Outside the VIP room of Afterlife, Samara felt a twinge of anxiety for the first time in centuries. Shepard had graciously agreed to lure her daughter out of hiding, placing herself in mortal danger. Although she hadn't said as much, Samara was unsure she'd be able to vanquish the Ardat-Yakshi in a one-on-one battle. For eons she'd prepared herself for this moment, meditating and honing her combat skills. She had to be victorious, to cleanse the universe of the monster she'd created. Glancing over at the turian, she was surprised to find him reclining against the wall of the corridor as they waited for Morinth to take the bait.

"Officer Vakarian. You and Shepard are close, are you not?"

"Yes, we are."

"You seem unusually calm. Your species normally does not respond well when those they care about are threatened."

Garrus chuckled softly. "You haven't known Shepard very long. I'd be more worried about your daughter."

"Morinth is a powerful Ardat-Yakshi, quite possibly the most dangerous predator in the galaxy."

"Shepard is… Shepard. This should be fun." The turian was obviously blinded by hero worship, Samara thought. She hoped his foolishness wouldn't interfere with her mission.

Inside the club, Shepard had once again turned into Fox. She wore the same outfit as the other night, a lifetime ago when she and Garrus were just friends having drinks together. Fox's girlish laughter and womanly movements came more naturally to her now. She'd even enjoyed turning heads aboard the Normandy when she emerged from the elevator looking like a goddess. She wandered through Afterlife, being her seductively persuasive self, wondering how long it would take Morinth to notice her. Music beckoned her to the dance floor: she lost herself in the moment, dancing sensually to the pounding beat. It didn't take long until Samara's daughter sought her out, winding her body in tune with Shepard's and whispering in her ear about obscure artists and the lure of power. Ugh.

Back in Morinth's apartment, Shepard pretended to be interested in her companion's conversation, keeping her talking as long as she could. The asari reminded her of a few smarmy men she knew in the Alliance, entitled rich kids with an appetite for power. Morinth poured on the oily charm, willing Shepard to relinquish herself, wanting to add the famous hero to her impressive trophy collection. She leaned in, her eyes a darkened hypnotic void, ready to capture her prize.

"Sorry, you're not my type."

"What?" Seizing the opportunity, Samara burst in on her stunned daughter and was soon locked in a deadly standoff. She focused all her energy and will, but her vicious little girl had grown too strong to overpower. Suddenly, she felt her inner strength intensify, breaking the Ardat-Yakshi's attack. With one swift blow, she brought lasting peace to her daughter and herself. Samara was shocked: two presences had supported her, a male and a female.

You're welcome, said Garrus.

How is this possible? Neither of you are asari.

We're not entirely sure. I told you, Shepard is Shepard. Morinth never had a chance.

Thank you, my love. Samara, perhaps you could help us to understand our bond, once the mission is complete?

I have never encountered such manifestations outside my own species, Shepard. I will certainly help you in any way I can.


The following week passed in a blur of activity: Shepard and Garrus roamed the galaxy, tying up the crew's remaining loose ends and making final preparations for the jump through the Omega-4 relay. Their nights were every bit as busy, wanting to make the most of every waking moment before the suicide mission. Their daily tribulations diminished by the happy glow of love, they reveled in every new experience as they explored the possibilities of human-turian pairing. This particular evening, Garrus Vakarian was receiving a rather lengthy tutorial on the versatility of the human tongue. Once he'd come to terms with the daunting prospect of teeth near his nether region, he was astonished to discover a whole host of sensations heretofore unimaginable. During rare moments of sanity, he wondered whether she'd ever stop surprising him. Confirming his hypothesis, Shepard didn't let him push her away as he exploded in ecstasy, ignoring his pleas for mercy and using her infernal appendage to elicit endless aftershocks of pleasure.

Spirits, woman. I think I just died. If your species used this as a weapon, the Relay 314 incident would never have escalated into war. We'd all have surrendered unconditionally.

I'm just getting started. Ever heard of tantra? Biotics are supposed to be particularly talented…

Ancestors help me. I would have been safer with a nice krogan girl. I wonder if Wrex knows anyone who's into turians?

She leapt up, pinning his arms and locking her knees against his sides. No way. I'm not letting you get away that easily. Laughing, they wrestled on her bed until Garrus found himself prone atop his mate.

I win.

Yes, you do. In a display of flexibility impossible for his own species, she brought her knees out to either side, tossing her hair and arching her back to give him an unobstructed view of… spirits. Unable to hold back, he sank his teeth into her back and claimed his beloved. Did it really count as dominance when she invited him so irresistibly? Garrus decided he didn't care.

Breathless and momentarily sated, they lay entangled in each other's arms. He gently traced the edges of Shepard's fresh wounds, already healing before his eyes.

Phoenix?

Yes?

I've been thinking about something. Just because I can't leave marks on you doesn't mean you shouldn't mark me.

It's possible I already have. Sensing his confusion, Shepard showed him her memory of finding him after the gunship attack. Her grief and desperation were heartbreaking. No, look. He felt her make the cut, spilling her regenerative blood onto his wounds, slowing his bleeding and saving his life. Stroking him affectionately, Shepard loosened the bandage covering Garrus' injured side. The plates underneath had lost their clan markings, but were otherwise completely healed.

Fascinating. You've marked me by unmarking me.

I've always been unconventional, Garrus. Don't get me wrong, you looked damn handsome with those scars, too. I wonder whether your new tissue is levo or dextro amino?

If I can ever look at Mordin with a straight face again, I'll ask him to check me out. Running his talons through her hair, he pondered the implications of his mate's revelation. He'd felt stronger and more energetic since being rescued by Shepard, but had attributed his vigour to her presence. He reached up to touch his regrown plates: they certainly felt like a turian's. She truly was astonishing, he thought, daring to hope he'd survive the suicide mission after all.


Exhausted and relieved, Garrus threw himself into his work repairing the ship's engines with Tali. The Normandy had been badly damaged during their attack on the Collector base, but Shepard had once again managed to achieve the impossible. All of the crew had been recovered, and none of the squad had been lost. His own role was considerable, leading the second strike team and fighting alongside his mate in the final battle against the human Reaper. He shuddered at the horror of their discovery, grateful for Shepard's decision. Their decision. He was proud of her for how she'd handled the Illusive Man, his callous words still fresh in Garrus' mind.

"This is your last chance to be true to your own kind, Shepard. Don't think I don't know what you've been up to with that turian."

"You think I'd trust you with a Reaper factory? I'm going to blow this base into oblivion. And if you ever disrespect my mate again, I'm coming for you next."

"Wait. Don't be reckless. I have information, Shepard. Don't you want to know where you came from, what you are?"

She'd motioned for Garrus to cut the comm link. Not if it means betraying who I am to find out. Asshole.