After the long days of confinement to the minimal space on the ship, the cramped hotel room seemed almost too spacious. Empty. Shepard sighed and settled herself on the bed.

They had been stuck on the small outpost of Farside for almost a week now. Nihlus' ship had been retrieved, but the damage was beyond what could be fixed here. Farside didn't get much traffic, and the rescue ship that had picked them up wasn't suited for long-distance travel.

There was a supply-ship scheduled to come in within the next few days, and they could hitch a ride on it back to a bigger port and make their way back to the Citadel from there.

Shepard was content enough with that schedule. Pushing for anything more immediate didn't seem worth the trouble. And she felt she could use a few uneventful days to regain her balance.

She was sure that Saren had seen things differently, of course. He hadn't spoken to any of them for the whole trip back to Farside, and disappeared the moment they had disembarked from the rescue ship.

She had no way of knowing for certain, but odds were that he was already gone. The one crate he had kept locked, the one that supposedly held his private possessions, was gone from storage. The rest was still there, though.

In truth, he had warned them right at the beginning - it was something he'd pretend had never happened, and even if the cold rejection stung, she knew she should have expected it.

It had been a mistake to think that it had been the beginning of something more. She had read it wrong. Maybe on account of species differences. He still was an alien, and maybe there was no way to really understand how he thought. It had been a mistake to let herself become involved in the way she had. There was nothing more to be said about that.

With Nihlus, things were different, though. She knew he was still on the station, but he had been lying low, and they hadn't spoken for days.

He was avoiding her.

That made no sense, none at all. Unlike Saren, Nihlus had never shown any hesitation or awkwardness related to sex. He wasn't shy. Nothing she knew about his off-duty persona could explain this behaviour.

Maybe he was worried about her. She suppressed a snort at the thought. If he was afraid that she'd have expectations beyond what he'd be willing to give on his own, then he didn't know her as well as she had thought. The idea was almost insulting.

She wouldn't pine for something that been imposed upon them by outward circumstances, even if it had seemed perfect. Yes, it had been fun, and more. But it was over and wouldn't happen again. Which was regrettable, but fine. She did, however, want her friend back. There weren't many individuals she'd call friends. Not enough by far that she'd take the loss of one without at least trying.

There was the possibility that it was something cultural, something that made sense to a turian but not to a human. But there had been misunderstandings before, and Nihlus had never made the mistake of automatically assuming that they were always on the same page.

She'd even have understood if he had just kept out of her way, but as far as she could tell he wasn't himself apart from that, either. Under normal circumstances, she would have expected him to hang around in the small bar that made up the whole of entertainment Farside had to offer, putting his moves on the asari serving staff. The asari bartender in particular was his type, or rather, one of the many types he'd gladly go for. But he could rarely be found there.

He seemed to be hiding. She didn't even know where he spent most of his time. Of course she had the means to find out, but if he wanted privacy so badly, there was no point in chasing him.

She sighed. Apparently Saren had been right after all with his gloomy prediction that they were making a mistake.

But she refused to give in to the loneliness and hurt this thought evoked. There was nothing she could do about it. The fault was hers, for acting like a lovelorn teenager. Rejection was a fact of life, and it certainly hadn't happened for the first time; although, granted, never with so little of an explanation. It was unreasonable to be so... emotional about it; so... devastated.

The extranet terminal in the corner was glowing dully. More work. There always was something. She turned to the bed. Maybe she should get some rest instead. It was late already anyway.

She had just stripped down to her underwear when the door chime sounded. "What?" she called, vaguely annoyed.

"It's me," said Nihlus, voice ringing even through an inch of durasteel. "Can I come in?"

She didn't even have to think about it as she unlocked the door.

Nihlus stepped in, and any annoyance that she might have harboured fell away at the sight of him. His head was bowed, in a way she'd never seen before, and she was willing to bet he hadn't been sleeping all that well, either.

"You look like hell," she said on an impulse, trying to fall back to their usual banter. "What's the matter? That bartender resisting your charms?" She knew the tone was all wrong and winced at it, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Dunno. Not interested," he replied absently. "I need to talk to you."

"All right."

There was nowhere else to sit but on her bed. They both sat, and she gave him a sober look.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have just left you on your own without any word."

She shrugged. "I'm an adult," she reminded him dryly. "I'm also a Spectre. I can take care of myself. You don't owe me any explanations. The mission is over, we all go our separate ways, and don't mention any of it again. As agreed."

Nihlus snorted. "Don't go all sensible on me. I hate it when you do that. Makes me feel inadequate." He tried to twist his mandibles into a grin, but it was a far cry from his usual carefree manner.

And she couldn't even be angry with him. "Actually I wasn't certain you weren't angry with me for some reason or another," she said, and there was probably more of her confusion and self-doubt in her voice than there should have been.

He snorted again, as if the suggestion was plainly absurd, but even that was half-hearted. "No. It's my fault. Somehow I forgot that you're human, that you don't automatically know the reasons behind our behaviour. I... needed time to think."

She was willing to bet that it had been a lot more than that. But she remembered suddenly that turians in general tended to withdraw from public and even friends when hurt, much more than the average human would in the same situation. It wasn't to be considered a slight, or even a lack of trust.

On an impulse, she held out her hand, cradling his left mandible. To her surprise, he gave into it, almost as if he'd been waiting for it the whole time.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, voice soft. "I don't know how to do this. Spirits know I can do casual, but I have no clue what to do when something matters. When someone matters."

"What?" She frowned. "You're not making sense."

He sighed, opened his eyes. "I know. Are we still friends?"

"Of course," she answered without thinking. But she meant it.

"Not the right time to ask, but I was wondering whether you wanted to stay around for a while longer, team up for a while. Kick ass together, watch each other's back. You know."

She blinked. This came completely out of the blue. To the best of her knowledge, that was something he didn't do. He sometimes teamed up with her for the duration of a mission, and it was likely that he did the same with Saren occasionally. But he didn't work together with anyone for longer than that. She had never really realised it, but despite his quite sociable nature when off-duty, when working, he preferred to be alone. In that regard he wasn't all that different from Saren, and the similarity made her wince.

"I didn't think I was that good in bed," she said before thinking it through.

He flinched as if she had slapped him. "That's not - oh, fuck. I probably deserved that." He lowered his head, breaking contact. "I wanted to ask you before. When you were appointed. Decided against it. You'd never have taken me seriously if I had asked." His tone was bitter. "Of course, after this, I can't expect you to believe me, either. Hell with it. I'm asking, now." From his tone, she could tell he expected to be shot down.

She lifted his chin, looking in the green eyes that were missing their signature spark of perpetual humour, and found it to be unbearable. He shouldn't have been like that. They shouldn't have been like that. They were supposed to be friends.

Maybe things had gotten a bit too intense back at the ship, maybe the lines had gotten blurred. Maybe they were more than just friends. Or maybe something, or rather someone, was missing for that, but she didn't allow herself to pursue that thought any further. One problem at a time.

Something had broken them up, mixed up and rearranged the pieces, but the real world had intruded before they could fit the pieces together again. The reasons didn't matter. What mattered was to do something about it.

She didn't know what exactly he was offering, only that it was more significant than just a work arrangement. She also knew that she cared for him, deeply, that she always had.

"Nihlus," she said with a sigh of her own. "You really are no good at this."

He gave a growl that was half a laugh and half something else, a bitterness turned at himself. "You know who trained me, and yet you wonder about that?"

She shook her head and swallowed a half-hearted laugh, because this was something she had never considered. "No. It makes sense. It explains everything. And yes. I'm staying if you want me to."

His eyes widened in surprise and before she knew it, she was caught in an impulsive hug, and his voice was rushed. "Spirits. Good. Because I couldn't bear to lose you, too."

She smiled, her face pressed into his collar. Yes, this was more like him. Unguarded, refreshing, endearing. She counted down from ten, slowly and silently. She was at seven when he caught on and gave a pained whimper.

"Oh, fuck. That came out just wrong." He hastily pushed back to look at her. "I - Listen, Shepard, it's not like that. Oh hell, I knew I'd make a mess of this. Please don't take that the wrong way. You're not a replacement, or a substitute -" He caught the way the corner of her mouth was twitching and switched tracks seamlessly. "But it's mean to laugh at me while I'm making a complete idiot of myself." The faked hurt tone was almost convincing, almost enough to mask his real anxiety.

"I learned from the best," she countered, then pulled his head close and leaned her cheek against his. "And I know precisely what you mean. Don't worry." She could feel him relax, and something in her relaxed, too.

He leaned into her, then chuckled softly. "And Shepard - no question about it. You are that good in bed."

She laughed, cuffed his head lightly, and he grumbled something about stupid humans being unable to take a compliment, in a tone that couldn't be taken seriously in any context. They were okay. Or at least they would be.

Maybe she shouldn't have asked and left it alone, but she needed to know, needed to make sense of it. And with things between the two of them approaching normal again, she felt she could risk it.

She leaned back, to be able to see his face again.

"Nihlus, what the hell happened there? What set him off that badly?"

He lowered his head. "I did something I shouldn't have, but... I didn't see that coming. I have no idea why he reacted so extremely."

She shook her head. "I don't understand. I saw that you bit the back of his neck, but..."

Nihlus winced. "Yes. That."

"What's wrong with that? He's been doing it to you all the time, and I take it you liked that. Very much, if I recall correctly." She didn't add that Nihlus had done that to her, too. It was just something she'd taken as some species-specific element of behaviour. Apparently, it meant more than that.

There was a ghost of a smile on his face. "I did. But it's what it implies. It's... it's something the dominant turian will do for their partner. It means that they are safe, that they are free to let go, enjoy, that they need not worry about anything. It's not something that is done casually, and it implies that there's... affection involved."

Shepard frowned. "I still don't see what's so bad about that. And about dominance... not to put too fine a point on it, but I've seen you top him just as often as it was the other way round. Why would he suddenly make a big deal out of that?"

Nihlus threw her a strange look, then shook his head. "I think we mean different things by that term," he finally said. "The role that you take during bedplay doesn't say anything about dominance. Or at least not for a turian." He seemed stunned. "I never noticed. Humans equal that?"

She thought about it, then nodded. "Generally, yes. Though I suppose there are exceptions." She shrugged.

"Damn." He twitched his mandibles into a weak grin. "I've played with a number of humans, but somehow I never realised that." With a bemused shake of head, he continued "Well, it's not like that for us. It means that whoever is dominant is calling the shots, yes, but they are also responsible for their partner's well-being. And satisfaction, if you will." His weak grin faded. "Maybe you didn't notice, but Saren is... my superior. Always has been. It doesn't mean that I will always go along with everything he says, or never defy him or talk back to him, but his opinion has weight for me, and if I don't feel strongly about something I will let him take the lead. I don't do that with anybody else."

She didn't doubt that for one second. Neither did she doubt that Nihlus was fully capable of defying Saren if he wanted to. If he hadn't, she'd never have finished her training with him. Still, she had the feeling she had gotten the concept of rank and dominance in this matter all wrong.

He sighed, sounding as if he was lost in thought. "Saren has high standards, most of all for himself. So... it can be exhausting, in a way. You can have fun, but you never fully relax, never just enjoy. Which is fine in a one-off kind of encounter, if you don't know each other and don't expect to see each other again, if you're just blowing off steam. You know? But I thought that we knew each other well enough to change that dynamic. Let him relax, have the full experience." His tone became very quiet. "I didn't mean any harm by that. I thought he knew. That he trusted me enough to..." His voice trailed off, leaving only the nonverbal sounds of his undertones, which she had never heard him do.

The mix of guilt and sadness in his voice and expression cut at her. He hadn't said it aloud, but she didn't need the additional words to know that it had been a gesture of deep affection and trust, that what it had come down to, at least for Nihlus, had been turning recreational sex into true lovemaking, and Saren had thrown it back into his face in the most callous, most cruel manner possible. And Nihlus was blaming himself for it, which was even worse.

Saren, you damned, cold-hearted bastard. She wished she could at least hate him, but all she could muster up was a pale echo of anger.

She didn't think about it as she hugged him again, and the way he immediately accepted that touch and almost melted into the embrace told her all she needed to know. Insecure. Shaken. Turning to her in an instinctive need for comfort, for stability.

"Maybe it wasn't what you've done. Remember, it wasn't just you. Maybe I touched him wrong. Maybe I did something. I don't know. He shouldn't have lost it that way."

Nihlus gave a single-toned hum, a distinct, clear note of pure sadness. From that alone, she knew she wouldn't be able to convince him that he wasn't to blame in this.

"Still makes no sense to me why he was so angry. Or why he struck at you."

"I don't understand it either." He hesitated. "I don't think he meant to hit me, though. If he'd meant to, for whatever reason, he'd have left scars."

She didn't answer, but she was rather certain that what Saren had done had left scars. Not the visible sort, perhaps, but real nonetheless.

She had been determined to forget this, put it behind her, but even if she could, Nihlus wouldn't. There was only one other option left, then, and that was to track their fellow Spectre down, corner him somewhere and make him explain himself. Or at least tell Nihlus that he hadn't done anything wrong. If the barefaced bastard ended up blaming her for the lot of it, then so be it.

"What do we do about Saren, then?" she asked, and more felt than heard his sigh.

"No idea. I don't even know how he got off this piece of rock, or where he went. Maybe, once he cools down..." His voice trailed off.

"Yes. Definitely." She thought for a moment, then continued in a lighter tone. "We'll see whether he can evade two determined Spectres in the long run."

He chuckled at that, but she noted he didn't disagree.

The sound of the door opening sent them both into sudden, instinctive action, each of them moving into a defensive position. Shepard was still on the bed, the pistol that had been lying within easy reach on the bedside table in hand, while Nihlus crouched against the wall, his own sidearm ready and pointing at the intruder.

Saren gave them a completely flat stare. He took in their appearance, and the tip of one mandible flicked almost imperceptibly, but his voice was as calm as ever as he pointedly ignored the two weapons aimed straight at his face. "If you need a lift, be at the dock in twelve minutes. I will not wait."

With that, he turned away, unhurriedly disappearing in the corridor outside.

Shepard threw Nihlus an almost panicked look. "Twelve minutes? Is he serious?"

He was already halfway out the door, taking off towards his own room. She could hear him swearing all the way down the corridor, but the sick hopelessness was gone from his voice.