The Short Road Home

Amber Penglass

Chapter One

The dress, when Jaal presented it to Sara, fit surprisingly well. It had clearly begun its life as an angaran gown, but a few clever modifications allowed it to look like it had been made for her all along.

"Alright, I confess, I thought your mother was pulling my leg with the 'he's good at sewing' bit," Sara Ryder said sheepishly, turning in front of the slender bit of mirror, smiling at her purple companion in its reflection.

Jaal came up behind her and slipped his big hands around her waist, flattening his palms against her belly as he pulled her back into him. She went easily; she liked being held, and he liked holding. One of the many things about them that matched up quite nicely like that.

"Another idiom to add to my collection? I like this one. 'Pulling your leg,'" Jaal echoed, his whiskey-rumble voice doing things to her insides that, given their location, she had no choice but to staunchly ignore. Sex under a waterfall? Check. Sex in the Tempest's engine room? Check. Tech room, bridge, various planets? Check, check, and check.

But his mother's house? The morning of his sister's wedding?

No.

Sara had to draw a line somewhere.

As if the universe had seen fit to stamp its seal of approval on Sara's restraint, the door to Jaal's childhood room burst open. Jaal did not move away, but the trek his left hand had begun to make southward did halt abruptly.

"Jaal! You must come, quickly!" The angaran male who stood in the door was familiar, so Sara assumed they'd been introduced in the whirlwind of activity she'd arrived amid that morning, but she couldn't remember his name to save her life. Something starting with an 'S.' Saruul? Suraal?

"Take a breath, Rasuul," Jaal told him, releasing Sara to approach the distraught man.

Sara sighed internally; so much for starting with an 'S.'

Jaal went with Saruul, the groom's brother as far as Sara understood, and left Sara to finish getting ready. She wasn't quite sure what else to do with herself. They were all supposed to be barefoot, and only the bride and groom were permitted ornaments. She didn't think the hairless angaran would even notice if her hair was arrayed differently from her normal red-brown ponytail, and as far as she knew she was the only non-angaran expected to be present. Not only present, but involved.

'Sehrusca,' Jaal's sister had called it, the group of females -sisters, cousins, nieces, but absolutely no mothers or aunts- picked by the bride to advise her the morning of her nuptials. The pale lavender angaran woman had approached Sara to ask her to be part of her Sehrusca on Sara's second visit to the family compound, well before the events that had seen the Milky Way races settled on Miridian. Sara had half expected to be politely forgotten, or to have the invitation rescinded once the bride realized Sara wasn't going anywhere and she'd actually have to follow through.

Instead, nearly a week prior, Sara had received a package with the dress, a fruit with a rind like stone, a stylized pen, and a small notebook of some kind of thick, ridged paper. Jaal had walked in on her standing at her desk, items in hand, staring at the mass of angaran textiles in utter bewilderment. He'd laughed his deep, unashamed laugh and explained the significance of each traditional item. All women in the Sehrusca would receive the same package and wear the same gown, to symbolize all their advice was equally welcome. The pen and book were for her to put down the advice she planned to give, so the bride would have a permanent record. The fruit was a gift; the gift varied from bride to bride, some giving jewelry or scented oils.

She'd tried the dress on while Jaal had set to work on the fruit with his belt knife, promising she'd love it. He'd promptly forgotten the treat and the knife in his hand a few moments later when she'd exclaimed, laughing, that it was a good thing her breasts were small, otherwise the dress would never have fit, even as poorly as it did. The look on his face when he'd looked up from his task had been the only warning she'd received before fruit and knife had been dropped in favor of filling his hands with her.

'Remembering that is Not Helping,' Sara thought to herself when she realized that heat in her belly was back. Her reflection was that of a preoccupied woman, face flushed. She cleared her throat, turned sharply from the mirror, and reached up to let her hair down. Even if none of the angaran would understand the concept of formal updo's, she did, and she wanted to be sure she showed Jaal's sister she was grateful to be included.

In the common room of the sprawling house Sara found the other women, all in the same dress she wore. They were arrayed on colorful cushions around low tables filled with small bits of actual food instead of the nutrient paste that was the angaran daily staple. Sara recognized slices of the stone-rine fruit.

The angaran women spotted her and exclaimed over her arrival, praising Jaal's handiwork. The bride herself, Tevehra, peered at Sara with wide eyes, then swore to Sara she'd never thought of whether or not the gown would fit her alien form.

"You have my apologies, pahvara," Tevehra said, coming over to clasp her hands. Her own gown was a mixture of blues and greens and pinks on a background of indigo, like a rainbow embedded in the surface of oil. Her jewelry reminded Sara of the ornaments the Moshae wore.

"None are needed," Sara replied easily. In the back of her mind, she asked, 'Pahvara?'

~It means, roughly, 'sister in law,' Pathfinder,~ SAM provided in the back of Sara's mind. ~Or perhaps, 'adopted sister.'~

'Thank you,' Sara thought back at her AI passenger.

From a pocket in the gown, Sara withdrew her little book, dutifully filled with as many non-species specific bits of wisdom as she could think of. Or, rather, as many as she could pry out of Lexi and Vetra, both of whom were older and had the advantage of having been in cross-species relationships before, two things that put them a step above Sara's own experiences. Six months of bouncing around the Heleus Cluster with Jaal hardly made her an expert.

As it turned out, Sara hardly had to worry; most of the advice was shockingly, blatantly sexual, and she spent most of the morning laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. One of the stylized pens was produced midway, and many women added things to their books of advice as the gathering progressed. When Sara was asked, directly, if she personally had any bedroom wisdom to offer, she blinked in surprise.

"You do realize the only, ah, angaran experiences I've had were with your brother?" She asked, absolutely stunned that her voice came out steady. Laughter was threatening to take her voice.

Tevehra grinned widely at her, the two rows of narrow, flat teeth reminding Sara of tiny piano keys. "Second brother," the bride said. "His true mother is my true mother's sister."

"Ah," Sara said, as if that explained everything. So this was Jaal's cousin? Not sister? But sister in angaran culture, apparently. So then what counted as a cousin? Angaran family group dynamics seemed to be as complicated as their approach to handling emotions was simple.

"Is discussing such things of your own brother not done?" One of the other women asked Sara. "Is it it taboo to know? Secret?"

Sara snickered. She couldn't help it. "Scott's conquests? Secret? If they're supposed to be, no one ever told him."

Somehow, Sara managed to steer the conversation back to the bride. They passed the morning nibbling on sweets and fruit, sipping water that tingled the throat, and sharing the most ribald things they could contrive. By the time Tevehra's true mother arrived to fetch the bride to the ceremony, which would actually be private, Sara was more comfortable than she could recall being in a long time. She had been assured the tingly water was non-alcoholic, but she was beginning to wonder; she was not normally given to such loopy grins without booze involved. Then again, when Jaal found her and gave her that slow, one-sided grin of his, there was more than one thing that could make her loopy.

"You enjoyed yourself," he observed when he was near enough to speak. Watching him cross the grassy expanse of the compound's courtyard, filled with tables and decorations for the celebration, had been enjoyable all on its own, but she knew that wasn't what he'd meant.

"Very much so," she said. He reached out and took her hand. Touching her was second nature to him; if she was within reach, there was contact. She had begun to not always notice when his fingers would trail down an arm, brush across her back, or -his favorite- tuck a stray strand of hair out of the way.

"What did you discuss that has you smiling so?" He asked, in a way that was more sly than she was used to from him.

"Nuh-uh," she replied, wiggling a finger in front of his nose. "Your sister warned me. Sehrusca talks are solemn, private things, the sanctity of which- hey, stop laughing, I'm serious!" But she couldn't keep her expression straight for anything; she laughed along with him. Apprently he knew quite well what went on among the women of a Sehrusca.

"Come," he said, and hooked an arm around her waist to pull her along. "The true celebration does not begin until Tevehra and Sahrul return from their communion, but we are permitted some entertainment in the meantime. Forgive me, but I do not think I have ever asked- do you make music?"

"Mom insisted Scott and I have lessons when we were little," she confessed. "Really little. I think I was five when I started. Six when I made my flute teacher cry for the last time."

The table Jaal led her to was laden with an handful of instruments that were unmistakably musical in nature. From it he selected a small, round wooden bowl-shaped thing spread with a myriad of strings and knobs. He pushed it into her hands, as excited as he'd once been about a box of dismembered Kett rifle parts.

"This is a veleh," he said. And, as if he had not just been trying to hand it to her, he pulled it back into his own grip and plucked at the strings with his thumb. It's sound was a little like the tissue-box-and-rubber-band-banjo's she'd once made in kindergarten. Behind Jaal, someone picked up a larger version of the same instrument, and began to play in earnest. Unlike Sara, this angaran clearly knew how to put notes together in pleasant ways.

More angaran arrived for the celebrations as the late morning progressed. Some took up an instrument and played, some sang, others removed themselves to quiet tables to converse. The air of Aya warmed, filled with the sweet scents of the flowers growing in the corners of the courtyard. She and Jaal passed the time with him trying to show her how to play the little veleh, which she began to understand was a child's scaled-down version.

By the time the newly married couple returned, the late morning had transitioned to midday, then afternoon. Only when the sun had begun its descent into early evening, and the courtyard was full of guests, did the true mothers of the newlyweds announced the newlyweds and kick off the real party. The tingly waters and juices that came out then were definitely alcoholic.

"Never thought I'd think of a catholic wedding ceremony as short," Sara quipped, mostly to herself, as the lights came on, even though it was not yet quite dark enough to need them. They glittered prettily against the deepening blue of the sky.

~In some earth cultures, wedding ceremonies last several days, and the celebrations a week or more,~ SAM provided in her mind.

Sara didn't respond as Jaal returned with a pair of glasses for them both, something dark and thick for himself, something pale blue with glittering swirls for her. It was light and sweet and made her head spin in a way that was pleasant rather than nauseating. Some of that spinning might have had something to do with the way Jaal was twirling them both around the tables; there was no dance floor. Dancers leaped and spun and skipped between the tables and chairs, brushing their hands along the shoulders and crests of the seated guests they passed. No one seemed the mind the familiarness of the touches, even though some of them had to come from near strangers.

At Jaal's urging, Sara allowed herself to trail her fingers along the shoulders of a few she passed that she knew. She couldn't quite bring herself to invade a stranger's personal space like that, not just yet. She was rewarded with friendly smiles, encouraging waves. Something warm that had nothing to do with arousal or liquor spread through her.

~Pathfinder,~ SAM said into her mind when she collapsed, laughing and short of breath, into a chair. At a wave of her hand, Jaal kept on dancing. ~Sara. Your omnitool is receiving an urgent message. Several of them, in fact.~

Sara's laughter abated. SAM wouldn't bother her with this unless it was important. Owing to the tradition that only the bride and groom were to don jewelry, Sara had left her omnitool cuff behind in Jaal's room, trusting SAM to relay any important messages. Which, apparently, he was doing.

~From who?~ She asked. To keep from mouthing the words, a habit she fell into when she was tired or inebriated, she picked up another glass of the swirly blue liquor and sipped.

~PeeBee,~ was the reply. ~She is adamant this is something you need to know about, as it involves Protheans.~

Sara frowned into her drink. While everyone back in the Milky Way knew at least a little about Protheans, true experts were less common, and almost none had opted to join the Initiative. Why go somewhere that their life's work would be meaningless? The only person Sara knew of who could be stylized an expert was still in cryo. Sara herself was probably the next best thing, owing to her time spent at digs, guarding them from pirates.

~Tell her that unless something is on fire, broken, bleeding to death, or involves Scott, it can wait until after tonight.~ Sometimes, Sara began to empathize with her unconscious mother. Those times frequently involved PeeBee.

There was a pause, then SAM came back with, ~While I highly doubt she is being truthful, PeeBee claims something is indeed on fire.~

Sara let loose a rough bark of laughter, then sighed, put her drink down, and got up from the table to meander back inside. She tried to spot Jaal to give him some sort of signal, but the bright blue of that garment of his that normally let her find him anywhere was lost in the sea of similar shades of blue worn by other guests.

Inside, Sara retrieved her omnitool, keyed past the wall of alerts from PeeBee demanding her immediate attention, and opened a channel directly to her shiny new science officer (someday Sara would forgive Suvi for leaving, but not today).

"Ryder!" PeeBee exclaimed, her black-smeared eyes taking up the whole of the vidscreen. "There you are! I've been trying to get ahold of you forever!"

"What is it, Peebs?" Sara asked. "I'm kind of in the middle of thoroughly enjoying myself."

The eyes blinked. "But you have clothes on."

Sara snickered. "For now. What is it? I was supposed to be off limits tonight, remember?"

"Ooooooh that's why there was a big 'do not disturb unless it's an emergency' auto reply. Probably shouldn't have ignored those."

"Ya think?" Sara sighed. "Well, I'm here now. Seriously, what is it? And what's on fire?"

The eyebrows above the eyes waggled in a way that told Sara PeeBee was spending too much time with her brother. "Your panties, apparently." She sniggered at her own cleverness, then went on, "No, seriously, this is big. I found a fucking Prothean relic, Ryder! Here, in Andromeda!"

"It was probably stolen from the Nexus during the uprising," Sara said with a tired sigh. Whatever the blue alcohol had been, it apparently burned out of a human system quickly. "Some people brought a few with them, you know."

"Yeeeeah, but those are all accounted for," the asari replied.

"So someone snuck one aboard they weren't supposed to have. You know the Council tracked all Prothean stuff religiously, and with heavy fees."

"Ryder," PeeBee said, and something about the inflection on her name banished some of Sara's partied-all-day weariness. PeeBee had backed away from the camera, enough so Sara could see Zap's tendrils dangling in the background. And also see PeeBee's serious expression. It took a moment to penetrate Sara's fogged mind- PeeBee looked serious. PeeBee.

"What else aren't you saying?" Sara asked.

"Ok, so, don't be mad," PeeBee said in a rush. "But you know that Remnant ruin on Eledaan you told me to leave alone because Morda had dibs on it?"

Sara narrowed her eyes. "The one that she threatened to load with enough booby traps to make a batarian pirate jealous? And the one I said that I'd strap you to the hull during liftoff if you ever went near it? Yeah, I faintly recall that."

PeeBee ducked her head and gave her cheekiest, most winsome smile, and said, "Oh, good, you remember, that saves me the time of reminding you. I might have found my Prothean relic there. You know, inside? As in, sealed up? Behind a door that's really, really, really, really times I-don't-know old?"

Sara blinked.

"Well, shit."

"Yeah. Thought you'd say that. So, see you tomorrow?"

Sara and Jaal had been planning to spend the rest of the week on Aya meeting with the Resistance and perhaps revisiting a certain tropical waterfall.

"Yeah," she said. "See you tomorrow."