Prologue

"You may kiss the bride."

I pull Sam into my arms and do just that, and in that moment everyone standing in the CIC disappears into shadow. Every last one of the unnecessary spectators is gone, and for a few short seconds I'm alone with Samantha, my perfect, beautiful Sam.

We stand there in the darkness, my palms draped around her waist, hers resting on my shoulders. She's pulling me closer to her, until the fabric of our dresses are the only things between us. My lips are on hers, savouring her taste, wishing we could stay like this forever.

Even though my eyes are closed I can see us, both of us, standing there as the happiest moment of our lives is slipping away from us. And when it does it all comes back; the harsh lights of the Normandy SR-2, the deafening applause of the crowd. I have to fight back the urge to grab Samantha by her arm and run from this place as fast as I can.

She lets go, takes a step back and smiles in that way that only she can. Tears are welling up in the corners of her eyes and for a second I feel like I'm going to cry too, but I manage to hold it back. Samantha takes my hand and we turn to face the crowd, and I try one last time to convince myself that the only person I've ever wanted to do this with is her, living or dead.

It's like Thane described drell memory to me. I can still remember that moment perfectly, feel her hands on my skin, taste her lips on mine. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and all I can think about is me and her in the darkness. There's only one other memory I can recall so flawlessly.

I remember the rest of the wedding too, but it's mostly a blur. The reception took place on the third deck. Before I knew it Samantha had disappeared into a sea of relatives and friends, so I retreated to the bar, downing flute after flute of expensive champagne to pass the time. It had been Samantha who suggested we have the wedding aboard the Normandy and even though I thought it was a terrible idea I agreed immediately, because Samantha wanted it, and Samantha gets what she wants. I make sure of that.

My side of the guests found me before long, few in numbers since I had a very small circle of friends and the Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard, the only family I had to speak of, had not been heard from since the battle of London. One of them, I forget who, started off by cracking some shitty joke about how wearing black is bad luck for the bride, or something stupid like that. I made a half-hearted attempt at fake laughter before going through the process of greeting them.

Something did need to be said about our dresses though. samantha had picked them out, a matching pair; hers white, mine black. And even though we both looked fucking magnificent in them, I'd never thought I'd be wearing black on my wedding day. Then again, I never even imagined I'd have a wedding day in the first place, so I guess that's not really relevant. Still, the curious glances I kept getting throughout the wedding didn't exactly make me feel comfortable.

My guests consisted of Garrus, Kasumi, Zaeed, Kaidan, Vega and Jack. I was especially thrilled that Kaidan had decided to show, considering how well he'd taken my rejections to his many attempts at reconciliation after our one night stand on the original Normandy. The jealous glare he eyed Samantha with during the wedding had turned out to be a great source of hilarity for me. All other of my former squad-mates had died or gone MIA during the war, or before the war, actually. Joker had been invited too, but he never quite got over that I shut down that AI he was trying to fuck.

I spent the rest of the reception there, drinking and reminiscing about 'the good old times' with the people I called my friends. But as Zaeed bragged about how we'd taken down that Blue Sun's guy (whatever the hell his name was) on Zorya, and when Garrus retold the story of our battle against Saren on the Citadel, I started to question if they actually deserved that title. The reapers were gone, so there was no real reason for me to keep them around, now that I no longer needed them. Did I even have anything in common with these people, other than knowing how to point a gun and shoot? Did I even care about them? Had I ever?

Something about the thought bothered me so I told the bartender to give me something stronger than champagne. By the time the wedding started to near to its end I was hammered. As the last of the guests were leaving, Samantha, who I'd barely seen since the ceremony, came up to me and put her hands around mine. She looked at me and gave a faint, tired smile, somehow even more beautiful than the one she'd given after the kiss, and I was sure I understood everything she was trying to say.

We waited until everyone had gone and we were left to ourselves, before sharing what we agreed would be our last kiss aboard the Normandy. But as we stepped into the elevator to return to the second deck, where I had slipped the ring onto Samantha's finger two hours earlier, and then leave, an idea forced its way into my head, and before I knew it I had pressed the topmost elevator button instead. In the corner of my eye I saw Samantha raise an eyebrow at me and as I realized what I was doing I turned around and gave her a devious smirk.

She understood. "You can't be serious." She was doing her best to sound mad, but her amusement with me shone through her words. I couldn't resist, I kissed her again.

By the time we reached the first deck our hairdos were tussled and our dresses were practically about to slip off. We tumbled out of the elevator still in each other's arms, and into the cabin together.

The giggles that had been escaping our mouths in the elevator died down. Without the furniture, the fish, the ships or the music we'd used to play on the sound system, it didn't feel like the same room we'd spent every night together in during the war. I walked over to the bathroom door, which slid open automatically with a soft hum. One thing hadn't changed.

A melodic laugh rang out from behind me. I turned around and looked at Samantha. "C'mon, take your dress off," I pleaded sweetly. "I'll keep mine on, for old times' sake." It was a dumb line, but I knew she'd like it.

She kept laughing. "There is no way I'm getting in there with you!" she contradicted herself by letting her dress drop to the floor. "Do you remember how much we paid for these dresses?"

I didn't. I began to back into the shower, Samantha following me in her underwear, and let my lower back press against the gauge, sending lukewarm water raining down on us. She danced into my arms and let my lips meet hers. My hands found her hips and hers found my back. And as we stood there, the endless aquatic stream soaking my dress and her skin, I finally believed it was all over, all the pain I'd suffered and all the trials I'd faced…

From there on out it would just be me and Sam. I could finally rest.

A/N: I have no idea how weddings work.