Author's Note

Hello readers, this is a companion/follow-up to Special Ops. It probably won't make very much sense if you haven't read that one, sorry. This was just one of those things that popped into my head and wouldn't go away until I wrote it down.

This one occurs between the end of Chapter 52 and beginning of the Epilogue... about seven weeks before, for those following. It's intended to round out the post-war situation just a tiny little bit, give a glimpse into... call it domestic life for Susan.

Fair warning, the latter section prods the boundaries of a T rating.

Credit for the cover image goes to RedLineR91 of deviantart with many thanks. If you haven't seen his awesome Mass Effect art, go check it out!

Edited: 7/5/14 - I added a final little section to better transition this to the Special Ops epilogue. When I went back and reread the end of this one I didn't feel it quite conveyed the direction of where things were going for Susan and Elijah. Hopefully this is a little more clear and a little bit more of a story conclusion.

"We surrender."

"Smart choice," the batarian pirate on the other end of the comm channel said. "Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. You give us any trouble; we'll make you regret it."

"Okay, okay! Whatever you say!" Susan Rizzi-Wu said into the mic before cutting the connection. She sat back in the Sperare's cockpit and grunted. "I can't believe they fell for that."

"Well, they're dumb enough to think we're a freighter," Elijah Wu said as he throttled their corvette's engines down. "And attack us in one of their own. Does that thing even have guns?"

Susan eyed the sensor scan of the battered Kowloon-class freighter approaching their ship. "Barely?" She frowned at the modular sections coupled to the freighter's central structure; one of the blocky containers boasted a cannon that looked like it'd been scavenged from a Mako. "They're either very brave or very desperate."

"It's been tough. Close to a year and a lot of relays are still offline." Elijah's hands twitched towards the weapon controls. "We could probably just swing around and engage them, you know. It wouldn't be much of a fight."

"That would also destroy whatever they've captured. It's partly a recovery effort, remember?"

"Right." He watched the distance readout plummet as the converted Kowloon raider approached them in orbit around Chasca. Reflected light danced outside the cockpit viewports, glimmering shards nearly invisible in space but vibrant on the planet's surface.

Susan gathered some stray strands of hair and tucked them out of the way before securing her faceplate. She hadn't worn her full set of armor in over two months, and she'd let her hair grow out. The faceplate attached to her helm with a click and a hiss; the faint peach scent of air recycler fresheners teased at her nostrils. The heads-up display flickered to life and Susan blink-clicked at several icons, falling back into the training and all the long hours she'd spent in her armor during the war.

She looked over to see Elijah holding his sword's blade up before his face, inspecting it with a critical eye. Satisfied, he sheathed it as he stood up from the pilot's seat and looked at Susan. "How do you want to play this? Hard or soft?"

"Let's start soft," she said as Elijah buckled his own helmet on. "They might just be very desperate; no need for bloodshed if we can avoid it."

"Let's hope they know that." He checked the charge level on his holstered Neural Shock Targeted Emitter.

"We can always go hard if we have to." Susan paused as Elijah's faceless helmet stared at her. "Not a word."

"Of course, dear."

Susan snorted as she watched the pirate ship approach through their displays. She put the Sperare's rooms into lockdown as the other ship closed to within a thousand kilometers. "Maybe we should unlock the docking port. It'd be annoying if they blow it."

"Good thinking. We did just get it repaired."

"Yeah. I'm glad the rachni are still as good as ever." The pirate freighter grew visible in the viewports, heading directly for them with no pretense of caution or calculation. Susan checked her own NSTE and then her M-11 Suppressor. "You'd think after something like the Reapers we'd stop preying on each other, at least for a while."

"I think that's the nature of sentient species," Elijah said. "Not sure that'll ever change."

"We can only hope." Susan sighed, still watching the pirate ship approach. She brought up her omni-tool, activated her biotic amp, and let the surge of power and ecstasy flood through her body with a shudder. "Okay, let's kick some ass."

"I knew I married you for a reason."

A pair of resounding clangs signaled the pirate ship attaching to the Sperare. Rizzi and Wu waited in the short corridor outside the airlock, stacked up on both sides of the doorway and watching as the red status light turned amber. Rizzi waited another moment and unlocked the outer hatch, listening closely. A minute later she heard the hatch retract; the asari designed gears sounded almost musical, like windchimes.

She keyed the comm system as Wu flicked his NSTE on. "This is Alliance Special Forces. Stand down and prepare to be boarded. Surrender and you'll be treated fairly."

A moment passed. "Nice try," came the batarian's voice. A short, sharp thud pounded the door. "Open up or we'll blast it."

She glanced over at Wu, who shrugged resignedly. "We did warn them."

"Yup." Rizzi focused briefly on her biotics, hammered the door release, and swung out.

The batarian pirate's four eyes widened the instant before her biotic pulse hit him. She wasn't going full strength, but it still blasted him from his feet and hurled him backwards inside the airlock with a groan. Clad in battered, second-hand armor, he flew into the haggard man behind him. Both went down hard and Rizzi leapt past them, kicking away the batarian's shotgun as she moved through the airlock towards the other ship.

Her husband followed right behind her, slugging the batarian as he delivered a neural shock to the other man with his NSTE. He followed up with sprays of restraint foam to their hands and feet. The cloudy gray goo hardened rapidly upon contact with the air, holding them in place as he sprang up to follow Rizzi.

Rizzi burst through the airlock and slid left. At least half the light panels weren't working and discarded boxes of goods ranging from food to clothes to industrial tools littered the corridor. Another raider slouched against the bulkhead: he'd obviously been expecting easy pickings. She launched a Biotic Throw, curving it around to pound the turian into the wall. She blinked closer as he rebounded off the bulkhead, grabbed his head, and rammed it right back into the same spot. She let go and he dropped, unconscious.

A single shot roared out behind her; she spun to see another pirate down the corridor, in the other direction from the airlock entrance. His gun hand was out wide to his side; Wu had intercepted him and knocked his aim off with a swift parry. The Vanguard followed with a swift elbow strike to the throat. He seized the gagging pirate's arm and wrenched it straight out into an arm lock, plucking the battered pistol from the weakened grip. A hammer blow to the ear brought him to his knees and Wu finished with a sweeping kick before gumming up his hands and feet with more foam.

"Thanks." Rizzi brought out her own canister and secured the turian at her feet. "The bridge is-"

"That way." Wu nodded towards the corridor past her, coming up to join her as they advanced. Rizzi couldn't help but notice the barely restrained joy lacing his voice.

She understood it, too.

She'd been so exhausted, so burned out by the cataclysmic end of the Reaper War. She'd been ready to leave it all behind, drop off the face of the galaxy and lead a quiet little life with the man she'd come to love.

No danger.

No battles.

They ran through the connected modules of the Kowloon freighter, blinking through rows of stacked containers when they saw clear zones through the gaps. Gunfire erupted from the doorway leading to the command section as a pair of panicking pirates sprayed the cargo hold in desperation.

Damn, it felt good to be back in action.

"I'll take right," Wu said. He stepped off to the side and blitzed forward in a biotic charge as Rizzi vaulted over the last row of stolen boxes, labeled as ship parts. The weakened Charge bounced the right pirate off the hatch frame with a clatter of mismatched armor parts.

Rizzi flicked a Throw into the other man's feet, nearly flipping him upside down as he dropped to the deck face-first. Wu reached over his shoulder and drew his sword with one smooth motion before his opponent recovered. The powered, monomolecular edge sheared through the pirate's rifle without slowing.

"Rethink that, friend." He held the blade to the pirate's throat. Rizzi stood up from where she'd glued her victim to the deck by his hands and feet. The tired looking man dropped the rifle stump and raised his hands. She stepped over and secured his hands behind his back before sitting him down against the bulkhead.

She moved back to the sealed hatch before the bridge. "Locked," Wu said.

"That's the first smart thing they've done all day." Rizzi pounded the hatch twice. "Same offer! Stand down and make it easy for yourself!"

"No way!" The reply came through the ship's comm system. Rizzi exchanged a glance with Wu; the voice sounded young and frightened. He nodded to a little camera mounted above the door and stepped back, resting his sword upon his shoulder.

Rizzi stared up into the camera and pumped her arm casually. Her Annihilation Field swirled up around her; billowing tendrils of energy curled and writhed as she stood in place, looking into the camera.

"Okay! Okay! I give up! Just don't hurt me!"

"Open the door," she said. "If I have to breach it, you won't-"

The door opened with a screeching hiss, revealing the dimly lit starship bridge. Nearly a third of the control consoles were dark. A frightened looking young man stood in the center of the room, hands laced together behind his shock of ragged hair. A variety of oil marks stained his patched jumpsuit.

"Please, don't kill me. We're just doing this to survive. We don't kill anyone if we can help it, I swear!"

Rizzi dismissed her biotic aura and patted the kid down for weapons; he couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen. "We're not going to hurt you," she said, foaming his hands together. "Just take it easy."

"Wha- what's going to happen to us?"

"The Navy's on their way," Elijah said. "You're all under arrest."

"Oh god! They're gonna space us! Please, you can't let them-"

"They're not going to space you, kid. They'll treat you alright." He glanced over the loose-hanging jumpsuit, which wasn't a large size to begin with. "Hell, probably feed you better than you've been eating for weeks."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Susan said. "Now have a seat. They should be here anytime now."

"I'll secure the others," Elijah said as the young pirate sat in one of the threadbare bridge chairs, staring fearfully at Susan all the while. He paused at the bridge's exit. "Think the Navy'll be upset we changed the plan?"

Three minutes after Elijah had finished moving their prisoners to the other airlock corridor their backup arrived. A flicker of motion appeared through the freighter's forward viewport, resolving into the sleekly predatory shape of an Alliance frigate. Susan blinked in appreciation at how close it had dropped out of FTL – a stunning feat of precision piloting.

The comms trilled and a woman's English-accented voice sounded throughout the ship. "Attention pirate vessel, this is the SSV Normandy. Prepare to be boarded. You will release the occupants of your captive ship. Resistance or noncompliance will be met with deadly force. This is your only warning."

Susan reached over and hit the comm controls, then frowned and thumped the console twice before it responded. "Relax, Normandy. The situation is under control. This is Seraph November Seven Romeo Sierra Two Nine. Authorization code Foxtrot Three Delta One One Hotel."

A moment passed.

"Confirm, Seraph team." The voice sounded confused. "Report your status, please. You weren't supposed to dock with the pirate ship – or be on their bridge, for that matter."

"Uh, the plan changed," Susan said. "The pirates arrived a little early, attempted to board us. We returned the favor and neutralized the threat; seven hostiles secured and awaiting transfer to your ship."

"Oh… right then. On docking approach now."

The inner airlock cycled open and Rizzi could practically taste the new fear emanating from the captured pirates. The galaxy's two human Spectres strolled through; Shepard and Williams wore full void combat armor and carried intimidatingly large guns.

Shepard lowered his weapon after a second and turned to the row of prisoners, sitting with their backs against the bulkhead. "I know times have been tough. It's a wild frontier in a lot of sectors out here. But piracy like this isn't the answer. You're only hurting yourselves in the long run." He nodded to Williams as a security team from the Normandy emerged through the airlock. "Okay, Ash. Get them to the brig."

The Normandy team slapped cuffs on the pirates with swift, practiced motions. Susan and Elijah helped haul the prisoners to their feet, directing them through into the famous frigate. They passed down a corridor through the CIC with a large, holographic map of the galaxy dominating the center. Large swaths of dark gray blotted the map, reminding Susan of how much they'd lost when the Crucible fired, and how much they still needed to rebuild.

Shepard came to a halt in the CIC as Williams and the security team ushered the prisoners into the central lift. He took off his helmet and turned to face Susan and Elijah.

The first thing that struck her was the weight in his gaze. Sad eyes, determined eyes, heavy with the burden of the galaxy's fate – and the terrible consequences of his choices. Then he blinked and gave a little smile, and it was like the sun peeking out from behind a bank of dark clouds.

"Sorry we're late," said the savior of the galaxy.

Susan shrugged. "No plan survives contact and all that."

"That was still quite a risk you took."

"This group was desperate and dumb," Elijah said. "Not a winning combination. I'm surprised they sent you, Commander. Two Spectres against these guys would have been massive overkill."

"We just happened to be in the area running general stability ops. We weren't specifically targeting them." Shepard frowned for a second. "By the way, have we met? I feel like I know you two from somewhere."

Susan reached up and removed her faceplate; Elijah likewise removed his helmet. "You were pretty far gone the last time," she said. "I'm surprised you remember any of it at all."

Sudden comprehension dawned on Shepard's face. "You were the ones who found me – after the Crucible. I should thank you."

"We happened to be in the area," Susan said with a sad smile. "Lost a lot of good people that day."

"Yes. Yes we did." Shepard glanced forward towards the Normandy's cockpit for an instant; in that moment Susan caught a glimpse of how much ending the Reapers had cost him.

And in that moment, realized that she'd just forgiven him for a grudge she hadn't even been conscious of bearing. The man was acutely aware of the synthetic lives he'd sacrificed. Nobody should have to bear that burden.

Even as the realization struck her Shepard changed the subject. "So, you're Seraphs now, huh?"

Elijah nodded. "We both needed a change after the war. The Seraph project just… felt right."

Started in the turbulent aftermath of the war, the Seraph Ops task force stood for Special Exploration, Reconstruction, Aid, Peacekeeping, and Humanitarian Operations. A loose conglomeration of military and civilian personnel from the allied species, its members worked with the joint governments and militaries to reestablish connections with lost sectors and render aid where needed.

"You've been doing good work," Shepard said. "Things are still pretty bad in a lot of places, and we can't be everywhere at once." He turned to the side as a brown-skinned woman approached and handed him a data pad, whispering as she did so. "Thanks, Traynor." He looked back to the N7s. "Not for lack of trying, though. I'm afraid duty calls us elsewhere. Look, can I ask a favor of you two?"

"Sure."

"A salvage and recovery crew is on the way for the freighter. They should arrive within the next twenty hours. Could you stick around until they get here, keep an eye on it?"

"Aye aye, Commander."

Susan was about to turn away when Shepard's eyes lit up. He grinned. "The Graal. Mark Seven, wasn't it?"

She spread her hands helplessly. "That's me."

"Did you ever find a use for it?"

Susan chuckled. "Tell you what, Commander. I'll share the story with you next time we meet and you're not busy saving the galaxy."

Traynor laughed once from off to the side. "Fat chance of that!"

"It's a deal," said Shepard. "And… thank you."

"Anytime." Susan looked around; the activity level in the Normandy CIC was growing quietly but steadily. "Looks you're about to get busy. We should go."

Susan finished folding the Fury hood with its embedded circuitry and slipped it into place next to her gloves on the armor rack. The faceplate went last; its eerie design stared up at her as she ran a hand over it, smiling to herself.

Elijah entered the little armory, helmet tucked under his arm. "Well, the Normandy's gone, and we're holding relative position by the freighter. Guess we're sticking around a little longer than we'd planned."

"These things happen." She watched as he started stripping his armor; he removed his back-slung sword first, held it wistfully for a moment. "You've missed it, haven't you?"

"What?"

"This." Susan gestured at her disassembled armor and nodded at the blade in his hand. "The action… the thrill?"

"No, I…" He fell silent for a moment. "I don't want you to think I don't enjoy the peace with you. I know how hard the last battles of the war were, and I didn't want to put you in another situation like-"

"It's okay." She smiled, stretched a hand out and touched his shoulder gently. "Honestly, I've missed this too. I think… I needed something like this."

"You sure?"

"And don't think we're done either. A little pirate action's gotten me all worked up, and I still need some release." Susan grabbed a pair of worn wooden sparring swords and stepped out of the little armory room. "Get changed; we're going a few rounds."

Elijah grinned.

The converted hold rang with echoing clatters.

They'd turned the cargo space into a modular, multipurpose room. Crash couches folded up into the bulkheads. A light couch, shoved up against one side for the moment, and a rug attested to their initial efforts to make the space into a living room of sorts. After the first two emergency supply runs they'd put that idea on hold. Keeping the space clear had its own benefits though.

Susan breathed hard as she worked the practice sword, parrying and riposting Elijah's relentless blows. She was breathing harder now than when they'd assaulted the pirate ship. Her bare feet danced across the deck as she kept moving. Twenty minutes of sparring with Elijah felt like an hour of urban combat against husks and Cannibals.

She picked off a low swing to her left, slid her sword up along the length of his to make a return thrust – the pressure against her sword disappeared. Susan launched herself forward into a biotic blink, barely dodging Elijah's strike from the other side where he'd blinked himself. She whipped her sword up and out, keeping him back for the moment as she reestablished her footing. With a moment's pause she reached up and flicked a stray strand of hair from her face.

Her husband sidestepped to his right – then flickered over a meter to his left. That wasn't good. The combination of swordplay and biotic blinks always meant Elijah was really getting into it. With all of his Slayer experience and his natural reach over her, she'd never been able to beat him going all-out.

Fortunately, she never had to.

He advanced, driving her back with a flurry of strokes and thrusts that she barely managed to deflect. The assault came to a sudden finish when he blinked backwards a meter, sword in guard position and confident grin on his face.

Perfect.

Susan reached down and gave the drawstring of her exercise pants a swift tug, sashaying her hips as the loose garment slid down her legs. She stepped out of the puddle of cloth, hooked it with her foot, and flicked it off to the side with a lazy kick. Sure enough, Elijah's gaze followed its progress for an instant before snapping back to her legs, fixating on her exposed flesh.

She took swift advantage of the opportunity, closing the distance with her own biotic blink. A swift, truncated upward jab brought their sword hilts together with a clatter. She moved closer, pushed their locked blades up between them and over their heads. Her free hand came up like a knife's edge and halted right before his throat, one of their agreed win conditions. Their chests heaved as they caught their breaths.

Susan smiled playfully at Elijah, centimeters away. "You always fall for that."

He smiled back. "Or maybe I just enjoy letting you do it."

"Just keep telling that to yourself."

Elijah leaned in even closer. She felt the heat radiating from his body as his mouth moved towards her ear. "You know, I don't think sparring is what you're really after here." The whisper of his breath sent tingles of anticipation racing through her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, then quivered as he planted feather-light kisses down her ear towards her neck. "And – I still win."

"Of course you do," he murmured between teasing her skin with his lips. One hand slipped down and around to her shoulders, caressing its way down the curves of her back.

Susan turned her head as Elijah came in again, met his lips with hers gently. She pulled back playfully after the briefest contact. Her hand went from its position at his throat, slipped over his shoulder, and wrapped around the back of his neck. Their practice weapons clattered to the deck as they kept up the interplay, coming together in soft kisses for the barest instances again and again.

At some point his hand had crept underneath her shirt, tracing molten trails across her taut flesh. He moved down, and her breath quickened again as his fingers danced at the boundaries of her underwear.

She pressed up against him, slid her hand under his shirt, ran her fingertips over muscle and scar tissue alike. She moaned quietly at the – delightful – distraction of his hand. "Admit it," she said. "Your favorite part of sparring is… mmm – when you get to sheathe your sword. To the hilt."

Elijah paused, stared at her with a crooked grin. "Really?"

"Oh shush." Susan giggled and drew him into a slow, warm kiss. She pulled back slightly, rolled her hips against his still fingers. "And who told you to stop?"

"You are…" He leaned down, nibbled at her throat for a moment. "Incorrigible."

"And you… love it." She sighed contentedly as his hands resumed their work.

"Definitely. Also why I always let you win."

"Sure you-" Elijah cut her off with a kiss, and she let the bliss of the moment drive away all other considerations for a long while. She finally broke away. "How long did you set the autopilot for?"

His grin lit his eyes with a hungry light. "Until we cancel it."

"Oh." She returned the grin, moving back in. "Excellent."

Susan woke slowly in their bed, warm and contented, to Elijah gently stroking her shoulders as he lay snuggled against her. Half-dozing, he ran a hand absently over her skin, absently tracing some of the scars she'd picked up during the war. That was one of the things she loved about him; he'd never made her feel self-conscious about them.

She turned towards him. "Let's just stay here. Ignore the galaxy for a while."

"That'd be nice, but the recovery team is on the way, remember?"

"Hmm. But they won't be here for a long time. Enough for… several more rounds?"

Elijah laughed. "More? You really are incorrigible." He pushed himself up to one elbow. "That pirate ship really did get you worked up."

"It brought back some memories," Susan said, drawing lazy circles on his chest with her fingers. "I think… I think I was running from it all. Everything that happened during the war… everything associated with it."

"I know."

"You do?"

He nodded. "I didn't want to push you about it. You needed the time and space."

"Thanks. You know, this little boarding action made me realize how much I've missed parts of it."

"The adrenaline?"

"Partly," she admitted. "There is something to be said for the rush. But also the people. I've been thinking; we really should reconnect with the others."

Elijah's face grew serious. "I always expected you'd do something like that eventually. It's who you are. I've been keeping track of messages, news. The quarians have been constructing a monument on Rannoch to the geth. The dedication ceremony is still a while away, but Vael's just sent us an invite. Probably smart, given how spotty communications are out here."

"That sounds good… fitting. Life goes on. I'd like that. But first…" Susan slid up against him. "Your wife has needs that require your undivided attention."

And she received it.

Five Weeks Later

The medbay door of the Orizaba slid open and Susan wandered out in a daze. She clutched a data pad in one hand, hardly aware of its presence. The medical examination upon returning from that lost colony had been a fond throwback to the Special Ops missions. She hadn't contracted any of the diseases running rampant in that colony, which was a relief – especially with the other news she'd just received.

Elijah stood out in the corridor, finishing up a conversation with one of the Seraph liaisons she didn't recognize. The hanar bowed and strolled away slowly on its multiple tendrils. Elijah dismissed his omni-tool and turned to her with a tired grin.

"Hey, we just made contact with a sanctuary shelter on Sinmara. They really need aid, and there's no clue how long the Caleston relay will remain online, so-" He paused, looking at her. "What is it?"

She stared blankly at him for a long moment, during which his face grew increasingly concerned. Finally she found her voice. "So… remember that biotic blinking sterility thing?"

"Yes." Elijah's face twisted in quiet pain; they'd had more than one tear filled night on this subject in the months following the war. He reached out and took her hand. "Susan, it was for a purpose, a good cause. What we did, it was so others could have a future. It-"

"Looks like that doesn't happen for humans."

"-What?" He stared at her for a second, then his eyes widened. "You don't mean…"

Susan nodded. "I'm pregnant."

Saying it somehow made it seem more real and she smiled, still stunned at the news. Elijah brought her hand up, kissed it gently, then wrapped her in an embrace. She felt tears and quiet laughter escape from her.

"Wow." Elijah chuckled and shrugged. "I… have no idea what to do."

"We'll be alright – we'll be better than alright."

"I'll talk to the other Seraphs," he said. "There must be somebody else capable of getting to Sinmara in time. We'll-"

"Whoa." Susan cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get one thing straight immediately. I am not helpless or useless because I'm pregnant. We started doing this to make the galaxy a better place. It's still early – I fully intend to keep it up as long as I can. So let's get the ship ready, get the supplies loaded, and go help some people."

Elijah smiled. "I love you." He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. "A baby. Wow. I… I never really thought I'd see this."

"Me neither. And now with the Reapers gone, we have the time." Susan's heart raced with excitement. "We have the future."