This story is dedicated to two very special people: MayaPatch, for all her wonderful artwork including the piece used for the cover, and Spades24, for inspiring me to write this in the first place. Thank you both from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter 1

Among the stars
There is a place
To where my heart
Always returns
~Home by Unsun

"You're crazy."

"Nah, not crazy - quirky. And brilliant. It's genetic."

"You definitely inherited your dad's modesty."

"Brilliant, dashing, charming...and did I mention a babe-magnet?"

Huffing in irritation, Saber tossed down the comic book he'd been trying to read and sat up to glare at his best friend, who was currently lounging on his unmade bed with a bag of chips in his hand. "You're beyond crazy," Saber told him bluntly. "You're completely out of your mind if you think we can get away with stealing my dad's bike. If you got any nuttier, we could slice you into slivers and spread you on a cracker."

Vector merely cackled around a mouthful of chips before rolling onto his side, upsetting a pile of magazines with his bare foot as he propped his head on his palm and grinned meaningfully at him. "Not me," he corrected, "you. You get to steal the bike, and I get to do the rest."

"And the rest is...?"

"A birthday surprise, of course. Come on, bud, you're turning eighteen tomorrow. Are you going to celebrate like a badass or a wuss?"

"I'd rather celebrate in one piece. If the bike doesn't kill us, the owner will when he finds out."

But once Vector had hatched one of his schemes, there was never any stopping him. He'd been getting the two of them into trouble for as long as Saber could remember - because even though Vector was three years older than him, they had been a team since Saber was in diapers. And even though Vector got him into trouble all the time, he helped get him out of trouble almost as often, so it balanced out. Sort of.

Swiping his dad's monster of a bike was just another insane plot in a long line of insane plots, and even if he'd wanted to, Saber doubted he could pull it off. But he knew if he didn't cave - like he always did - Vector would badger him until he was ready to strangle himself with his own tail, so he fell back against the mound of beanbags on the floor with a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, I'll try. But no promises."

"Good. When you've got it, meet me out by the dunes west of the ravine across from the north entrance."

"Whoa - you almost sounded like you knew what you were talking about for a second. Only there isn't any north entrance."

Grunting in annoyance, the white half-mouse sat up, noisily crushed his empty chip bag into a ball and pitched it into a corner. "Fine - from whatever direction the entrance you use when you show up from the north is. Like I'm supposed to know for sure."

The thought made Saber grin. A rodent that nutty finding out where any of the portals that led into his home city lie? Not in this lifetime.

With a lazy yawn, Saber stretched for a moment, reaching his arms back behind his head - and recoiled with a grimace as his fingers bumped a mound of dirty clothes, disturbing what smelled like ancient sweat and grime and a happily growing farm of bacteria. "Ugh, when was the last time you cleaned in here?"

"Since I moved in? Never. Being an independent adult rules."

Vector paused, his expression lighting up. He quickly crawled forward and flopped onto his belly, making his scruffy white forelock bounce as he peered over the edge of the bed at him. "You're an adult now - you could move in," he said excitedly.

Actually, Saber was starting to question his choice to sit on the floor, and he brushed off the seat of his pants as he stood, his eyes drifting over the discarded food containers and mud-caked boots. At least, he sure hoped that was mud.

"I think I'll wait until this place has been tested for hepatitis. Or trichinosis."

Vector snickered at him. "Trichinosis comes from pigs, bud."

Saber's gaze drifted back to the pile of fragrant laundry. "I'm sure there's one in here somewhere."

His best friend rolled his eyes dramatically. "Stop, you're starting to sound like my mom."

"Hey, your mom is an angel for putting up with what a slob you've become. My mom's been giving my room military-grade inspections since I was five."

"All the more reason to make your escape," Vector noted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and hopping to his feet in one fluid motion.

Saber had to admit, the thought of leaving home and rooming with his life-long buddy was appealing, but moving into an environment that was probably better handled with antiseptic gloves wouldn't be the only thing he'd have to adjust to.

He was still thinking it over when the front door suddenly buzzed, followed by a muffled pair of swishes as the door opened and closed, signaling that someone had let themselves in without bothering to wait for permission first. Saber could easily guess who had just showed up, and he grabbed his boots from where he'd kicked them off earlier and started tugging them on. "I better go."

For a brief second Vector looked disappointed, but he was grinning again a moment later. "You need to rest up for tomorrow - and especially for tomorrow night," he said slyly.

"Do I get a hint what this is about?"

"Nope."

Saber had figured as much. He gave his head a shake as he left the messy bedroom - and almost walked nose-first into Joy out in the hall. She stepped back out of the way so he could get by - stepped back normally. No hops of pretend surprise, no wide-eyed giggles and exclamations of things like 'fancy bumping into you here!'

As she moved to the side, folding her slender hands behind her back as she leaned against the wall, all she said was, "I didn't realize you were here until I saw your bike outside."

Once upon a time, this kind of remark would have had him rolling his eyes and saying 'suuuure you didn't,' but he was pretty sure she was telling the truth. These days, she didn't behave the way she used to, years ago. When they were kids, she had trailed after him like there was some kind of magic invisible thread tying them together; no matter where he went, she was almost always at his heels. When they got older she grew a little more subtle about following him around, but it still felt like every time he turned around she was hovering somewhere close by, like a second shadow.

That had changed once they both hit their teen years. Her interest in him suddenly seemed to wane and her focus shifted to other things, like hanging out with her friends and finishing her studies. Now, it appeared that the days of spunky little Joy chasing after him with daily threats that she was going to drag him to the altar were just a memory.

At nineteen, Joy was just as spunky as ever, but she wasn't so little anymore. With her bright green eyes, coppery hair, and slender yet toned figure, she had grown into a veritable mouse version of her mother. She worked as a full-time assistant at her parents' garage now, so nowadays she had put aside her childhood staple of lacy dresses and strappy sandals. Her favorite colors to wear were still pink and white, though; today she had on a short pink tank dress over a pair of snug white leggings. On her feet were a sensible pair of tan canvas slip-ons.

Her long, straight hair was loose - cut in a style almost identical to her mother's - and she absently coiled a red-brown lock around her finger. She smiled softly. "In case I don't see you tomorrow, happy birthday in advance."

Saber smiled in return. "Thanks."

As he turned and headed out, he thought to himself that since her brother had come up with another one of his crazy stunts, there was a good chance he and Joy wouldn't see each other on his birthday. And if things went badly, he might not see her - or anyone else - for a few days after. Unless his parents decided eighteen was the cutoff age for grounding him and just plain kicked him out of the house.

Out front, he found Joy's bike parked next to his own, a combination that was kind of funny to look at. Ever since she was fifteen, Joy had been riding around on a small custom dual-sport model she'd built with her mother. It was exactly the kind of bike you'd expect a girl like Joy to ride; pink with white streaks and glistening chrome, and naturally it was adorned with the Martian mouse insignia. Joy had lovingly named her Pink Zephyr.

All but exclusively riding on mouse-like motorcycles didn't used to be something rats typically did, but after underdwellers first went underground, they had adopted those types of vehicles in order to swiftly and discreetly move around the surface when necessity sent them topside. Back then, they were all alike; streamlined racer-like designs colored a rusty brown that blended in with the terrain. The only real difference those bikes had come in was size, since larger riders - like his dad, for example - needed a bigger ride.

Things had changed since then. Now that the rest of Mars knew about them and they came to the surface whenever they pleased, the styles, colors, and designs of underdweller bikes were now as varied as the mice's. They'd even developed their own underdweller rat insignia, which Saber's bike was adorned with beneath the handlebars. His black-and-silver ride was a modified racer model, designed with the same speed and maneuverability that underdweller rat vehicles were known for. It also came equipped with weapons in case of emergency - but there was one thing no rat bike possessed. And that was an AI.

Pink Zephyr had one - a nice polite one - and she rolled back a pace as Saber neared to give him room to turn around. Such behavior from what was ordinarily an inanimate object weirded out some of the older rats Saber knew, but since he had grown up around it, he barely noticed. He flicked a wave in the flashy pink bike's direction before he fired his own vehicle to life, turned away from his best friend's door and started for home.

There were several benefits to having a pair of artificial eyes, and one of them was that they didn't age along with the rest of you. Which meant that when Throttle peered at himself in the bedroom mirror, his vision was as crystal-clear as ever. More than clear enough to see that the lines around his eyes were starting to grow so deep they were visible through his fur, and his jawline and muzzle didn't look as chiseled as they used to. With a long sigh, he reached up to run his fingers through his once thick, medium tan forelock.

Not that his hair wasn't as thick as ever (thank goodness) but the color was another story.

Grimacing, he separated out a section in either hand and stretched them away from his head, releasing another sigh as he studied each lock's distinctly steel gray color. "Okay," he said, "be brutally honest with me."

With a quiet chuckle, his mate came over and rested her head on his shoulder, her abalone blue eyes bright as she studied his reflection with him. Thanks to those eternally rejuvenating cells of hers, she looked every bit as fresh-faced and youthful as she did the day they met. She literally looked like she hadn't aged a minute in all these years, because she literally hadn't. "I told you already," she said, smirking as she ran her long fingers up the back of his head and combed them into his hair, "I think it makes you look distinguished. And I still say it's more silver than gray."

Throttle wasn't sure if he'd call that an improvement, but his mate continued to smile as she ran her fingers through the hair in front. "It kind of glitters in the light, too," she noted, grinning. "Almost like a comet flew by and left stardust in your hair."

"Now you're just being a cheeseball," Throttle said wryly as he turned away from the mirror and put his hands on her waist. "And there's a rule about being a cheeseball around a mouse."

"Oh?" Tamerin said lightly, as he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her. "Am I about to be punished?"

Her mate merely grinned before cupping the back of her head and kissing her firmly. For the last decade or so they had been able to enjoy complete freedom with each other, and that meant they could go with any whim that took them, be it riding off someplace and not coming back again until days later, or chasing each other naked around the kitchen, or ripping each other's clothes off and making love on the living room rug any time they wanted to.

There was no one around to interrupt them, because there was no one else home...or at least there wasn't supposed to be. Just as Throttle was about to casually pick his love up and dump her on the bed, his keen ears picked up the sound of footsteps out in the hall.

He broke away from Tamerin's warm lips with an unhappy groan. "He didn't even knock."

Through their bond, his mate didn't feel all that annoyed. "He used to live here," she noted mildly.

"Key words being 'used to.'"

Tamerin chuckled as she moved away from his arms. "I'll let you two work this out," she said, her amusement plain. "I need to use the facilities."

She playfully pecked his nose and scurried out of the bedroom. With a grumbling sigh, Throttle tracked the wandering footsteps out to the living room, where he found a tall, wiry figure with coarse off-white fur casually nosing through the books and other items kept on a shelf by the stereo. "Mom sure keeps this place clean," Michio noted, his tone as casual as his presence. "But then, she's always been super tidy."

Throttle chose to ignore the obvious dig that he had nothing to do with keeping their home clean and instead gave his son an irritated look. "Ever hear of a doorbell?"

"Once or twice."

He faced his father with a grin loaded with mischief, which was one of the only things about the twenty-nine-year-old that hadn't changed over the years. He was so small when Throttle first adopted him he never expected the goat-like being to blossom until he nearly matched him in height - or exceeded it, if you counted the long, curved horns that grew from the top of his head. He'd developed strong hands and nimble fingers, the kind of hands that could manipulate virtually any kind of tool with ease.

Another thing that hadn't changed about him was his big black eyes, and right now they twinkled in a way that said he wasn't in the mood to be mature today. "But maybe next time I should announce myself first, in case I walk in on you two in the middle of being weird instead of just getting ready to be."

Throttle narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Were you spying on us?" he asked...because he was sure that there weren't any signs of their interrupted amorous activity either on or around him.

Michio snickered in response and slid his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Don't underestimate me, Pops, I'm a scientist."

"Uh-huh," Throttle said dryly, eyeing his son's long white coat. "When you were growing up, I never thought you'd end up wearing one of those someday."

But in hindsight, he probably should have. When his little boy didn't have his nose stuck in a book, he had forever been asking questions - endlessly wondering how things worked, why something was the way it was. Now, he was happily devoting his life to studying all the changes Mars had undergone over the last two decades or so, brought on by the increase of moisture all across the planet's surface, which had triggered changes in everything from the soil and foliage to insects and small animals - many of which had been categorized in recent years as having spawned new species. And Michio was one of the ones who collected samples from it all, which were then put through extensive testing in a giant government-funded lab.

Tamerin had approved from the start because it reminded her of the work her father used to do.

"Hey, don't knock the brainiac look," Michio told him with a crooked grin. "The guys and I down in Research think it makes us look sorta boss."

As he spoke, he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slid them on. Throttle looked at the familiar frames with a pert frown. "I've been wondering where those disappeared to."

Snickering again, Michio turned and headed for the front door. "I have to get to work. Tell Mom I said hi."

Throttle made sure to lock the door behind him - not that it would do much good if his son decided to come back, since one of his defining 'brainiac' skills was being able to hack into anything. Still, Throttle punched the code into the electronic keypad (just in case someone else stopped by unannounced) and then pondered whether he should go back to the bedroom and wait or pounce on Tam as she came out of the bathroom.

He never got to decide, because he was suddenly hit with a sensation like his stomach was dropping out. It was a sensation paired with a chilly kind of feeling that swept over him from head to toe, and when it passed he was left with a sense of stunned shock. He didn't have a clue where the feeling had come from - but he knew who it had come from, and he bolted down the hall to the bathroom. His mate didn't rattle easily, let alone in the bathroom; something must have happened. Something that had taken her completely by surprise - and even scared her a little.

Strange images started jumping into his head - a sinkhole opening up in the floor, a small but vicious animal somehow sneaking in, building a nest under the sink and then popping out at her when she opened the cabinet - but when he burst through the unlocked door, all he found was his mate parked on the toilet. She was undressed from the waist down and had her elbows resting on her knees, and there was a folded square of toilet paper in her hands...and she was staring at it, expression deadpan.

Throttle did a quick scan of the room, but there wasn't a molecule out of place. Underneath her blank look, Tamerin was rattled to the core, and she continued to stare at what she was holding like she hadn't noticed him rush in. Nose wrinkled in puzzlement, Throttle folded his arms and cocked his head at her. "Do we need to switch to 3-ply?" he joked.

A second or two of awkward silence ticked by before his mate finally lifted her eyes and looked at him. She didn't say anything; just tilted her hands forward, displaying what she still had clutched in her fingers so he could see it better. The white paper was stained with splotches of red.

It was a sight that made him feel funny inside - like he was intruding on one of those private, strictly female moments - and he probably would have left the bathroom in a hurry...if it wasn't for one simple fact. "You don't do that," he said, his puzzlement growing by the minute.

Tamerin shook her head, eyes distant. Her expression was dazed now, matching the way she felt inside, and her movements were almost mechanical as she stood up, discarded the stained paper and flushed the toilet. She started to reach past him to wash up at the sink; Throttle put his hands on her arms, stilling her. "Hey," he said softly, lifting her face until she met his eyes, "is everything okay here?"

He couldn't imagine what could be wrong, or why she would suddenly start bleeding like this, so all he could do was wait while she took a slow, deep breath and pushed down the nervous tension that was rapidly building inside her. She still felt as dazed as ever, and her eyes darted away from his as she answered him in a small, quiet voice. A voice that didn't sound at all like the confident being he knew her to be. "There's only one reason why an Imeeran female suddenly bleeds between her legs."

Throttle lifted his eyebrows questioningly. "Which reason is that?"

Tamerin worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she answered. She only said one word...but sometimes, a single word was all it took to change your whole life completely.

"Conception."

Throttle experienced that feeling like his stomach was dropping out again, only this time the feeling was all his own. "But - that's impossible," he faltered. "I mean, I'm - for lack of a better term - fixed. And we haven't been together since last week."

His words seem to bring his mate back to herself, and she pulled away from his grasp and faced the sink with a scoff. "I think we both know just how little that matters," she muttered as she switched the faucet on. "And I talked to Dee about your operation right after you got it so she could clarify a few things for me. According to her, even though she tweaked the procedure a bit, no method short of neutering you completely is one-hundred-percent effective."

Little Doctor Deichan had told him the same thing, back when he first went in for his vasectomy. She'd warned him that even though the procedure would prevent any sperm from leaving his body, it wouldn't stop his body from producing it. And she'd also warned him that, as slim as the chance was, it was possible for viable sperm to slip through once in a while, for various reasons.

Despite these warnings, Throttle had never worried, because she had also mentioned that the probability of that happening was some zero-zero-point-zero-zero-zero-something-percent chance...or something like that. Whatever the exact number was, it was so low the tiny doctor had all but dismissed it as being possible. Throttle had dismissed it completely and let himself enjoy his mate freely for all these years.

But it was true what they said. When something happened to you, the numbers became meaningless. At least one viable sperm had sneaked into his semen. And one was all it took.

Still, his reeling mind tried to come up with an alternative reason for what he had just seen. "You know, things got pretty rough between us last time..."

Tamerin scoffed again and blotted her hands dry with a towel. "Not that rough. You've never been rough enough to make me bleed, let alone at random almost a week later."

She briskly folded the towel and set it down, then turned to face him again. Her mood was more under control now: centered, calm. Accepting - or at least trying to be. "You can think up other possible reasons, or I can go to the hospital and get a blood test if you really want me to, but nothing is going to change what I already know for a fact. I'm pregnant."

Hearing that word spoken out loud made his stomach turn over - hers, too.

That was the last thing he felt before his mate's emotions suddenly pulled away from him. Like they were being sucked up by a vacuum, they drew from him and tucked away someplace, secure and tight. Someplace where he couldn't feel them anymore.

Over the years their bond had deepened to a point where they didn't really need to talk to each other, if they didn't want to. It was possible for them to convey what was inside so clearly, words weren't necessary most of the time. Except, of course, when his mate hid what was inside her where he couldn't find it. It had taken him years of practice, but he had figured out how to blunt how much she felt from him - a lot like how you bottled up your feelings when you didn't want to let them out - but it was still a far cry from being able to cut off his emotions from her completely.

Not that either of them had much reason to hide what they were feeling from each other. They usually didn't bother unless they were trying to keep something a surprise...or if they were worried that what they were feeling would upset the other.

Throttle had learned during all the years he had spent mated to one that the dynamics of Imeeran relationships worked a little differently than most. Arguments almost never escalated to angry words or shouting. Dark or negative feelings were never left alone or allowed to grow. When something happening between a couple threatened to break out in a fight, one or both would step back and not speak until they felt calm enough to approach the situation again.

Being able to feel everything you caused someone else to feel whether it was good or bad completely changed the way you handled being in a relationship. Hurting the one you loved was the same as hurting yourself. It had taken him a while to get used to it all, but now, knowing when to push and when it was time to pull back was second nature. And right now, he knew that walking away after his mate had cut herself off from him wasn't the thing to do.

Tamerin fixed her clothes and left the bathroom; Throttle followed at her heels as she breezed across their home and into the kitchen. As she started on lunch, her mental barriers stayed firmly in place and her focus firmly on what she was going, even as Throttle continued to hover behind her. Finally, he put his hands on her shoulders, bringing her darting movements to a halt.

"Come on," he said quietly, his voice gentle and coaxing, "don't go shutting me out. No matter what happens, we're in this together."

Breathing a quiet sigh, Tamerin started chopping hunks of fruit on the counter. "I'm fine," she said, her tone calm. "You're the one who's getting scared."

Surprised, Throttle opened his mouth to say that he wasn't scared...and closed it again as he realized, heart sinking, that she was right. It was so subtle he hadn't noticed until now, but a tiny knot of apprehension, unease, and worry was forming in the pit of his stomach. As soon as he became aware of it, it seemed to grow, to pull tighter.

It was only to be expected. However this played out, their lives had changed forever this afternoon. With a slow release of breath, he closed his eyes and let his head sink forward, until his forehead was resting against the back of her snowy head. "We're going to be parents," he mumbled.

"We're already parents," Tamerin responded, her tone dry. "We have been for twenty years. That's not what's bothering you."

No. That wasn't the issue at all. And like only she could, she had seen right through him and recognized what was going on in his mind even before he did.

It wasn't what was supposed to be going on in his mind at a time like this. Someone who had just found out he was going to be a father usually started wondering what their child was going to look like. Or if it would be a boy or a girl. Or which room they were going to convert into a nursery. Or what name they were going to pick out. All those normal, excited, happy questions.

Instead, all he was wondering was how much pain his mate was going to have to deal with before this was over. If she was going to have as rough of a time as her mother once did or if it would be even worse. And with the knot in his stomach tightening a little more, he couldn't help but wonder if his stubborn Martian body had just put his beloved Tam's life at risk.

Sensing his mounting distress, she quickly set down her chopping knife and turned around. Standing on tiptoe, she put her arms around his neck and held him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'll be fine," she murmured. "Even if the journey is rough, I'll make it through. And like you said; whatever happens, we're in this together. Okay?"

With a smile, Tamerin kissed his cheek, held him a moment longer, then went back to making lunch. As she did, she let her barriers slowly slip away, until his heart was filled with what was in hers. She was still getting over her shock, and trying to accept the inevitability of the situation. Finding out that something neither of them ever thought would happen had happened left her understandably floored. But she wasn't afraid.

Memories of when her mother was carrying Astrid were playing through both their minds, but even knowing that it could be just as bad for her, Tamerin wasn't afraid. She had gone through and seen too much during her long life, including a war that had lasted for thirty years. Even though she had once shuddered at the thought of risking the uncertainty of parenthood when mated with a non-Imeeran, now that she was faced with that very thing, she had already set those thoughts aside and was preparing herself for whatever lay ahead. She had lived through too much to get scared over a mere baby, and there was no sign of a knot of apprehension forming in her stomach.

Throttle tried to undo his, but with his head full of memories of Bevra's unpleasant pregnancy and the ongoing difficulties of little Astrid's life, paired with the possibility that their situation just might end up worse - far worse...he couldn't quite manage it.