This chapter is not essential to the plot, and runs the risk of being fluffy (okay, it's fluffy.) If you like the story but not the kissy stuff, please skip on ahead: plot development resumes in the next installment. On the other hand, I thought poor Shep and Garrus deserved a little romance, don't you?


Eden Prime had once been a shining example of humanity's ability to push boundaries and expand development to the far reaches of the galaxy. In the aftermath of the geth attacks, the once-thriving colony was reduced to an empty shell. The few surviving colonists were quickly evacuated, haunted by memories of death and destruction, and concerns over a repeat invasion quashed interest in repopulating the idyllic planet. Shepard and Garrus chose to disembark in Paradise, an outpost consisting of little more than a lone research trailer on a secluded beach. White sand and crystal blue ocean stretched out before them, the thick jungle sealing them off from the rest of the world. It was perfect.

They spent the better part of the afternoon emptying the trailer of research clutter and dust, leaving only two single beds pushed together and the small kitchen module. The manual labour was engrossing, the exertion a welcome distraction from the events of the last few weeks. Shepard dug a fire pit on the beach, using twigs and dried foliage to start a small cooking fire. She placed an iron grill atop a few stacked rocks, the primitive stove reminiscent of the implements she'd used among the Sohei monks on Earth. Before long, the smell of caramelizing pineapple wafted up, luring the turian back from his task of clearing debris from the beach. She threw on a few slices of the large red tree fruit native to Eden Prime to round out the meal.

Are you sure this is safe? That does smell good.

You haven't reacted to me, and you can clearly tolerate levo-amino acids. I brought medical supplies, just in case.

The turian darted in among the flames, using a talon to spear a piece of pineapple. He nibbled at it curiously, enjoying the luscious sweetness. Shepard leaned in, licking the juices dripping from his mandible. Wow. Why didn't we do this sooner?

Just wait: this is only the beginning. You haven't even tried ice cream yet.

They finished their snack, Garrus managing to cover himself in sticky fruit juice as he ate greedily. A quick swim was the logical way to clean off, and he stripped off the last of his armour as he dove naked into the surf. Shepard emerged from their dwelling a few minutes later, wearing a bikini and rubbing herself with sunblock.

Come join me! You don't need sun protection: the metal in your skin should reflect the rays.

Right. Her skin still felt human, soft and pliable, but the warm sunlight betrayed her transformation by giving her a distinctive golden sheen.

What on Palaven is that thing for? He was pointing to her bathing suit.

Modesty, and sunburn protection.

That's nowhere near modest, and you don't really need either. Looking around, their only company was a small school of translucent fish. He untied the strings, tossing her swimsuit back onto the shore. Now this is how turians swim. Have I told you how beautiful you look today?

No, come to think of it you haven't. She grinned at him. Bet I can beat you to that rock over there. They raced through the waves, Shepard holding her breath to cover the entire distance underwater, but she was no match for the turian's strength and speed as he passed her in a silvery blur. Damn, he was fast. Garrus never ceased to find ways to impress her. They passed the rest of the evening playing in the ocean, swimming and splashing around until their rumbling bellies made them reluctantly leave the water. Garrus dove underwater and took off, surfacing a few minutes later with a large fish fighting angrily in his grasp. They sat on the beach, eating grilled fish wrapped in palm leaves, watching the kaleidoscope of colours as the sun set on the distant horizon.

You seem unusually quiet, Phoenix.

There's something else that's been bothering me. I haven't even wanted to admit it to myself. You love me, right?

Of course I love you.

You fell in love with me after I gave you my blood on Omega and infected you with Reaper nanites. How… how do you know it wasn't some sort of indoctrination?

Garrus just laughed at her, pulling her in close. That's what you're worried about? You really are impossible. It's one of your more endearing qualities. Think back to how things were between us on the old Normandy. Didn't you ever think it was odd that we could sense each other on the battlefield?

Well, yes. I didn't know you could sense me too, that long ago.

How much do you know about turian mated pairs?

I've done my homework. I know turians bond for life, and that mates are allowed to choose one other. I wish my own species had evolved that far. Human laws forbade unions with alien races, refusing even to recognize human-asari relationships.

Just as well. If I had to ask the Hierarchy's permission to make you my mate we'd have waited a lifetime for approval. My point is, in rare instances telepathy manifests within a mated pair, usually after decades of closeness. I've never heard of a similar occurrence among soldiers, certainly not after only knowing each other a few weeks. I was drawn to you from the moment I met you, even though my turian brain couldn't understand what it meant.

Shepard put her head on his shoulder, a heavy weight lifted from her conscience. They sat silently, enjoying the view until the last rays of the setting sun disappeared, lying back on the sand to watch the stars emerge. Without the glow of cities and starships to obscure them, innumerable tiny lights filled the darkened sky. Shepard felt as though she and Garrus were alone in the universe, drifting just like in her dream. The fire had long since burned down to embers, and the chill of the night breeze brought her back to the present with a shiver. Garrus leaned over, warming her with his body, marveling at how the starlight glinted off her skin as though it was covered in diamond dust. She was changing, adapting to his body as he adapted to hers, and he couldn't be happier.

You said something about ice cream?

I set the machine earlier, while you were clearing the beach. Give me five minutes, then come and join me.

Garrus walked in to find their small room bathed in candlelight, his lover sitting atop blankets on the bed, holding a small bowl cupped in her hand like treasure. She'd found fresh ingredients on Ilium, the unrestricted black market working for once to her advantage. Real vanilla bean ice cream. I haven't had this in years. Dipping her finger into the cold ice cream, she closed her eyes blissfully as she licked it clean. Your turn. As he came near, extending a talon to taste some of the icy sweetness with his own palate, she playfully swiped a little above her collarbone. Oops. He sampled the ice cream, the floral vanilla amplified by the saltiness of the ocean on her skin. Before long they'd found all sorts of interesting applications for the dessert, rushing to finish before it melted completely in the sweltering heat. I thought turians hated the cold, Garrus.

Not… always. Shepard sauntered over to the kitchen module, the flickering glow from the candles dancing enticingly over her curves. She keyed in the command for ice, removing a single cube and holding it delicately between her fingertips. Starting with his thick chest armour, she traced the freezing cold sliver slowly over his body, priming him for the bracing sensation before migrating to the sensitive spaces between the plates of his waist. Before it disappeared completely, she placed the ice on her tongue for a few moments, then knelt down to kiss his fully erect length. The shock of the cold was gradually overtaken by the insistent warmth of her mouth, the stimulation intense and indescribable, stronger each time as she began the process anew.

Garrus' body had become as familiar to her as her own: his spicy masculine scent, his leathery skin and metallic plating, every ridge of his glorious cock. His body was her exact opposite: hard to her soft, rough to her smooth, masculine to her feminine, and it only made her want him more. It was hard to believe they'd made love for the first time such a short while ago, both of them nervous and tentative, cautiously exploring one another before giving in to their desire. Had she known how incredible sex could be, how sensual and beautiful and free he made her feel, she would never have wasted a single moment. Teasing his shaft with her tongue and his fringe with biotics, she wondered what would have happened if instead of breezing past him on the steps of the Citadel Tower on her way to meet the Council, she'd grabbed him by the waist and brought him back to his apartment, ripped off his armour and showed him all the wonderful sensations human lips could give his turian body. They'd never have left the Citadel, never travelled the galaxy together to defeat Saren and Sovereign, and for a moment Shepard wasn't sure she minded. Eavesdropping on her fantasy, Garrus pictured himself as an eager young C-Sec officer being seduced by a lascivious human soldier, howling madly as his lust reached fever pitch.

Several climaxes later, Garrus silently thanked the spirits that neither male turians nor female humans needed time to recharge, and that he'd found a mate with an appetite to match his own. She kept pace with him round for round, bite for scratch, surprising him constantly with new uses for her astonishing flexibility and fervent tongue. Despite her deceptively delicate human flesh, she could handle everything he had to give. It was time to introduce her to an ancient mating ritual, a secretive aspect of turian culture restricted to bonded pairs. Communion, they called it, a term devoid of the religious connotations it held for humans. He asked Shepard if she'd been able to find everything on his shopping list. She nodded her assent, and he rummaged through their supplies until he found the objects of his search, small purple fruit roughly the size and shape of lychees. Peel back the rind, eat the flesh, then suck on the pit until… you'll see. Shepard followed his instructions: the flavour was unexpectedly sour and spicy, her lips puckering to Garrus' amusement. Go on, he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Rolling the pit on her tongue, it began to feel numb and tingly, the sensation spreading to her lips and through her body. The room began to sway gently, pretty colours appearing at the edges of her vision. She felt intoxicated, every sense heightened and excruciatingly vivid. She stared in wonder at her mate: swirls of violet and cobalt blue were encircling him like an aura. Passion and valour, she thought, reaching up to stroke his energy and feeling it pass into her, mingling with her own scarlet and golden hues. Garrus stroked the flames emanating from her copper hair, his talons glowing brightly as her biotics flowed into him, the boundaries between them fading away as they made passionate love until at last they were bound together as one life, one essence, one brilliant burst of pure white light.


Time passed slowly in Paradise, the myriad intricacies of commanding a starship replaced by eating, sleeping, and sex. Knowing this might be the only time they could enjoy a peaceful existence together, they made the most of each precious day. They made love in the shower, a slow sweet grind against the wall, Shepard's thighs resting on the prominences of the turian's hips as the water rinsed off the stickiness of batch after batch of ice cream. They fucked madly on the bed, Garrus' talons shredding the mattress and blankets as he made no effort to tame his urges, taking her hard and fast and furious like a turian female, her marks healing as quickly as he could carve them. They played in the ocean, waves washing over them, underwater weightlessness allowing even greater versatility. Sex on the beach was a given, Garrus' tongue devouring her until she was chafed and raw, burning their supper more than once as they couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough to wait. In between rounds, they cuddled in a hammock Shepard found in a storage trunk, the bed long since reduced to useless scraps of foam and cloth. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd bothered to wear clothing.

Thirteen days passed in a blissful haze: nearly two weeks since they'd seen another living soul and only one day until the Normandy would return, bringing their wonderful escape to a bittersweet end. Shepard and Garrus were dozing in the hammock, taking reprieve from the scorching midday sun, bellies full of fresh fruit. They didn't notice the shade above them growing darker as the shuttle approached.

"Uh, commander? Could you please ask the turian to put some clothes on?"

"Joker! You were supposed to send a message before picking us up." Suddenly aware of her own bare skin, she was grateful for the sarong they'd thrown on as a blanket before falling asleep.

"Do you even know where your omni-tool is? I tried to contact you yesterday: we got worried when we didn't hear back."

"Oh." Garrus stirred beside her, sizing up the situation. "How did the mission go?"

"The team came through for you. We've tracked the source of the Illusive Man's last transmission to a chamber buried deep beneath the Earth. I'll set a course right away."