he blinked back his rising hatred, fires bubbling like a pit within his gut, grasping onto the handrails he pulled himself up to a sitting position, pain shooting through every nerve ending. He grunted and adjusted himself trying his best to will his legs to work, his feet to move. Sucking in sharp breaths when lightening seized his lower back giving him pause. Just long enough to make eye contact with the other drell as he waited for the pain to subside.

"It's not too much to ask if you could bust me out of here, could you? I've been in this bed for weeks. Or at least throw my ass out the airlock or something? I need some excitement. You're really boring, no offense of course."

"Of course." Thane answered dryly. "I do not think the doctor or Siha will agree to either of your requests."

"Come on, you whipped? I won't tell anyone. Promise." Feron purred coaxingly only resulting in a blank stare from the other male.

"The answer you are looking for, is no."

Feron sucked his teeth and growled in disgust. "So what are you, my babysitter; my caregiver? Thanks dad. I promise I'll be home for dinner." Feron snickered yanking back the bed sheets before grasping the railing again pulling himself to the edge of the bed. Fuck this guy. No omnitool. Nothing to do but read that stupid prayer book. He could recite it word for word from memory now.

He slowly moved his legs until they hung from the bed, gauging the distance from where he was to the counter. If he pushed himself he could make it if his arms held the weight. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but that was before his muscle deterioration from starvation and his exciting two year vacation. Every day he could feel himself getting a little stronger now, a little sharper, a little more stir crazy. That human doctor Chakwas said his body was healing nicely. That it would take some time for him to get back to where he was, but it would happen.

It was taking too damn long… and now he was just a prisoner under a different circumstance because of it. They wanted him to heal? He needed something to do. Unfortunately, you couldn't die from boredom, but he was losing his fucking mind because of it. His hands itched to feel a computer board again, some kind of tech to run beneath his fingertips, something to dabble with and keep his attention.

"Your IV's are going to get caught." Thane stated plainly breaking him from his thoughts. Feron looked down at his arms noticing the tangled lines, several drips of medication. One, probably the drugs they were still giving him to keep him calm, sometimes forcing him to sleep. He ripped out one of them immediately, a purr of disapproval resonating from Thane's throat as blood trailed down his arm heavily. He ignored him and pulled himself against the railing revving up to make the leap to the counter. If he gauged it right he could shimmy himself over it and towards the other bed, reaching the wheelchair from there.

Fuck Thane. He could make a break for it without his help.

His muscles coiled as he moved his hands, a shock of pain and panic choking him in alarm when he felt something wrap around his arm. He swung blindly, recoiling like he'd been burned, slamming against the bed as agony shot through his spine. Groaning in a sharp intake of air from the shock of the twitch his mind perceived the oncoming lashes; a breaking bone; a slash of a knife. Holding his breath it took him a minute to realize that the strike of agony was a phantom pain, his senses left baffled from the missing strike. Blinking back a rising memory he focused on the male who had caught his fist easily. A cloth pushed against his bleeding scales. Black scales concealing a flash of emerald, unending patience within a calm ocean of unending mystery.

He did his best to bring his breathing back under control before he pulled his bleeding arm against his chest protectively, out of Thane's hold. His other hand back against the railing, clutching it like a life line preventing him from sinking into the abyss. The prison of his mind where everything waited in memories of horror. A fingerprint away from making him lose himself.

"Don't touch me." He murmured heatedly not in the slightest ashamed when he hissed in warning viciously.

Thane narrowed his eyes dropping the cloth on the bed before holding both of his hands up carefully easing his way from the bed. Feron hissed again, sucking in quick heavy breaths. He knew his eyes were probably blazing and he could only focus on trying to bring his anxiety under control, as he was on the cusp of losing his shit.

He licked his lips and let his hands fall to his lap, swallowing down the stones in his throat, feeling all his cares slip away once again into the void. Closing his eyes he took a single deep breath, before releasing it in jagged bursts, his eyes snapping open when he heard Thane shift before him making a move to sit back in the chair he previously occupied.

"I changed my mind." He gurgled, forcing his voice to the surface, swallowed up by the oncoming tidal wave. "Can you leave? I just want to go to sleep now."

The male hesitated, eyes roaming over him critically. Feron hummed his intentions, the lie easily slipping from his ribbing from years of practice. "I'm ok. I'm just really tired now."

"I can stay with you a little longer."

"Doesn't your woman miss you?"

"Shepard is on a mission right now."

"And she chose to leave you behind." Feron snickered coughing as he choked back a laugh.

"I chose to stay behind."

Feron held his breath from the emotion that slipped upon Thane's features. Care and kindness, something else that made him hesitate, something never directed at him before. No… that wasn't it. Thane pitied him. The only reason he was probably even here was because of his connection to Shepard. Feron had sacrificed himself so Liara could escape with Shepard's remains in order for her to be brought back to life by Cerberus. She was here because of him. Now Thane was here, because of her. He didn't want anyone to feel as if they owed him.

No attachments. Just move on.

"I'm tired Thane. Please don't make me sit through another prayer. Not right now."

Thane nodded slowly and rose from his seat leaving the prayer book on his side table as he moved to the entry way. Dimming the lights he bowed his head politely and finally left him in peace. An immediate sigh of relief releasing from his chest as Feron fell back against his pillows in reprieve. Didn't anyone understand that he had just wanted to be left alone?

For a long while he just stared at the ceiling trying to clear his mind from everything that still haunted him. A thousand memories desperately ready to dig their claws and drag him back to a moment of helplessness. He had spent every waking minute since, consciously making an effort not to get lost in the bad. How much longer could this go on before he lost himself completely? Muscles constantly twitching involuntarily, waiting for the anticipated pain that no longer came. There was no one… no reason for him to go on. No destiny waiting for him beyond tomorrow. Disconnection completely setting in now. The hollow feeling in his chest spreading into every nerve ending of his being. Soul completely closed off.

He felt like a shell existing in limbo.

Feron searched around for the IV line until his fingers clasped around the needle rubbing the moisture from his eyes to see clearly. The tip blurred as his perception was distorted from the unceasing moisture, the sound of waves rushing in his ears.

Kalahira, Goddess of inscrutable depths…

Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand…

He found the spot and pushed the needle beneath a patch of scales.


It was hot and perfect. Stretching his neck he tilted his head back against the scorching heat of the sun, smiling as a feeling of bliss calmed his soul. Shielding his eyes he opened them sluggishly, blinking past the bright lights and blinding rays. Taking a moment for his eyes to adjust he glanced down at his bare feet, sinking into the hot sand beneath. The grainy texture squishing between his toes as he wiggled his feet, a smile spreading across his lips in delight.

He hesitated and glanced around trying to pull upon where he was or what he had been doing. Nothing able to be recalled. The waves caught his attention, the perfect clear blue of oceans never ending upon the horizon. He crouched down and stuck his hands in the sand, grabbing it in large handfuls in glee, creating a small pile before he sat down ready to move more sand compacting it together.

"You have no idea where you are, yet the first thing you do is try to build something in the sand?"

Feron glanced up at the unfamiliar voice, blinking in hesitation from the unknown presence. His frills heating as soon as their eyes met, stomach fluttering uncomfortably. He chuckled and glanced back down at his small mountain of sand, embarrassed at getting caught but nowhere ready to stop.

"You could help me you know. I'm sure we could build something really great together."

He looked back up at the male nervously, his irises brightening as a soft smile fell over his lips. The blue and green undertones of his scales catching the light making them shimmer just like the oceans beside him. Slowly the male fell to his knees beside him, picking up a nearby seashell ushering him to move over. Feron scooted over a little giving him room to work off of his already started project. Both of them working in silence watching the other as they took turns creating different shapes and piles adding small rocks or shells for decoration. Feron didn't know why, but something about this male felt safe. Perfect and warm, just like sun and sand. His beautiful scales and black strips stunning against the white material of his linen pants and sleeveless vest. His frills growing warmer the longer he stared.

"I'm Feron by the way."

The male glanced at him and smiled just as they finished placing the last shell down taking a moment to admire their work. "How long are you planning on staying here?"

"What do you mean?" Feron asked tilling in inquiry unsure of this males question. Did he have somewhere else to go? For some reason he had trouble recalling what he was doing before he got here.

"You don't belong here."

"Well that's rude." Feron snorted watching the male wipe his hands of the sand, blue eyes softening beneath his black ocular scales as he watched him. "I mean you didn't even tell me your name and already you're basically telling me to take a hike."

"Are you sure you want my name? Can you give me a reason?"

Feron blinked at him slowly, his chest tightening when a sudden pain laced through his side, a gasp escaping his throat. He coughed in confusion trying to catch his breath, an urgency to know this males name taking over him. "I…" He started again wanting to be witty, the need to see another smile on this males mouth driving him on.

Another sharp flash of agony bolted through his chest and Feron grasped the front of his white linen vest bunching the material in his palm as he leaned forward in shock. A slight reprieve before another wracked through his lungs like an erupting volcano. He gasped in terror, confused by the pain that jolted through his body, a hand on his chin guiding his face up to the stoic gaze of the male before him. Fingertips grazing over his frills intimately bending down to brush his lips gently against his before moving them to his ear.

One more explosion of agony tearing through his chest ceased all breaths as he keeled over upon the sand before the other male, crushing the castles they had spent so much time just building. He did his best to blink back the edges of unconsciousness, the feeling so familiar as he tried to make out what the male had whispered to him. Darkness taking over completely. The name and where he had just been, leaving him forever.

Kolyat…


"It's was a good thing we had another Drell aboard- a miracle really that you were the same blood type." He felt a brush against his scales. Silk tracing the back of his hand like a mothers testing caress. Voices far away and barely heard. Was this a dream?

"How long did his heart stop for?"

"Chakwas said forty-three seconds... I thought he was doing better."

"I believed it as well."

A pause. Another caress. Too much. The shift of cloth. A heavy exasperated breath. "He needs real help Thane."

"I know, Siha."

Mumbled words. Body like stone. Eyelids sealed shut.

"I just told Joker to take us back to the Citadel for resupply. I'm going to make arrangements with Huerta Memorial.

"That is best. I will contact Congregation as well. Have them reach out to him. I..."

"What is it?" Voice tender, filled with emotion he couldn't ever comprehend.

"There is something else. He... he said a name. I wish to discuss it with you when we retire."

A name? What name?

A moment later darkness embraced him and he succumbed willingly to dreamless sleep.


He had received an earful from Shepard when he had awoken. Forearms tied down to the sides of the bed. It was a conscious chore not to dwell on the pressure, to slip back into unpleasant memories from the restraints. She had stared at him sadly, 'you gave me no choice'. A prisoner again. He would never be free.

He was kept in a constant state of twilight, drifting in and out of consciousness. Shepard visited as much as she could. Thane and another human woman named Chambers. The happiness oozing off her making him hate her with all that was left within him. He asked her never to return when she had actually showed interest in stripping for him. The joke no longer enjoyable. He had hissed at her in warning when she had tried to touch him after that.

He was never left alone now. Chakwas and her medical staff never out of sight more than a second. His restraints never taken off, his state of twilight never ending. Sometimes he would awaken to Thane's prayer, another to Shepard's hand around his, doing his best to be civil when he pulled it from her grasp. Once, there had even been a Salarian scanning him, his voice going a mile a minute when he noticed he had awakened. Feron had never acknowledged him.

Eventually he was moved to Huerta Memorial on the Citadel. Different location, different people, same prisoner, same circumstance. This time however his restraints were removed. It didn't matter though. His will was now gone. That, and there was nothing in the room they had put him in to be creative with. At least the walls weren't padded.

Physical therapy and psychology appointments. They had changed his doctor three sessions in when his comments finally got to her. His ability to change the subject and thwart her inquiries finally getting to her. That, or she just really didn't want to go out on a date with him. He believed it was the first idea and not the latter. He knew she would eventually give in, if he kept pressing.

"Excuse me." He heard someone call from the hallway interrupting his busy schedule of staring at the blank wall in front of him. Who the hell did this person think they were for sidetracking him from such detrimental work?

He turned his head glancing at the unknown intruder, a wide grin immediately sliding over his lips cruelly. "I asked for an asari stripper, but if they sent you, I guess it'll do. Go slow. I like a good show."

The male drell frowned and took a step back until he was outside the door, his gaze running over the wall next to the entryway. Even from where he was, Feron could see the blue of his irises catching the light beneath his black ocular scales moving from side to side as he read his name and room number. The male eyes narrowed in confusion before he glanced back at him, hesitating at the doorway. Feron grinned in mirth waiting for the male's apology about coming into the wrong room or some nonsense before he would try to slip away as politely as possible.

Got to love the gracious Hanar upbringing.

Unexpectedly the male took a step over the threshold back into his room and he blinked in confusion when the drell closed the door behind him, grabbing the chair by the entryway bringing it to his bedside. Dread quickly gripping his stomach.

"Fuck… you're from Congregation aren't you? Look, no one likes a pushy fanatic. I'm not supposed to start until next month. You're making me regret my choice already."

The male stayed silent a moment longer smoothing his hand down his blue and black leather jacket as he adjusted himself in the chair more comfortably, his smooth liquid voice holding an edge of sensual promises whispered only in the dark.

"I'm not from Congregation, and I'm definitely not a stripper."

Feron narrowed his gaze as he ran his eyes completely over the male beside him. The typical leathers worn by his species, black and blue bordering turquois. Scales the color of oceans, blue with an undertone of green, a shimmer to them that was almost mesmerizing. Black markings covered the edges of his face ridges, black crescent moons facing outward from the pentagram scale on his forehead. There was something familiar about him, something harsh and carnal about the shape of his mouth. He wasn't able to stop the lascivious quirk of his lips as he continued to stare. Lewd ideas forming on the tip of his tongue.

"No? That's actually too bad. I don't think I would mind watching you strip for me."

The male blinked at him slowly, releasing a heavy deliberate breath of irritation. "I'm Kolyat Krios. My father sent me to visit you."

Feron could feel every single thought leave him as his insides turned to ice. "Krios?" He frowned letting the name leave his lips with a sour taste. "You're Thane's son?"

Kolyat purred in confirmation nodding his head politely. Feron sucked his teeth and chuckled without joy. "I thought his son was a child."

"It's ironic that you would say that." Kolyat started, catching Feron's gaze as he looked back at him. "The way father spoke about you. I expected a child as well. Maybe he wasn't wrong after all."

"Wow… yeah your definitely Thane's son. You're an asshole just like him."

Kolyat laughed gently, the smooth rumble making his stomach tighten. "He has his moments."

"Yeah? A whole lot of them. So, are you going to start praying too? Should I start snoring now or later?"

Kolyat shifted in his seat and glanced away thoughtfully. "I thought I was the only one he tortured with that."

"Well it's your unlucky day. You're not as special as you thought you were."

"No… you're the unlucky one." Kolyat corrected him.

Feron shifted himself against his pillows tilling in confusion, a conceited smile spreading across the male's lips before he leaned slightly towards him lowering his voice.

"It's too bad for you, because whatever you did to land yourself in this wing, you were put in as unfit to make your own decisions. Shepard released you into my custody… and right now… your life belongs to me."