The few times Samantha had managed to steal Shepard all to herself prior to the final assault, she'd noticed that as good as the sex had been, it had always been overshadowed by the feeling of an inevitable end, a desperation to make every second count because this could be the last chance; love prompted by the need to distract themselves from the feeling of impending doom and fear of death.

It hadn't been until Shepard's recovery after defeating the reapers that Samantha had had a chance to experience making love to Shepard without those unpleasant thoughts nagging at her like white noise in the background. It had made all the difference. But now, it felt like that again. Shepard was there and at the same time she wasn't.

"Shepard," Samantha whispered and tucked her fingers into Shepard's hair, balling her hand into a loose fist, tugging on Shepard gently to get her to raise her head from the spot between Samantha's neck and shoulder that she'd been trailing her lips along.

"What?" she frowned at the interruption.
"Where are you?" Samantha asked quietly and moved her hand to cup Shepard's cheek.

"I'm right here," Shepard replied, not understanding the question. Samantha shook her head a little.
"No, you're not."

Shepard rolled to lay on her back next to Samantha and raised her arm, resting it over her eyes, exhaling deeply.

"She's alive, isn't she?" Samantha asked, and she didn't need to elaborate and explain who she was referring to. Shepard nodded slightly.

"And you know where she is," Samantha said, rising to rest her weight on her forearm, turning to face Shepard who was still hiding underneath her arm. Another nod.

"You should go meet her," Samantha continued. She knew Shepard had already considered it and had probably been planning on doing it, but Samantha also knew Shepard was likely to dilly-dally about that too unless she'd mention it and act like she'd put the idea in Shepard's head.

"You think so?" Shepard asked, finally turning to look at her and Samantha smiled. It seemed her delicate manipulation was working.

"It's clear you need answers and closure, and she can provide you with both, why wouldn't you go see her?" Samantha reasoned. She got another smirk from Shepard, that confident tiny rise in the corner of her mouth which somehow managed to soften Shepard's entire features despite its subtlety.

"Well, for one, I'm certain that she'll try to shoot me on sight. And if not, it's like I said, I don't think she'd talk to me," Shepard said.
"You won't know if you don't try. And I for one have no intention of listening to whine and watch you brood over what ifs if you never ask her and she dies before you get a chance," Samantha rolled her eyes at Shepard.

"Would you stop knowing me so well?" Shepard said huskily and moved toward Samantha, settling her hips between Samantha's thighs and leaning over her.
"I can try once you stop being such an open book; I'm a very avid reader when it comes to you," Samantha smiled and sunk her fingers into Shepard's hair, gripping it once more. She loved doing that, Shepard's hair was ridiculously soft. And furthermore, she knew Shepard loved it when she did that.

"I love you, Sam," Shepard whispered. She leaned down and pressed her lips on to Samantha's lightly and gently at first, then deepening the kiss, quickly turning it into a passionate one Samantha was more than happy to let herself be drawn into.

Whiskey used Admiral as a stepping stone to be able to jump onto the bed, a routine the two dogs apparently had worked on and did on a regular basis nowadays. Shepard was actually glad the little monsters had learned to do it that way; previously, Whiskey had remained by the bed, whimpering and jumping restlessly until Shepard or Samantha gave in and picked him up.

"No. Mine," Shepard said sternly and turned to the side as if to shield her slice of pizza. Whiskey didn't move, simply sat at the foot of the bed and stared at her until she gave in and threw the remaining piece to the dog who caught it into his mouth. It was mostly crust anyway.

"So, why did you run away?" Samantha asked, and Shepard straightened up a little, mentally telling Whiskey to chew faster before Samantha would notice she'd given him food.
"Excuse me?"

"From Mother's house. Why did you run away?" Samantha elaborated and got in bed as well. They'd ended up spending the entire day in bed after the conversation they'd had in the morning, aside from Samantha walking the dogs while Shepard had gone to grab them a couple of pizzas for dinner. She wouldn't have minded having more days like this.

"I mean, I can see why being a drug dealer probably wasn't your dream job but considering the alternative of living on the streets, I don't quite understand why you ran way," Samantha said.
"Actually, my plan was to continue as an independent drug dealer after running away from Mother, but I didn't realize that no one would work with me, Mother had a reputation which pretty much guaranteed her monopoly."

"Oh?"
"I don't know if all the stories were true, but it doesn't matter, what matters is that people believed them. I never saw her do things like that… but I know exactly how volatile she could be, so I'm not ruling anything out."

"Tell me," Samantha requested and arranged her pillows into a supportive pile behind her back. Shepard exhaled deeply, not really wanting to recall those stories now that she was considering going back to meet the woman who would undoubtedly be happy to subject Shepard to all the things if given half the chance.

"Well, it's just pretty much the kind of stuff you see if you do a quick search on popular torture methods. My point is, you wanted to be on her good side."
"Yes, and you obviously knew this and knew how to stay on her good side, which still makes me wonder why you ran away?" Samantha repeated her original question.

"Like I said, she was volatile. Being constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting a mean punch to the liver for it was just different kind of torture," Shepard muttered.

It had taken a lot of her to finally run away. One does not simply leave an abusive relationship, often not even if they have the means to do so easily. How do you leave someone who has shattered your very core and made you believe that they are the only one who would ever love you?

Shepard had been like a mistreated dog, always returning to Lilith like that dog returns to its abuser because it doesn't understand that it is going to get hurt no matter how good it tries to be. A dog that doesn't understand that the person abusing it will never love it back.

"Things like that… leave you feeling kind of worthless and when you feel like that, it's very easy to stop caring about yourself. Once you stop caring, what else is there?" Shepard shrugged one shoulder.

Samantha scooted closer to her and pressed herself against Shepard, moving to rest her head on Shepard's chest and wrapped her arm around Shepard's midsection.

"Is that why you're always so eager to volunteer for suicide missions? You don't care about yourself? Or you feel like you need to prove you are worth something?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know, I don't think about things like that or go looking for a deeper meaning, I do what I do because I think it's what I need to do," Shepard said and nuzzled the top of Samantha's head softly.

"Maybe you should think about it all," Samantha said and tightened her hold on Shepard.
"I'd rather not, thinking gives me a headache. I'm more an action-oriented kind of a gal," Shepard said and caressed Samantha's shoulder with her fingertips, the movements slow and her touch light, but not tickling.

"I'm serious."
"So am I. I'd rather deal with a Ryncol-hangover than thinky-pains," Shepard said, and Samantha chuckled.

"All I'm saying is it could be worth the thinky-pains. You—" she was saying but Shepard, determined to not let her continue this conversation, tucked her fingers underneath Samantha's chin and gently urged her to look up so that she could lean over and press her lips onto Samantha's, effectively silencing her with a kiss.

Samantha had learned long a go that this was Shepard's way of basically telling her to drop the subject. It certainly beat being rudely told to shut up.

"I'll think about thinking about it," Shepard smiled into the kiss and Samantha took that as a win.