First of all - I don't know how long this is going to be. I'm ballparking 3 chapters for now so I don't let this spin out of control.
So here's the thing: when I played Andromeda, I couldn't decide between Liam or Jaal because none of them really resonated with me. I teetered towards Vetra, and then I met Reyes. My Ryder had put a lot on herself to be the new Pathfinder, trying to live up to her father's memory, and in doing so, suppressed a lot of her own desires and passion and thrill-seeking ways. Reyes was all of that wrapped up in a delicious package, and so she saw that all through to the end.
I've always wondered about the half of Andromeda we don't get to experience, and what happened to Reyes during the mutiny and what not. And then I wanted to throw Sara in. So some of it is a bit all over the place as I focus down on the complex relationship Sara had with the Nexus as the only person with a Pathfinder link, but not a Pathfinder herself. Another is trying to explore Reyes a bit more so I can understand who he is. Another is trying to capture that dangerous element that Reyes exudes that charms Ryder, how the two have this dangerous magnetism even though there's part of them that knows they're bad/not really right for each other, and yet in many ways they are.
...
Periculum
...
She remembers seeing him at the bar, with slicked black hair and hazel eyes. His fingers play with the rim of his glass, swirling a dark liquor in a languid motion. He notices her first, and his lips curve up into a half-crumpled smile. Charming, she thinks, and there's something youthful in his visage. She can't help it; she's mesmerized as he lifts the glass to his lips, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, and he lowers his drink with half a sigh and another glance. But she's not here to be picked up by some handsome man, Latino when it still mattered. Sara Ryder pulls her fingers through her caramel-brown tresses and looks away deliberately, trying her best to ignore that stare that follows her as she picks her way through the bar. And yet halfway through the night, in between the delicious swirl of alcohol and haze of thoughts half-formed as a result, she can't help but to glance back at the stranger – and the one instance of contact sends electricity cracking down her spine.
.
When the first rounds of gunfire break out, Sara Ryder had – quite honestly - seen it all coming.
She ducks when a ping rings out, and she swears she can hear the woosh of a bullet fly too close to her face. Ryder leaps over a crate and slides down, gritting her teeth as she feels the burn of her civvies against the glass flooring. But her desperate lunge hadn't gotten her far enough, and with a slowly dawning realization, as if in slow motion, Sara realizes she's still in the cross-fire, too liable to get shot, and if she knew any better – she'd be the first one dead.
That is, until hand firmly grasps her collar, and before she knows what's happening, she's yanked out of the way. Just in time, too, as another gunshot rings out, echoing loudly in the mostly abandoned atrium, and the sound of angry voices swell in her absence. Sara herself barely catches her breath before she whips her head around, the cool rush of biotics already focused to her clenched fists, ready to attack –
Until she locks gazes with hazel eyes.
There's a brief bewilderment in his face, too, eyebags carved deep into his skin as if he hadn't slept for days. And yet, they crinkle as he smiles – that same crooked smile that she remembers so fleetingly – and his eyebrow arches before he speaks.
"Attacking the person who saved your life?"
Sara exhaled through her nose, lowering her fist. "Sorry. And thank you," she added as an afterthought.
"No harm done," says her mysterious saviour, and as she suspected, his voice had a light Spanish accent that she vaguely recalled hearing back in the Milky Way. And then the warmth in his eyes suddenly cools, and he presses his back against the crate that he'd all but shoved them behind, peering around the corner with a grimace. "Didn't think this was all going to start today," he says, and it's almost conversational. "I had a feeling, but not for another week at least."
Sara thinks she knows what he's going on about, and she watches as he draws his gun, the magazine hissing as he ejects the clip and smacks a new one in. "Sorry about the roughhousing, by the way. Now, shall we?"
So maybe she doesn't really know what he's on about. "Excuse me?"
"We're getting out of here," he said unflinchingly, not even turning to acknowledge her as he peers once more around the crate. "Unless you want to stay here and get caught in the crossfire."
As if on cue, another gunshot rings out, pinging in the hyper-modern atrium of the Nexus. Sara narrows her eyes, despite all of it. Her hands jump to her holster, until she bites back a curse. Of course she didn't bring her gun – she hadn't for a couple months while she'd been awakened on the Nexus. Because she trusted the Initiative – and yet, judging by the amount of gunfire she'd heard in the last ten minutes, that was not a sentiment shared by many.
"I'm not going anywhere with someone I don't know, even if he did save my life," she says firmly. The dark-haired stranger finally looks back at her, gun cocked and another half-smirk on his face.
"Of course, where are my manners? Reyes Vidal – pilot. Oh and you don't have to introduce yourself," he adds. "You're quite famous on the Nexus aren't you, Ryder?"
Sara purses her lips. Of course. Vidal's smile only grows at her scowl. "I'll keep you safe," he says, almost diplomatically. "You're the reason the Rebels have finally opened fire – and it would be terrible if something bad happened to you."
'Like my father?', Sara can't help but to think bitterly, lip curling at the thought. Her father, who hadn't shown up yet at the Nexus, who's absence, along with the Hyperion, was the cause of panic in the first place. She knew what she represented, what her lineage meant, and yet to think that the rebellion was caused because they wanted a shot at her? Sara could see from Vidal's face that he was watching her process the information. After giving her a few more moments to digest the information before he stood up from his squat. "Time to move, Ryder."
And with that, he sidled over to the other side of the crate, raising his gun and aimed forward. While her feet may have followed him, her mind was still reeling, trying to process the information. So the rebellion started… because of her? It doesn't make sense, she thought, as she took the stairs in twos as they ran down to the shuttle system.
"Keep watch, will you?" Vidal's voice interrupts her from her thoughts, and Sara blinks.
"I'm unarmed," she says, and she allows her eyes to drift from the jut of his chin and linger on the gun still in his grasp. As if to make his stance more clear, Vidal's grip only tightens around the grip.
"Now Ryder, I would think that a biotic is simply incapable of being unarmed," Vidal replies smoothly, but he doesn't say much as he turns around, omnitool out, fingering codes quicker than Sara could really register. So she sighs and closes her eyes, that ice-cool sensation spreading from her implant and flowing into her limbs. The power concentrates into her hand, and as she clenches it into a fist, she feels the energy spike, as if growing exponentially in her fingertips. But luckily, no one seems to be trying to reach the shuttles – at least right now – and the metallic hiss of the shuttle doors behind her informs her of the successful override.
"You have the codes?" Sara mutters as she unclenches her fist, feeling the power in her fist disperse from its build up. Vidal only turns and smiles, that same oddly crooked smile that she begins to suspect is more than merely mischievous.
They duck into the shuttle after his gesture, and it takes another fancy fiddling with his omnitool before the shuttle doors close. The air around their shuttle vibrates as Sara feels the mass effect technology power around them, and before she knows it, the familiar muted roar of sound faint in her ears. Vidal sighs and leans against a windowed pane, pushing his fingers into his temples.
"They're trying to kill me," Sara says slowly, and this time – the implication does sink in. Maybe the gunshot wasn't random at all; maybe the bullet that was close to skimming the top of her skull was meant to sink between her eyes. Maybe she had always known, and was in denial because – if she were alive, maybe it meant her Dad was. And Scott. And the Hyperion.
Yet she knew the underlying murmurs of doubt, growing louder and louder as days blurred to weeks then months, as hope fizzled to almost a stop upon her awakening. And it was all because –
"—You carry the Pathfinder name," Vidal said, and for a moment, his voice actually sounds a bit tired. "And yet this is unsurprising – we were always doomed to revert to a carnal understanding of the world. As if you're a royal princess."
"And if the rebels kill me, they overthrow the Initiative." Sara can't keep the bitterness from her voice, and suddenly she wishes for nothing but a familiar gun, nestled in a familiar holster, to be around her hip. She's so naïve, she thinks – when she had first awakened, there was lively activity. Happiness, hope, because as the Great Alec Ryder's daughter, maybe she could fill his shoes when he'd been gone for so long. She'd trusted the Initiative, because it was her people and maybe, just maybe, her father's baby – and the last thing she'd ever expected were those people she trusted, that were handpicked by her Father and his collaborators, would point a gun to her face.
"Thank you." Her voice echoes oddly in the shuttle, displaced by the sound of their shuttle whooshing through the network. Vidal only glances at her before flipping his gun to the side.
"Don't thank me yet," he says, almost gravely.
The shuttle doors slide open with a cheerful ding, and the still-flickering blue-purple silhouette of Avina greets them with a wave. Her robotic voice begins to go off, welcoming them to the Docking Bay, but she ignores the wind-chime, overly-enthusiastic voice of the VI and Sara instead raises her fists, pivoting to cover as Vidal begins to move.
"Military training, I like it," he whistles. And it might've been coy had it not been the fact that he's pointing his gun forward too. Sara merely scoffs, her eyes peeled for the briefest signs of movement. Vidal's steps suddenly stop, and Sara would've crashed into him had his slim fingers not caught the tip of her elbow. She's only confused for a few moments, as a gravelly voice that was unmistakeably human growls out only two words.
"Surrender Ryder."
Sara readies her fist, but Vidal's fingers press more urgently, as if telling her to stop. She feathers an exhale and chances a glance as far as her miniscule head movements and peripheral vision allows – and she sees a man pointing a gun at Vidal and, with she realizes with a jolt, two other men flanking his side doing the same. Sara doesn't understand what'sfueling Vidal, and she half expects that hand on her elbow to suddenly twist and thrust her in between. She can't trust anyone here – not without her gun, not without her father and brother by her side.
But Vidal doesn't suddenly throw her over. Instead, he says a very firm "No".
And he fires just one round, the sound like a cracking whip and deafening to Sara's ears. Yet she stills her mind and ignores the ringing that suddenly surrounds her, muscling her instincts in order as she releases the buildup of biotic energy at the other two men. This time, there is a sickening crunch as the two men are thrown backwards – and, to Sara's shock, two more shots ring out as her targets crumple to the ground, dead.
"I do like your military training," Vidal says, but Sara ignores him and smacks his arm instead.
"You didn't have to kill them!"
"No?" Vidal doesn't seem taken aback, only icily calm as he regards her, hazel eyes no longer warm or amused. "They were going to kill you. And I believe I said I wouldn't let that happen."
There's some sort of expression that crosses his gaze, and for a moment, Sara's sent back to the time they'd seen each other in the bar. With a jolt, she realizes she can finally place what that feeling was – the odd electricity that shot down her spine, the haze in his eyes that made her heart stutter erratically. It's danger.
Part of her isn't sure whether she should be swooning or on her guard, but Vidal seems to not pay much mind as he takes several leaping bounds forward and glance down at the bodies that he'd shot at point blank. He merely curls his lips instead before turning expectantly to her. Doubt begins to seep into her mind – she knows she's doing something reckless, and certainly her brother would have a lot to say if he could see her now.
But he's not here. And nor was dad. And she was done being the naïve little girl who was defenseless and too trusting on the Nexus.
Sara merely nods, and another expression flashes into his hazel eyes. There's another small upturn of his lips as he raises his gun once more, leading her towards the civilian headquarters.
And in what could have been several hours or merely heartbeats, they arrive at the crossroad. But before Sara can question it, Vidal veers to the left, away from the civilian headquarters and towards –
"—The cargo bay?"
"Hmm?" Vidal turns, eyebrows knitting together in an expression that did not fool her. Ryder plants her foot down, though, and refuses to move even as his lips part.
"You're leaving?" Sara manages.
"Well of course I am," Vidal responds, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. "The Nexus is going to be a shithole – well, more than it already is – and it's not like staying here will benefit me at all."
Ah.
She's stupid, Sara realizes, and though she had just moments ago told herself she was too trusting – she'd done it all over again. Sara always knew she wasn't ready to be the Pathfinder; she knew that there was too much trust in her and she was simply too trusting. She didn't even realize she trusted him until now, and if anything it was just another wound, another betrayal during this entire mutiny.
"You're a rebel."
"Not quite," Vidal says. "I'd prefer opportunist."
"Well, thank you for taking me this far," Sara says firmly, and before he can take a step towards her, she raised her already-blue fists in anticipation. "I wish you luck getting off-world."
And there it is again, that half-smile that, now, was much more dubious than she'd originally pegged it to be. "Did I forget to mention?" She notices now that he's no longer holding his gun in both hands, but merely one; in the other she can faintly make out the glean of metal. An EMP, she realizes, and she knows she's too late.
"I'm kidnapping you, Ryder."
.
By the time Sara wakes up, she realizes with a jolt that she's on a ship. The safety straps dig uncomfortably into her skin as she tries to wiggle and test her range of movement, both of which proving to be on the fruitless side. With a jolt, she realizes that what's beyond her range of vision isn't blackness, but the yawning abyss that was the galaxy.
"Vidal?" She snarls, and a bit of surprise overtakes her as the man himself twists his head around the edge of the pilot seat.
"Ryder," he merely says, and Sara hates that nothing in his voice is apologetic.
"Let me free."
"By all means," Vidal says pleasantly. "You'll find the release clasp to your right." Sara blinks and looks down – and she seethes when she sees what he means: the red, innocent release button, tempting like a big button she knows she shouldn't push. "Sorry for the tightness; didn't want you to hit your head while you were passed out."
After the internal debate, Sara absolves that nothing else could really be worse right now. So when she presses the red release clasp, she's a bit surprised to hear the belts hiss quietly as they retract from her figure. She rubs along the indents of her arms and legs where the bindings had particularly dug in, and she stands up, bracing one hand on his chair, the other cloaked in blue biotic energy.
"Turn it around," Sara hisses, each syllable punctuated by another pulse of blue.
Yet Vidal doesn't even blink, his eyes never leaving forward. "You know how to pilot a ship? Because waving biotics can be misconstrued as a threat."
The complete uncaring in his voice only irks Sara further, as she now clenches the fist in warning. "Turn. It. Around."
"So you can continue to be treated like royalty, so the Initiative can continue worshipping you like you're their hope, until yet another section breaks off and becomes another rebellion?" Vidal responds coolly. And without warning, he turns his chair; Sara lifts her hand before she's yanked along with it. Instead, she's treated to an icy-hazel glance. "I'm doing you a favour, Ryder," he says in a tone that exudes finality, but Sara isn't having any of it.
"Is that why you saved my life?"
"I am an opportunist. I saw an opportunity, and I took it," Vidal says dismissively.
"I'm supposed to thank you, then."
Her captor sighs, running a hand through his hair, before reconvening at his lap. "You have no obligation to follow me once we land in Kadara. Although I advise you do," he says, and Sara somehow knows he's being dead serious. "The locals don't take to the words Initiative or Pathfinder very well."
The local Angara haven't been the most receptive to human contact, Sara knew; worse were the Kett. She'd learned that the first settlements on Eos ended in extermination thanks to that species, and it only served to irk her more knowing that she – her family – could've prevented this. If they weren't lost in space aboard the Hyperion.
"The bottom line is," Vidal is saying, "the Initiative and the Nexus is over. For all of us. But especially you – because they'll keep you around and you're always going to be waiting for the Hyperion. You're here, and it's time you started living."
The words sit oddly in Sara, in a way she doesn't quite understand. And there's danger in his eyes, those hazels eyes and slick black hair and oddly crooked smile. There's also an odd promise, too – one that Sara herself doesn't understand and yet, despite her really trying, she can't find herself to actually be mad at him. Maybe it was because she knew he was right, or maybe it was that odd spark she could feel that made her limbs burn and her veins sing It's all so different and compelling and captivating and Sara thinks that maybe, maybe, this danger was something she's always been craving, even back then at the bar when their eyes first met.
She swallows.
"Just get us to Kadara."
And judging by the way his smirk never falters as Reyes turns around, Sara knows that he'll do just that.