Their arrival at Eden Prime went unnoticed by the Cerberus ships already in the system. Joker lingered over the planets night side while Cortez shuttled the Commander, Liara and James to the dig site.

Catherine was amazed that after what had happened there before anyone on Eden Prime would keep digging for Prothean ruins. It had brought nothing but trouble last time, though on second thought if it hadn't been for the beacon the Reapers would have returned regardless and they'd have had no warning whatsoever.

Many on the crew had expected Shepard to return them to the Citadel where Mordin could work on a cure in a real lab with better equipment and where Eve could recover peacefully. But as the marines had quickly pointed out, there were a lot of people in the galaxy who didn't want this cure to happen and would go to great lengths to stop it. The krogan and salarian were safer aboard the Normandy.

Catherine had woken just before they exited their last FTL jump to find James in the process of gearing up. She lay under the heavy leather coat he'd put over her and watched him climb into the tight black body suit that went under his armour.

For the first time she noticed that he had more tattoos on his back, matching the ones on his front. He had fewer scars on his torso, presumably because him armour protected him, but they were still there, etched into him haphazardly like a child's erratic drawing.

Otherwise he was a rich, bronzy brown. Velvety smooth like granite wrapped in silk. But it wasn't due to any special effort on his part. It was the pristine skin of youth. It was hard to believe that such a strong and experienced a man was so young.

Shepard was only a few years older, but somehow James still being in his twenties made him seem that much younger. Slowly but surely he was revealing little nuggets of information about his past and she ached for what he had endured through the course of his life.

Catherine's dad might be dead, but she'd take that any day to having a junkie for a father. James hadn't gone into details, but she'd heard the tone before, from others who'd endured what he had. He'd been abused, mentally, emotionally, and physically. More so the first two which Catherine knew could be more damaging, but somehow he'd crawled out of it to be a kind man who genuinely cared about the people around him.

But he wasn't entirely whole. He took his anger and frustrations out on himself, taking insane risks and pushing his body to its very limits. She wondered what kind of man he would be if his mother had been alive to raise him. Clearly his uncle had been a positive influence in his life, but that wasn't the same as the love and encouragement of a parent.

Her study of him was broken when the alarm on her omnitool chimed telling her that she had half an hour until her shift started. James turned at the sound and gave her a winning smile.

"Sleep alright?" he asked.

She stretched out on the cot, muscles tensing and resisting the sudden movement. "Yeah, I don't pity you quite so much anymore. This cot isn't half bad."

"Since you're up you can give me a hand with this."

Catherine stood, stretched again, then crouched down beside the open crate containing his armour. To her surprise it held only one suit. The blue plating took up the entire interior and she wondered how all of it would fit on his body.

"What do you need my help with?" she looked up at him, trying to keep her eyes from the rigid muscles of his thighs.

"This set's easier to put on if someone holds the back plate in place while I strap on the front. I can do it alone, but like I said, since you're here..."

He leaned over the pulled the blue chest plate with its stylized fox head out one handed and held it up in front of himself.

Catherine reached in and tried to lift the back plate. It was a lot heavier than she expected and she struggled with it, bracing it against her own chest to hold in place against his back.

"James, this weighs a freakin' ton," she said through gritted teeth. "How do you even move wearing this?"

"Well, I don't do a lot of sprinting," he joked. "And if we have to fight more Cerberus troops I gotta wear what'll keep their toys from punching a hole through me. I have heavier stuff, but-"

"You have heavier armour than this?" Catherine let her tired arms drop to her side and stared at him in disbelief.

"Sure," he said with an easy shrug. "It's all suited for different battlegrounds. I'd only wear the really heavy stuff if we were dropping in somewhere really hot. That stuff can withstand close calls with aerial bombardments and artillery strikes."

"What makes you think there won't be those things here?"

"Cause Cerberus wants whatever's down there and they aren't likely going to risk it by blowing the place to bits."

"I'm glad I have you to explain this stuff." Catherine gave her head a shake and reached down to pass him his blue and white striped shoulder guards.

Piece by piece she handed him his armour; greaves, gauntlets, thigh plates, gloves, boots. She marvelled at how much it all weighed and was even more impressed by his ability to carry it all with such ease. He was as at home in his armour as she was in her own skin.

Hours later, as she sat at her station in the CIC she thought back to that morning in the shuttle bay and hoped that his armour would be enough protection. James was rapidly becoming very important to her and she didn't know what she would do without him there.

It felt strange to acknowledge it, but she was glad she wasn't developing stronger feelings for him. Somehow she was managing to maintain what she thought was impossible. A friendship that went beyond the intangible and was something physical as well.

Their intimacy seemed to be an extension of the natural rapport between them. When she kissed him it felt good, but it didn't go deeper than that. There wasn't the same up swell of emotion that accompanied sex with someone you love, where the pleasure came as much from the physical contact as the knowledge that the person with you loved you as much as you loved them.

She hoped James continued to feel the same way. It was impossible to image him meaning anything more to her, and she didn't want to break his heart with rejection. So far, all seemed to be going well.

Shepard and her squad were on the planet surface for hours. Catherine was done her shift by the time EDI announced the shuttles imminent return and Catherine wanted to go down to the shuttle bay to meet James, knowing he would need to blow off some steam and wanted to release it with him.

But EDI stopped the elevator at the crew deck and told her that for the time being the lower decks would not be available to her. She assured Catherine that the mission had been a success and the squad had returned unharmed. Still, Catherine lingered near the lift hoping that James would come up for a shower.

It was doubtful that he'd had much sleep considering she'd slept on his cot, and all she wanted was to see with her own eyes that he was in one piece.

She was pacing between the elevator and the memorial wall when Morgan emerged from the crew quarters. Catherine didn't see her until Morgan whispered at her from a few feet away.

"Oh my god, Cat. You are completely infatuated with the man."

Catherine stopped pacing at stared at Morgan for a moment before she said, "There is a big difference between infatuation and concern."

"He's alright, isn't he?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, EDI says they're all fine. I just want to see it for myself." She leaned back against the wall and sighed deeply. "He helps me sleep, Morgan. That's really all this is."

"It's not a big jump from that to more." Morgan leaned her shoulder against the wall beside Catherine. "Would it really be so bad?"

"No, it's not that," Catherine said, searching for a way to put the feeling into words. "He's a sweet and caring man. I just don't feel that way about him. At all."

"Really?" Morgan scrunched her face up at Catherine.

"Really."

"Wow, never thought you'd go for the fuck buddy thing."

"It's more than that," Catherine said with a frown. "I think. I don't know, Morgan. It works and it helps. I'm not going to question it."

"I could be a bitch and demand to know why my friendship isn't enough, but I'm not about to provide you with orgasms so I will just take your word for it that he's what you need."

Morgan gave her a comforting smile and a pat on the shoulder and then dragged her away from the elevator and into the lounge. She poured them drinks and then forced Catherine to sit down at the games table and dealt them a hand of cribbage.

She skilfully kept Catherine's mind occupied until it was time for her to resume her post in the CIC. Two of the marines, Bethany and Sarah, who guarded the entrance to the conference and war rooms joined Catherine and the game turned to poker.

Not long after, more drinks were added and bets were made. Catherine was terrible at poker and relied purely on luck, but luck was on her side and within an hour she'd cleaned the other two women of all their credits.

They left making sarcastic and nasty remarks, but smiling all the same and challenging Catherine to a rematch the next time their off duty hours synched up.

Catherine was left alone in the lounge and she tried desperately to hold onto her good mood. Feeling the need for some music she tilted back the hood of the mood chair by the bar and lay down, pulling the dome and its holographic screen down over her head.

Her own extensive music collect had been left behind on Earth, but EDI's archives held a reasonable variety and browsing through it Catherine was pleased to find several of her favourites.

She selected a synth band called Faunts from nearly two centuries back and turned the volume up as loud as her ears could bear and then turned it up some more. The liquid lights in the dome pulsed, morphed and swirled with the beat of the music. The moody, submissive melodies were hypnotic. Their music spoke to Catherine on another level; a place of dreams and ethereal oceans filled with the vibrant texture of sound.

Tempos rose and fell, merging and separating, a barely perceptible dance of harmonies and strains. One minute a song was slow and trance inducing, bringing to mind lush green forests and gentle winds. The next it was roaring like a plummeting cascade, a whirling cyclone of notes that though discordant and harsh alone, were a symphony of euphoria combined.

Catherine lost herself in the music, allowing it invade her and take her someplace else for a short time. The ancient music held no taint of the current trauma of the galaxy. The people who'd written it so long ago had never heard the name Reaper and knew nothing of the fate that awaited their species.

When a hand suddenly ran up the inside of her leg she jumped and tried to sit up, hitting her head on the inside of the dome with a resounding crack.

"Son of a bitch," she swore violently.

She rubbed the top of her head and hissed through clenched teeth. The top rolled back and James' not so apologetic face looked down at her.

"Sorry, Catnip." He grinned at her. "Didn't mean to spook ya."

She shut the music off and swung her legs down on either side of the permanently reclined chair. James took her hand from her head and parted her hair to look at her scalp.

"Well, you didn't crack it open," he said. "Guess you've got a thick skull, just like me."

"You seem cheery," she said, rubbing her head again, sure there was a bump rising.

"Killed me a whole bunch of Cerberus troops." He flopped down on the couch and pull his booted feet up on the low table. "Felt pretty damn good."

"Killing them felt good?" Catherine felt unsure of her affection for the first and only time in that moment.

"They were killing off the colonists," he said, his good spirits fading. "Those they didn't kidnap. Besides, they aren't men any more. They're filled with Reaper tech and only a step up from Husks."

"Sorry, Jimmy," Catherine said softly. "I didn't mean to judge. I'm just not used to all this yet. The battles and the killing."

She sank down onto the couch beside him and he reached over and pulled her legs over his lap so she was sitting sideways. Leaning into the back of the couch she studied his face. Despite his entrance he seemed distressed, disturbed, like he needed a distraction.

"How did you end up in the Alliance anyway, Catnip?" he asked.

"It's a long story."

"Tell me anyway," he said, slouching into the couch and closing his eyes.

"Okay." Catherine folded her arms against her chest and shifted, getting comfortable. "I started out in horticulture way back when. Lots of money in growing things for those rich enough to have the space for a real garden. And I was really good at it. Eventually, I got into agriculture. I was head hunted by a company in Vancouver. That's how I ended up in the west."

"Where did you grow up?" James didn't open his eyes as he spoke.

"Ontario mostly," she said. "Up north where the sprawl never quite hit, but we travelled a lot when I was a kid. Did all of North America before I was ten and even lived in Spain and Israel for a while in my teens. Anyway, I started working in greenhouses. It was hard work filtering out all the filth in our atmosphere and I got pretty good at it."

"How did that get you into the Alliance?" James asked.

"Head hunted again," she said. "The Alliance was looking for life support trainees. Not a lot of difference between keeping plants alive and keeping people alive. I wasn't going to join at first, but then I realized it might be my ticket out. I'd always dreamed of seeing other planets and serving on a ship seemed the best way to do it."

She went on to tell James about her first three months and how much she'd hated it. Raw recruits, no matter what they were destined for, always went through boot camp. She hadn't been out of shape, but she hadn't been an athlete either. The forced marches and drills had worn her down to the bone and she'd almost washed out.

But she'd endured and made it through by the skin of her teeth and gone on to apprentice an older woman who'd seen service in the First Contact War with the turians. The woman had had a grudging respect for aliens and instilled in Catherine a sense of wonder about other species and a desire to learn about their cultures.

"It was Specialist McGill who eventually got me a place serving in the shipyards in Vancouver," Catherine said, seeing the slightly overweight, grey haired war veteran in her mind's eye. "I'm pretty sure it was also her who brought me to Anderson's attention."

"Anderson always did have an eye for talent," James said.

Catherine went on. "After the Battle of the Citadel, the Alliance started work on several more Normandy class ships. Ever hear about the SSV Sagan?"

James opened his eyes and looked at her, his brow wrinkling as he tried to recall if he'd heard the name before.

"I don't think so."

"Doesn't surprise me," Catherine said. "She never got off the ground. Ended up being a huge debacle. Sagan was designed for first contact missions. She had the most widely adaptable life support system ever installed on a human vessel. The asari caught wind of it and made the Alliance shut the project down."

"Isn't this all confidential," James questioned.

"It was never made public, but anyone who visited the ship yards knew about it," Catherine explained. "Anderson was one of those people. When he was given a seat on the Council he did a tour of Alliance facilities on Earth. He was impressed by my work on the Sagan and gave me his personal email address and told me to contact him if I ever needed anything. I wrote to him the next day and told him what an honour it had been to meet him and that I hoped to one day serve under an officer like him. He must have looked into my file because the next day I was suddenly accepted into the courses I needed to qualify for service aboard a ship."

"But I thought you'd never served before now?" James asked.

"I haven't, but Anderson was grooming me for it," Catherine said, remembering the email she'd received from the Admiral requesting to be part of the retrofit team on the Normandy.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, Catnip." He patted her roughly on the leg and then pulled her up onto his lap. "What makes you so good at what you do?"

She curled into him and his arms tightened around her.

"I don't just go by the numbers," she said. "I go by feel."

James tucked his hand between her legs.

"By feel, eh?" His voice was low and his eyes half closed. "What else do you do by feel?"

Catherine sat up and moved until she straddled him. She put her hands against his chest, feeling how tense the muscles were.

"Lots of things," she said softly. "Like I can feel the stress in you. Your muscles are solid, but they aren't this hard. Not when you should be relaxed."

"Tough day," he said, and reached behind her head with one hand and pulled her forward. "You ready for round three?"

In answer she closed the gap between them and kissed him deeply. Unlike the first two times they'd been together, this time was slower and more sensual. Neither of them felt the same sense of urgency and they savoured each other, allowing hands to wander and caress, lips to linger and entice.

It was no less intense, but their clothes stayed on much longer and when James finally started to tug at the bottom of her shirt she pulled away.

"EDI, what are the chances of you locking that door for about twenty minutes?"

"Only twenty minutes, Catherine?" EDI's voice was sly and Catherine wondered not for the first time if EDI watched them because she saw every area of the ship anyway or because she enjoyed it.

Catherine blushed and James mouth came down on her neck to track the progress of the colour creeping along her skin.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," EDI continued. "But the lounge is a public area of the ship. I cannot lock the doors to other members of the crew."

"Want to risk it, Catnip?" James' voice was muffled against the bare skin he'd revealed by unzipping her shirt to her belly button.

"Not really," she said in annoyance. "EDI, what if I were to accidentally disable the door? How long would it take you to discover the problem and repair it?"

"Long enough," was EDI's reply, and Catherine jumped off James' lap and bolted for the door.

The panel beside the door came loose easily. Catherine activated her omnitool and crashed the doors security system. EDI's voice was heard above them. Her voice was distinctly amused.

"Alert: Lock down in effect. Maintenance required. Attempting repair."

James was already on his feet behind Catherine. As long as no one came to the door and discovered the malfunction, the door would remain locked. He clearly did not want to waste a moment.

Her shirt came up over her head still partly zipped and James' skilled fingers easily unsnapped her bra, letting if fall to the floor. She gasped as his hands came around to cup her breasts and he went down on his knees behind her to lick and kiss his way up her spine.

He stopped when he reached the centre of her back and gave a particularly long and sucking kiss to one spot.

"You've got a tattoo," he said with interest. "What's the symbol?"

The mark was tiny, barely more than the size of the nail on her pinkie finger. It was done in a shade very close to her own skin tone and took a keen eye to spot.

"It's an ankh. It's Egyptian."

"I like it," James said, and continued his way up her spine.

When he reached her neck, Catherine turned in his arms and decided to take control. It was his turn to be pampered and spoiled. His turn to have the stress and anxiety washed away. He'd done enough for her already.

She gave him a little shove towards the couch and continued to push until he toppled backwards onto the cushions. Locking eyes with him she used her toes to pry her shoes off one at a time, then hooked her thumbs in her pants and wiggled. Stepping out of them she lowered herself down to straddle him again, sitting back on his knees, her entire body completely exposed, and began undoing his huge belt.

He ran his hand up and down her thigh a few times, his calluses scraping and scratching at her baby soft skin. When she had his belt undone and his pants unzipped she stood in front of him, his face only inches from her hips and told him to take of his pants.

With fire in his eyes he pressed his back into the couch and lifted his hips to yank his pants away. When they were gone, Catherine slowly lowered herself back down to where he slouched. His enormous cock lay heavy and full on his abdomen. She brought herself down directly atop in and rubbed herself along the length.

James groaned and dug his fingers into her hips, creating bruises that would show up later. Catherine continued to move until they were wet and sticky with her juices and then she lifted up just enough that she could reach a hand down between them.

She gripped him and held him upright, letting him sink slowly into her. The pressure of it was intense. Sitting over him like this he suddenly seemed twice as large. She pulled her hand away and braced both palms on his shoulders, looking down and focusing on the tattoos on his chest.

It took a full five minutes before she was ready for more vigorous movement and James let her take the lead entirely. She rode him, slowly at first, but gaining speed with each swaying motion. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her, moaning into the hollow of her throat as she pushed her hips forward, allowing him the deepest entrance she could.

"Turn around, Catnip." His voice was throaty and she obeyed.

She lifted herself until just the tip of him remained and then she thrust down one last time before standing up again and turn to face him.

He was on his feet in a second and her by the waist. He slid around behind her and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"I need it hard and fast now, Catnip. Bend over."

Her heart skipped a beat and she bent at the waist, putting her hands onto the cushions that still held the heat of their bodies. James grabbed her by the hips and eased himself into her once again. Catherine felt her legs go weak but his hold on her kept her in place as he began to move.

The pure animalism of the position brought out cries and guttural moans Catherine had never made before. James stabbed with his hips, reaching deep inside her with each thrust, grunting with the effort and digging his fingers deeper into her flesh.

Suddenly, a wave of pleasure like Catherine had never felt exploded out from within her and she bore down on him, pushing her hips back and arching her spine. Her body gripped his as he reached his climax and his seed burst out of him, dripping down the inside of her leg and onto the floor.

He pulled out of her and she collapsed onto the couch, curling into a ball and riding the wave of ecstasy still coursing through her.

"I feel better," he said and gave her a little slap on her bare ass.

He went behind the bar and found a cloth which he soaked with water and tossed to her after wiping himself off. The cloth was cold and felt wonderful against the heat between her legs. She would need a shower for sure, but at least now she could put her clothes back on.

She got up and gave the couch a wipe down and then mopped up the drips on the floor. James came up behind her and pressed himself against her where she bent over.

"You are something else, Catnip," he said.

She stood and faced him. "I'd just like to make one thing clear for my own conscience more than anything else. I've never had a friend with benefits before."

"Me neither," James admitted. "I've had girlfriends and one night stands and even some fuck buddies, but this is something new."

"So fuck buddies are different from friends with benefits," she said triumphantly.

James stepped closer and put one arm around her, lifting her hand with other and kissing her palm. "Sure they are. Fuck buddies just fuck. They have a good time and then go their separate ways."

"I guess we are more than that, aren't we," Catherine said, lying her hand on his cheek. "I'm glad."

James answered her with a yawn that showed her the view right back to his dangling tonsils and she burst out laughing. She gave his a rough pat on the chest and kissed him on the neck.

"Go get some sleep, Jimmy."

EDI's voice came on the intercom just then. "Twenty minutes is long up, Catherine. I suggest you get dressed."

"How long has it been?" Catherine asked.

"'Bout forty-five," Joker said and Catherine pressed herself against James, trying to hide the pilot's view of her nakedness.

"Oh my god, I hate you so much, Jeff," she shouted.

"We're you spying on us, you little gimp," James said harshly, but Catherine could tell he was laughing.

"Never!" Joker sounded offended. "Now get dressed so EDI can fix the door before the system automatically generates a report to maintenance."

With that possibility looming over their heads they tugged their closed back on and exited the room. As they left Catherine heard the air vents switch on and silently thanked EDI. Hopefully there would be no evidence of their little tryst.

James was already gone from the deck when Catherine left the shower. She didn't really want to be around anyone else so she climbed into a sleep pod and began to drift off, her body beaten, sore and tired once again. As sleep took her she thought of something and opened a comm channel inside the pod.

"EDI, is James asleep?"

The AI took a moment to respond. "Yes, Catherine, he is."

"Good," Catherine said sleepily. "Good."