Chapter I: The Calm before the Storm

The silence of the cargo hold in the Normandy was broken by a rhythmic thumping of a heavy bag as a man threw everything he had into its rough leather skin. Shepard had lost track of time–he couldn't sleep, as usual. People who saw what he did in their lifetimes never did.

Working out caused a blood rush that made sleep impossible for several hours after, and training had a mental stimulus for Shepard that meant he wouldn't be sleeping for some time after that. Didn't matter, he might not even be alive tomorrow. Who opted to spend part of their last few hours sleeping? This took his mind off things…

His calloused knuckles had been raw not long after the workout began and were now leaving red stains on the bag's hide with every punch. The hits echoing around the empty cargo hold were beginning to sound sloppy, like someone beating a wet sponge. Shepard didn't notice.

He stopped, panting and drawing a wrapped hand across his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow. In the momentary pause his mind began wandering back to the mission at hand. The collectors.

Did they have a chance? His team was ready, he had no doubt in his mind about that. He knew they'd all joined for different reasons, but their resolve for the mission was unquestionable. As long as one member still drew breath, the collectors would die tonight.

He had no idea what time it was but decided he should spend the rest of the journey reflecting on his life. He doubted Cerberus would spend the money to rebuild him again.

Shepard unwrapped his hands as he made his way over to his bag. He examined them, stoically peeling off strips of skin that hung in bloody tatters and tossing them aside. On his way to the elevator he applied dabs of medigel from his bag to the damaged knuckles. He grimaced as a low hissing was heard, the open areas of red flesh instantly healing with a numbing sensation.

He clenched a fist before him. One way or another, this ended tonight.


A desk flew against the wall with a loud bang. Jack was bored and hated waiting…

Hated waiting.

She just wished this would get started already. Not over with, because then all the fun would be gone, but started. Joker was taking forever to take them in and she was beginning to think it was all bullshit.

"What's the big deal, you fly in, we get there, and we blow shit up!" She raged to no one in her empty deck.

No one answering made her angrier and she lifted the desk again with biotics, sending half one direction and half in another.

The final battle didn't scare her. She lived through Cerberus testing, Purgatory, and half a dozen certain-death situations with Shepard. This mission wouldn't kill her and she wondered why it bothered with the waiting. The waiting!

Everyone else was all mopey about possibly dying, the crew being taken, all that bullshit. Way she figured: the strong enough would make it through, the others wouldn't–and she was strong enough. She put her money on Zaeed, Grunt, Garrus, and maybe that one assassin who stayed above deck. She hoped the Cerberus bitch would too but she wouldn't hold her breath. As long as Cheerleader was dead Jack wasn't picky.

And of course Shepard. As much as she'd been through, he'd doubled. But he was too idealistic. Not enough self preservation. If it came down to it, she knew he'd sacrifice himself to complete the mission.

'Idiot.'

But whatever. It brought her chances of surviving up if the collectors were distracted with him, and he would be a big distraction. Yeah, she'd gotten to know him. He seemed to be the one guy she'd met who didn't have any ideas of using her, and she couldn't decide if that made her feel special or angry. She settled for the latter, as usual.

She'd asked him multiple times if he just wanted to fuck. But every time he just refused, saying that's not at all what he wanted. Something about "Friends," "blah blah blah," "crap crap crap."

Whatever. If he was too stupid to know what he wanted it wasn't her problem. Sure, she'd be his friend. But after this was over and done with she would take what she could and disappear. Maybe take the ship too, she hadn't decided yet. But right now all she could do was… Wait.

"Fuck!"


Heavy footfalls were heard as a heavy krogan paced around his storage room. Grunt hadn't killed anything in a while, he was beginning to itch. He couldn't wait for this battle, it promised to yield their toughest enemies yet, fighting on their own turf, giving everything they had to stop Shepard and his team.

It meant that much more when they would be crushed beneath his boot. He couldn't wait to see what would happen. One way or another, this would be the fight of his few weeks-long life. He felt blessed, other races–even other krogan–had to wait entire lifetimes before they saw action like he had. He wasn't even one year old and was already being pitted against the galaxy's most deadly.

But all he could do now was wait around. It wasn't his favorite pastime, but one he accepted as being part of a long-lived warrior race. He would wait as long as he needed to, he knew Shepard always delivered strong enemies.

A thought occurred to him then. Once the collectors were destroyed, didn't that make Shepard the strongest thing in the galaxy?

"The honor… Having the strongest warrior as my battlemaster." Grunt muttered. Truly, he was blessed.

"Think being the strongest warrior would have more honor to it."

Grunt looked up from the ground to see Zaeed standing against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Just my opinion." The mercenary added in a hoarse grunt.

"What do you want?" Grunt asked bluntly. Shepard was the only human he came into regular contact with and he was a little rough when it came to other people.

"Did you know we have a bar up-deck?" Zaeed asked, thumb pointing at the ceiling. Grunt shrugged blankly, wondering what the point of this visit was. Zaeed continued, returning the arm under his elbow, "Was headed up there myself, didn't know if you wanted to join."

Grunt wasn't used to socializing outside mess but made a shrugging motion and walked towards the door. "Sure, got nothing better to do. You ever hear of rynchol?"

Zaeed sounded incredulous. "That pisswater? Jeezus, I'll show you what real men drink…"

Grunt was now very interested and followed the man towards the elevator.


The soft patter of careful footfalls timed in flurries of steps around the floor in the life support room. A half-step forward, ending in a solar plexus uppercut using the forward hand's second knuckles as a weapon. The back foot sweeps behind the front, back arm parrying the flail of the invisible target's right arm around their head, bending them double. The weight drops, giving the fore-most elbow power as it descends into the kidney, disabling all motion for a half second.

A half second is all an assassin needs as he steps away, while doing so mimicking a swift twist of the neck.

Thane Krios dropped his weight behind him, sitting himself in the chair from where his motions began. He turned back towards the window where he spent much of his time observing the flowing energies of the mass effect core. It looked like visions of the afterlife, and he occasionally saw shapes in the wisps that floated around the spherical room. His mind wandered back to what it always did since his diagnosis.

He sat in silence for several minutes. He contemplated many things, but there really was never anything that prepared one for death. So many beliefs… Some say his soul would be judged. Others that it would pass to the spirit realm and rejoin with all those he'd lost in this life.

But what if… None of that happened? What if it really was all just a cycle of nature? An organic being is born, lives its life according to the principles that govern all living things: consume and reproduce–and then die. There is no spirit, no afterlife. After this body failed there would be nothing. Forever.

That was what scared him. Forever was… Eternal. There was nothingness, forever. He ceased to exist, and all that he was became history to others. When that came to mind an image of a skull surfaced, bare and forgotten, lying in the sands of some nameless desert. Whatever the creature had been in life, this was all that remained now. That's all it would ever be, on any spiritual plane. Forever.

Thane realized his body was frozen with fear and he calmed himself, breathing deeply. He bowed his head, bringing his hands to his eyes to wipe away moisture. It wasn't Death who haunted him. It was Time.

He was scared, he wouldn't lie... In his distracted state he didn't notice himself slipping into a memory.

"Thane, no one knows what comes after this." She whispers, gesturing to the room around them. "All we can do is enjoy the time we do have, that we are certain exists… Now." She pulls him towards her, sunset-colored eyes inviting a kiss…

Thane cleared the memory with a shake of his head. He stood, making a decision. He'd spent too much of his life alone already. It was never too late to make friends.

If Shepard had taught him one thing during their time together it was that huge things could change in a short instant. Assuming he survived the mission, he had almost a year to change things.


Images from a dozen video feeds located around the ship cycled over the screen: various subjects spending what was likely to be their last hours in this universe, unknowing of the azure eyes watching them through a dozen hidden lenses.

A drell danced around a room alone, evading an opponent's attack while delivering killing blows within a second of one another. He sat down, resumed the position she always saw him in, and slipped into thought once more.

The guilty feeling of privacy invasion never stuck long with Miranda, but she was more interested in what people were doing with their time. Frankly she thought time would be better spent preparing for a mission rather than contemplating the results of its failure.

An asari sat in mediation, ball of pure biotic energy flickering between her hands. Fascinating though asari were, watching this one grew old quickly.

She admired the Justicar's patience, then realized she'd had countless lifetimes to master it. The amount of wisdom hidden away in that one mind was incredible. She almost felt it was selfish of Samara to keep it all to herself. If this was to be someone's last hour alive, wouldn't they want to at least impart something to show the universe that they had at least existed?

But the calm on her ageless face was as serene as ever. She was at peace. However turbulent the galaxy around her would become, she would live, fight, and die at peace.

Miranda exhaled, envious of Samara's ability to have no regrets. 'Or at least having come to terms with them…' she thought to herself, next feed displaying the cargo hold of the Normandy where an exceptionally muscled man was waiting by the elevator door. He'd taken a seat on a crate beside the lift, clearly having been there for some time.

But it appeared he was in no hurry. The light signified the elevator was in fact coming, eventually, and that seemed to be enough for Shepard. He sat in thought, thoughtful eyes concentrated on something only he could see.

Miranda shook her head slowly. She wasn't perfect, she was human. But she was smarter, stronger, faster, more attractive, better trained, confident… She sighed, stopping herself. Lists of logical reasoning were void when Shepard was concerned. He really was a person built around the impossible, the unfeasible. He wanted something else, something she didn't have. And in addition to those other qualities, he had to be moral to top everything off.

"Impossible…" she muttered in exasperation, leaning back and switching off the monitors. She was done watching others. She began wondering why this mission was causing her to over-think everything, be frustrated over everything. She realized that it was because she had never before been faced with her own death.

It'd never occurred to her that she would die on a mission. All her life she was exceptional at everything, the rules of life never applied to her. But after seeing Shepard's own reservations about the mission, Shepard with his iron resolve and steadfast determination, she began having doubts. Not that the mission would fail–she would give everything she could to make it succeed–but that all of them would make it. She'd accepted not everyone would, but she never thought she wouldn't…

Did she have regrets?

Would she be remembered at all in history? She'd done great things, but nothing that would ever be attributed to her memory. Even within Cerberus her loss would mean nothing more than an operative vacancy. She'd put her life into humanity, but this one mission surpassed anything she'd ever done. On a whole her time almost felt meaningless…

A low knock was heard, interrupting her thoughts.

Miranda looked up from her desk, making sure her face was its usual stern-passive expression. Who knocked nowadays?

After a moment the doors slid open, revealing that Jacob Taylor knocked nowadays. "Hey." He said simply.

He had his arms crossed and was half leaning against the doorframe, keeping his cool, but Miranda knew him better than that. Under the calm façade his heart was beating a mile a minute. "Can I help you with something, Jacob?" she asked, pretending to pull her hands from her hands away from work and gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. She really hoped this wouldn't be as awkward as what his appearance was suggesting.

"You don't have to fake working, Miranda." Jacob said, allowing a small smile. He could tell when she was actually working because she didn't stop when he entered the room. "Did you know we have a bar in the lounge?" he asked, gesturing over his shoulder with an incredulous look on his face. "We've been on this ship for weeks and I've never been through that one door."

Miranda stared at him. Truthfully she couldn't remember it being in the initial ship design.

"Anyway I didn't know if you wanted to have a drink before we hit the collectors. We've got some time, and your weapons aren't getting any cleaner than that…" Jacob said, noting her thoroughly polished pistol lying in one of the extra chairs by the window.

She watched him in silence. Sighing, she stood and made her way around the computer separating them. If it was to be her last few hours she wasn't going to spend it alone behind a desk filing some report.


Vials clinked and bottles were knocked dangerously close to the edges of counters as a salarian scurried around his lab, slapping labels and instructions on everything.

There was so much to do–too much to do!

Mordin regretted leaving so much unfinished with his life. It wasn't his memory that concerned him, after the special tasks group he'd come to terms with never being recognized for his actions. It was the waste! So much wasted if all the projects he was currently multitasking were stopped.

He'd almost finished this test here, but the specimen needed time to grow. Time! Too little of it, Mordin didn't have time. He never had time, naturally, but now moreso!

A thousand thoughts ran through his brain as he pulled labels from a drawer to stick on a rack of Petri dishes. Specific instructions on how to complete this experiment here and what to do with the data. How to properly dispose of that research there if results A, B and F were reached, or how to move onto the next tests, including what the next tests were and how to perform them if results C or K somehow came to fruition, and all the possibilities in between. The most he could hope for was that whoever took over his lab wasn't a simpleton and could pass on his work to someone who could complete it.

The sound of breaking glass was heard and he glanced down to see one bottle had shattered, corrosive contents eating away at the flooring. He resumed his frantic efforts around the lab–had to cut losses, no time for cleanup.

He paused at the end of walking to the end of his lab table, realizing how many individual experiments revolved around the results of that one shattered trial. Making a mental list he walked backwards from the end of the desk, stripping labels from the equipment and bottles affected. He reached the other end, then realized all they needed was that one trial again–he could leave instructions on how to do that. He worked in reverse, moving forward and putting the labels back in their respective locations.

"No, wait... Timed results vary." he thought aloud to himself, beginning to walk backwards again to recover the labels once more.

The door to the lab slid open and a Geth walked in.

"Synthetic, do you need something?" Mordin asked out of politeness, not spending more than a glance to confirm it was Legion so to continue working.

Legion's optic lens focused in and out on several points of interest. Mordin's lab looked like it'd just hosted krogan gladiator competitions. Finally it focused on Mordin, still darting here and there, sidestepping a growing hole in the floor. "EDI asked for my assistance in the laboratory."

"Assistance?" Mordin repeated, rifling through a drawer, slamming it closed and opening a new one. "No, no assistance necessary. Just compiling life's work in few hours. Short time frame–no time to explain what needs to be done, faster to do myself."

"Ship-AI EDI has downloaded all experiment data to this platform's memory banks. It is ready to assist in whatever way it can." Legion said, walking to the table and starting to move vials.

Mordin was about to protest when he realized that they had been completely prioritized based on time-sensitivity. Legion moved with machine efficiency, in a few seconds organizing into precise rows what would have taken an organic several minutes to do. "Permission to share observation, Mordin-scientist?" Without waiting for a response it continued, "It is unknown what we will encounter after passing through the Omega 4 relay. Given previous attempts made by Geth and organics, statistical-probability of Normandy returning intact is zero-percent. It is uncertain if Reaper IFF will alter chance of success."

Mordin stopped working, never having made that very simple realization.

"Additionally, given the location of the laboratory if the ship were to sustain damage there would be a twenty-three percent chance it would be affected." Legion finished, gesturing to the window.

Mordin looked around the laboratory, weighing odds of his research surviving versus its value in time. He looked back to Legion, "What should we do then?"

Legion stood in silence, ocular lens adjusting.

Mordin cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with the remainder of his time. Legion's lens focused back on the mess.

"You sort, I'll finish the labels." Mordin said, stepping back into motion as though he hadn't stopped, Legion following suit.

Mordin's life was defined by his work. It was what he loved. It was how he lived, and it was how he would die.


"You can't keep living in the past... Once you've learned from a mistake you take the knowledge and leave the memory behind you. Travel light, even in the mind! It lets you focus better."

A small smile broke out under the shadow of a hood, its owner watching one of her first memories with Kenji. That was the first things he taught her, and was far from the last. She backed out of her current memory and moved to another snapshot, wondering which one she should relive next.

But before she could choose she heard noise from the real world, a door sliding open and two sets of heavy footsteps coming through.

"Hey, what–?" she asked in her loud whisper, sitting up from the couch and looking around with her mind still in the graybox. She kept trying to see who had entered but the memories floating around her blocked her vision. She let out a frustrated grunt and tore the graybox off her head. Nobody visited her but Shepard, and unless he'd gained seven-hundred pounds and an extra pair of feet this wasn't him.

"Don't get up princess we're just here for the bar." Zaeed's hoarse sneer came as the man entered into focus. "We'll try to keep it down for you, just go back to your memory-box."

Kasumi was about to do just that, lying back and flipping the graybox back on when the second voice interrupted her thoughts. "So you're a mercenary, tell me a story of the best fight you've ever had." Grunt's deep baritone demanded.

"Ha!" Zaeed chuckled, clinking glasses together loudly. "Interested in mercenary work, are you?"

Kasumi rolled her eyes, not able to concentrate on the memories with all the external noise. The graybox only took the mind and eyes someplace else, it didn't remove the physical body from its surroundings. She turned away on her side, trying her best to drown out the noise and concentrate on the memories.

Her efforts were interrupted as the door slid open again, letting another two set of footsteps in. This time she didn't need to look to know the voices of the two Cerberus operatives on the team.

"Actually I recall it was you that time Jacob." Miranda said with a hint of sarcasm to her voice. "Anyway, you shouldn't be trying to top that now. We only have a few hours before the mission and you should be somewhat sober."

"Yeah yeah, I know my limits." Jacob responded in a tone of someone answering their nagging mom.

Kasumi had been very happy with her room arrangements until now. She kept to the quiet, it never occurred to her the bar would suddenly become the most popular room in the ship. All she wanted was to remember the time of her life when she truly lived.

The risks of this job didn't scare her. She wasn't suicidal but if the worst outcome of all this would be she could be with Kenji again, there was no downside to this mission.

She rose, picking up the box and silently made her way to the door.

"C'mon, people still believe that? That's a stereotype and it died out years ago." Jacob said exasperatedly, leaning back in his barstool. He turned, "Talk to Kasumi if you want something stol–Oh she's gone…" the door's closing finalizing his words. "See? Didn't even hear her go did you?"

"Imagine you don't make many friends in her line of work." Miranda commented, folding her arms and looking disapprovingly of the drink Zaeed had just placed before her.

"Some people," the mercenary grunted, reaching over and taking the glass from Miranda after seeing she wouldn't touch it, "Will live their entire lives thinking about their past, and never see the present." He downed the drink in one motion. "Think that if they could somehow go back and relive it, they could fix their mistakes. Make it better." He smiled grimly, scarred mouth disfiguring, "The rest of us just know we'd just make different mistakes and make it worse."

"That supposed to be a reason to stop caring about the past?" Jacob asked, staring into his drink. "If we don't know where we came from how do we know where we're going?"

Zaeed chuckled. An unnatural sound, like metal shears scraping against one another. "If you believe that 'everyone has a purpose' and all that crap. If you live in reality you know that not one bloody thing you do with your life will matter in a few short years. The universe doesn't give a rat's ass where you came from, and whatever you plan on your future you can bet your own ass it isn't going to happen the way you want. The present is all you can be sure about." He poured himself another glass of the nearest bottle. "So drink up."

"I'll drink to that." Grunt added, doing so.

"You're on a mission to save humanity, led by the only man capable of doing it." Miranda stated incredulously, staring at the mercenary. "How can you say what he's doing doesn't matter?"

"Shepard isn't special; anyone who can pull a trigger and bat their eyelashes can do what he does." Zaeed scoffed. He raised a hand to quell the immediate response, "The point is that if it wasn't Shepard it would be somebody else. People don't matter, and neither will this when the day is done. I took this job because it pays well–something I can enjoy right now; the only thing we're doing tonight is turning Hell into 'standing-room only'. The proof is in the actions, get me?"

"It's proof you believe what you say." Jacob muttered, finally taking a sip from his drink. "Which is more than most can."

Silence descended on the group, occasionally broken by clinking glass.


Calibrations, calibrations, calibrations… The numbers weren't changing and the Normandy wasn't getting any more accurate. Garrus would finally have to accept that nothing else could be done to prepare for the final battle. The ship was ready, the team was eager. He just had to make sure he wouldn't let anyone down. Not again…

He turned from overseeing the weapon systems and walked towards the door. It slid open and he nearly knocked into the considerably smaller form of Kasumi.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, moving to the side before they collided. "Sorry, just trying to find a quiet spot on the ship…"

"Try this room, no one goes in there. Perfect for thinking." Garrus said, stepping to the side of the walkway to allow her to pass.

"Thanks." She muttered, bowing her head and going inside. Garrus watched the door close behind her and continued past the sleeper pods, wondering where he was going. He had nowhere to be and no one to talk to. All he could do was mentally ready himself to prove he could do this. Ever since his days as Archangel he'd watched Shepard intently, made note of his every action, inflection, anything that set him apart from other leaders.

Something he never understood was how Shepard stayed Shepard–dedicated and unyielding. No matter what depths he had to plunge to expunge corruption, what darkness he had to wander to find answers, he always came back out untarnished. Whatever evil he faced, he did so head-on and walked away as pure as he'd started. He was kind, forgiving, honest and strong, despite the horrors inflicted upon him throughout his life. Death itself hadn't changed him; he remained the stalwart warrior he'd always been. Garrus wished he could be just like him, but knew he couldn't.

It was Shepard who stayed Garrus' hand on more than one occasion, and Garrus thought long after each time if it had truly been the best course of action. He'd stayed awake for hours at night wondering if things should have gone differently.

If things should have gone differently…

Was it possible that he just simply wasn't, and would never be Shepard? As soon as Shepard left his life would he return to his norm of making bad decisions and making others pay the price? Would he always struggle between right and wrong?

He slowly walked around the side of the elevator thinking to himself when another thought hit him.

Was that reason to quit trying?

No he wasn't Shepard, and he may never come close for that matter. But he would always have something to strive for. Shepard had taught him you can't help people by doing things the wrong way–that just makes a whole new batch of people you need to help. Shepard had taught him a lot of things.

"Excuse me…" Garrus looked and saw Thane passing behind him. The assassin was polite, Thane probably could have gone by without Garrus even knowing of his presence. The drell walked to the end of the hall and entered the observation deck.

Garrus went back to his thoughts.

After this mission was over he needed to thank Shepard for everything. He paused by the elevator.

'On the other hand, why wait?' he thought as he punched the button. If not here: where; if not now: when, right? After about a minute the door opened.

Garrus took a step forward and then two steps back with a startled "Ah," hit by the unexpected sight of Shepard and Tali standing very close to one another in a way that suggested a little more than intimacy. It took a moment for both parties to react to the other, then everyone moved at once. Tali stepped away from Shepard and looked away, blush almost visible through her mask; Garrus tried to look like he hadn't seen anything, becoming very interested in the collar of his armor. Shepard cleared his throat smiling and rubbing the back of his neck. "Going up or down?"

"Oh," Garrus said, mouth pulling into a lopsided smile, "I actually just bumped this button on my way to… Do something else." It was his turn to look away awkwardly and hold back a grin. He didn't think now was the appropriate time to thank Shepard for all his worldly teachings and words.

"I see." Shepard remarked, looking away as well. Tali was still apparently fascinated by a spot on the wall.

"I'll just... Ahem, go do that thing." Garrus said, stepping away from the elevator and following Thane's direction. "Have fun." He added, grinning openly now that he wasn't facing them and doing a fairly good job of holding back amusement. 'More than one way to blow off steam…'

To say Garrus was taken by surprise would be an understatement. He thought he was pretty good at picking up on things but this was unexpected. As far as he could tell there hadn't been any signs or hints or anything. Hell, he didn't even know Shepard was into relationships, Garrus figured he just kicked ass all the time.

But good for him. Garrus was pleased Shepard wasn't spending his time before the mission alone, and after it was over he would have something to look forward to.

Garrus hadn't realized he now stood at the entrance to the observation deck until the doors slid open, revealing Samara and Thane sitting side by side facing the window and looking out into the void of space. The room was silent save the light breathing of both individuals sitting in mediation.

He somehow felt he was interrupting something again and was about to take a step back when Samara called out to him. "Join us, turian. There's no time to reflect like the present."

Garrus hesitated, then took a step towards them. "I guess not…"

He took a seat on the other side of the Justicar, adjusting himself on his knees to get comfortable.

"It is a grounding experience. Everyone should devote a part of their day to contemplate the universe around them." Samara spoke calmly, biotic ball of energy pulsating before her. "What is right. What is wrong. What have we done in our lives. What have we yet to do."

"And how much time we have left to do it." Thane finished from her other side.

"Acknowledge that we've all made mistakes in our past, and that we are ever learning." Samara continued, smiling faintly. "Be grateful for the lessons we've learned and the guidance others have given us, and realize it has been the foundation for who we are today."

"Sounds like a good place to start…" Garrus muttered, trying to think of where to begin starting.

"Just clear your mind… And let the thoughts come to you." Samara said, adjusting her posture. Her white eyes closed, the energy ball wisped into nothingness, and silence once again filled the room.


Tali looked up from her monitor with an expression of exasperation after hearing another desk being thrown around the bottom deck, bouncing around with distractingly loud crashes that she assumed was music to Jack's ears. After finally getting used to the silence of the Normandy again excess noise became annoying more than anything else.

She let her hands fall from the holo-keyboard and it disappeared. She was done with work. Picking up the slack the abducted engineers had left she'd finished all the maintenance the Normandy would need to get to the collectors. She figured it wouldn't matter much after that. They'd either survive and have time to make repairs or die and have other things to worry about.

Anyway, there was something else she had planned with her remaining time before the mission. A promise she was looking forward to fulfilling.

She walked out of the engineering deck. She passed the stairs where an audible "Fuck!" could be heard from below and continued into the main hall. She came to the long window overlooking the cargo hold, pacing beside it and wondering how she should best approach Shepard. Just the thought made her nervous and embarrassed. What if he'd changed his mind?

There was a galaxy of women out there, and Shepard was… Shepard! The Commander Shepard. She was just… Tali. Was she being selfish, keeping him from someone else more deserving? There were a lot of things other women could offer him, things she could never do. Was she being selfish in keeping him from being with someone else?

It took her a moment to realize that right out the window she could see Shepard walking towards the elevator below her, doing something with his hands. She took a deep breath, aware of how hard her heart was beating at the prospect of talking to him.

"Don't stare too long, he'll think you have a thing for him."

Tali jumped at the voice and turned to see Zaeed and Grunt standing by the elevator. In her preoccupied state she hadn't noticed them. She wanted to retort with something to wipe the smug look off Zaeed's face but her brain was still buzzing and she couldn't think of anything, so she turned away and faced the windows again.

Zaeed smirked as the elevator opened and he disappeared inside, Grunt following. Tali looked back to see Shepard but he'd moved out of the range of her vision. All she could do now was think about what to say…

About a minute passed and the slowest elevator in the universe could finally be heard moving past her floor to the cargo hold. She waited another few seconds to be sure it'd gone by, then pressed the button.

Almost a full minute later the doors opened, revealing a sweaty and entirely distracting Shepard. He smiled when he saw her, "Tali."

Feeling the heat rise in her face she stammered back "H-Hey Shepard." She stood there for a moment, forgetting everything she'd mentally practiced to say.

"Are you… Going up?" Shepard asked, extending a muscled arm to halt the closing doors.

She nodded wordlessly and stepped in the elevator, trying her hardest not to be caught staring.

The doors closed and they stood in silence. Tali could feel his gaze on her and felt her heart pounding hard again. How were you supposed to just talk about this? She jumped when she heard his voice. "Which floor?"

She glanced over and saw his hand hovering over the floor buttons, looking at her for a response.

"Where are you going?" Tali asked. She only got in the elevator to be wherever he was…

Shepard chuckled and used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Well my quarters, I guess. I need to shower and… Think." His eyes looked distant for a moment before focusing on her again. "But that's at the top. What about you?"

"I…" Tali began, playing with her hands. "I've… taken some things to bolster my immune system." She chanced a glance his way but the intensity of his eyes caused her to look away. "I've minimized the risk of being… Out of the suit. But I'm still nervous about… About…" She trailed off, trying to keep her thoughts on track. Now that she was actually here with him it was a lot harder than she'd expected it to be. "I'm talking too much again. I just… Want this to work. I want to make sure this is what you want, too…"

She let silence fill the air before looking back at him. He still stood by the panel, watching her. Without breaking eye contact he pressed the top floor button.

"I told you, Tali. I don't want anyone else." He moved towards her and dropped his workout bag. He embraced her and held her close. "I want you."

She closed her eyes and tentatively moved her hands up his arms. Her fingers were slightly shaky but feeling him somehow calmed her. They moved over his biceps and onto his hard shoulders. She breathed in his scent, resting her head against his neck.

This was Shepard. If he said he wanted her and only her, he meant it. To think otherwise was to question his character, and she trusted him absolutely.

All reservations had passed now and the only thing she was flustered about was how quickly she could get this suit off.

Her grip on his shoulders tightened and she pressed her head into his. She was pleased to feel his arms around her tightening, fingers pressing into the small of her back. Motions were becoming forceful and instinctive. She wished like hell this mask was off and she could just–

"Ah,"

Tali and Shepard broke for a moment to see Garrus standing in front of the open elevator. It took a second but Tali came to her senses and stepped away from Shepard to look at a spot on the wall, her face burning. It was only after a break in passion was reached that made one stop and realize what they were doing; and given it was Tali's first time acting this way it made for an embarrassing experience.

"Going up or down?" Shepard asked Garrus, smiling. It was clear nothing needed to be said for Garrus to know he'd interrupted something.

"Oh, I actually just bumped this button on my way to…" Garrus struggled with himself for a moment to conjure up an imaginary task that needed doing. "Do something else."

"I see." Shepard acknowledged, not adding to the conversation to ensure its quick conclusion.

"I'll just…" Garrus cleared his throat, "Go do that thing." He stepped away and walked towards the observation deck, calling "Have fun." over his shoulder as he did so and doing a fairly poor job of holding back amusement.

Shepard said nothing as the doors closed again. A low hiss drew his attention back to Tali to see her faced away, slowly removing her mask.

It was his turn to feel his heart thumping hard. "…Tali?"

She started to turn, pausing for a moment, then finished. She was fully facing him now, a look of apprehension on her face.

Shepard had made a lot of decisions in his time. He'd saved entire colonies, wiped out small armies, survived everything the galaxy threw at him. But this was, by far, the single best decision he'd ever made in his entire life.

Something about his thoughts must have shown on his face because Tali's hesitation vanished. She moved on him quickly, pushing him against the elevator wall and bringing his head down to hers. Their lips met in an enveloping kiss, Tali tilting her head to better explore his mouth. This was her first kiss, her first time feeling another person skin to skin. The warmth of his lips teased her, reminding she wasn't even out of her suit yet. It exhilarated her.

The sound of the doors slid open again and Shepard caught her hands in his, pushing himself off the wall and her backwards while minimizing distance between them. He kicked his bag into the cabin entryway and stooped to delicately scoop up the mask before standing and meeting her again, offhandedly placing the mask on some nearby boxes. He pushed her against the wall beside the door and pulled back her hood, kissing the exposed part of her neck.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, enjoying his scent without the use of an air filter. The feel of his lips lightly on her neck making her wonder why it'd taken her so long to tell him how she felt. If she ever had a hint it would feel this good she would have done it two years ago. She brought one leg up alongside his hip, enjoying the feel of him running a hand along her thigh even through the suit.

But the constant teasing was getting to her. She needed to feel what it was like to be with him, without the damn suit between them.

Her right hand abandoned squeezing his shoulder long enough to punch the door panel. Hearing it open she flipped with him along the wall so his back was now facing the open door. She pushed him in with a smile.

Shepard stripped off his shirt quickly, but Tali shook her head slightly when he moved to help her with hers. "Sorry, but this takes a minute." She chuckled, privately hating her suit even more.

"In that case mind if I rinse off real quick? Want to make sure I'm… Clean, for you." Shepard said, receiving an appreciative nod from Tali and stepping into the bathroom.

Shepard had never had a faster shower. He didn't even wait for the water to get warm before scrubbing quickly to get all the sweat and other potentially harmful bacteria off him. He turned off the water and took a deep breath.

He stepped out from the bathroom, seeing Tali by the foot of his bed. The lights from the fish tank were the only thing illuminating the room, her pale eyes glinting in the darkness. "Hope you don't mind me not getting dressed…" he muttered, walking towards her.

"Not at all…" She answered, eyeing him seductively. He reached her and stopped, bringing a hand to caress her face, then move down her bare form.

She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of skin contact. It was warm, like the sun but in small doses, following his fingertips wherever they traced.

Tali opened her eyes and saw him watching her. It mattered to him that she enjoy this. That thought alone brought a rush of feeling through her that made her knees weak and heart ache more than ever. She reached around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, this one much slower.

When they broke she stepped backwards, pulling him with her onto the bed. The shock of warmth that hit her body as so much skin made contact at once caused her to gasp, then relax as it settled in. It was nothing she'd felt before. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her feet and feeling as much of him as she could.

It was difficult, trying to make the body express every ounce of passion the heart was feeling. But she'd be damned if she didn't try.