I step back, surprised by the sudden shout, coupled with the force of someone throwing themselves at me, hitting me in the face with their shoulder in the process. All I can see is white, somewhat rough cloth.

My arms come up to support whoever is attempting to smother me with their shoulder, and I note that the body of the person is slim and feminine, as are the arms around my neck and the sobbing voice in my ear.

Who is this and why are they hugging me? I feel like I should know.

And I also feel kind of like a dick, for some reason. For some unknown reason, anyway.

Then, the girl pushes off of me, lands on her feet, looking right up into my eyes, and I see that it's the Asari hostage. She has light blue skin, teary dark blue eyes, a black headdress with silver pieces on it, and holy shit, that's Mission.

And then she slaps me right across the face.

It doesn't do much beside make a loud sound that echoes in the alley, and Mission clutches her hand to her chest, obviously in pain.

"Mission?" I manage to get out, still stunned that she's right in front of me and holy fucking shit, how did I forget Mission?!

"We thought you were dead, you jerk!" She yells, turning away, trying to wipe her tears away and being unsuccessful.

A low, disagreeing roar sounds from behind her as the lump of Krogan I saw earlier walks up. And it's Zaalbar, looking just as big threatening as ever. He's about three feet taller than Wrex, no small slouch in the height department, and is still the biggest Krogan I've ever seen.

"Fine, Z, but I thought you were dead!" Mission corrects her statement, scrubbing at her face.

"Mission, why did you think I was I dead?" I ask, my body feeling very heavy for some reason. Probably the weight of my dismay at forgetting the Asari-Krogan duo.

"You vanish suddenly, and no one can find you for months! What did you think would happen?"

I frown, trying to recall those months, specifically if I got any message asking I if was dead. "But, wait, you could've emailed me, or called." I point out, "I don't remember getting any calls from you."

She blanches, as if just remembering that. And by 'as if', I mean, she just now remembering it.

To cover for herself, Mission points a finger in my face, "W-well, you didn't call me, either!"

Now she's just being a teenager. With a point, but still a teenager. "It's was both of our faults, Mish." I say, trying to placate her. "You should've called me and I should've called you. It's just miscommunication, and I'm sorry it affected you so badly."

She sniffles quietly, gently punching my arm. "I'm sorry, too…you big jerk."

I hold out my arms for a hug. "So, am I forgiven?"

Mission smiles a little and wraps her arms around my torso, planting her face in my shoulder. "You still have to make it up to me, though." She mutters, muffled by my armor.

Her child-like infatuation with clubs is probably not going to end well, but she's a very social person. "Alright, we can go to the Flux. But no drinks stronger than a Shirley Temple, got it?"

Mission steps back, grimacing. "You're an ass."

"And you're a teenager." I reply dryly.

She crosses her arms and pouts like teenager, fittingly. "But it's not fair! You and Z get to drink the hard stuff and I get stuck with fizzy drinks! Come on!"

"Zaalbar's a Krogan," I point at the hulking lizard-man for emphasis, "And I could slam a bottle of whisky and be perfectly sober. You, missy, are a lightweight. I remember quite clearly the one time you stole one of my shots and ended up passing out in my lap."

The young asari blushes, slumping. "Saaauul!" She whines, "Not in front of people!"

Oh yeah, I forgot that members of our squad are standing nearby, all looking somewhere between very amused, surprised and confused. Ah, just the way I like it.

"Saul?" Zaira starts, motioning between me and Mish. "You want to introduce us?"

"Right!" I throw my arm around her and give her a single-armed hug. "This is Mission, a peppy, headstrong and stubborn teenage Asari, and one of the best pick-pockets I've ever met. On that note, put my knife back, Mission."

She grumbles a little puts the blade back, muttering 'stingy'.

"And that big fella is Zaalbar, the biggest fucking Krogan I've ever met." Big Z roars a short hello, waving with one massive hand. "He can't speak, so he communicates like that."

He points at his heavily scarred throat, and then steps towards Mission with something dangling from his hand.

"Oh, thanks, Z!" She says thankfully, slipping on her slate-grey vest.

That makes me note that her clothes have changed since I last saw her, ditching her black top for a white, long-sleeved shirt instead and grey pants.

Right, introductions go both ways, buddy. Stay on target!

"Big Z, Little M, this is Commander Zaira Shepard, First Human Spectre and badass." I announce, bowing grandiosely in her direction. "And that's Kaidan. The 'Annoying Jock' type. He's a jackass, kind of rude and all-around kind of dick to just everyone."

Kaidan frowns and protests. "Hey!"

"See what I mean?" I say, shaking my head. "Such a dick. Anyway, the lady next to him is Ashley…she likes guns, poetry and brandy, and I'm pretty sure she might have a cigar collection stashed somewhere. Typical 'Classy Lady' type."

Ashley blushes and pales at the same time, leading to an interesting mix of pale pink and dark pink decorating her face.

"And she is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, the Cute Engineer Type with shotgun skills and a pretty sweet knife." I finish, making Tali scratch the side of her helmet in embarrassment.

"Wow," Mission mutters, looking over the squad members, "Hey, you didn't give Shepard a 'Type'."

Whoops. "Leader Type." I correct myself. "Anyway, Zaira, did you finish what Anderson asked you to do?"

She nods, kicking the leader's corpse, my knife still sticking out of the back of his head. "Yup, all done. We should report back to Anderson."

"Well, you guys should," I say, Tethering my knife and yanking it out the body. "I have to catch up with Z and Mish. You should meet us in the Flux when you're done." I flick the blood from the blade and sheathe it as I speak.

Zaira quirks an eyebrow at me and nods slowly. "Alright. Come on, let's go." She says to the others.

"So, Mission," I start, slinging my arm around her shoulders. "What lead you to be taken hostage by gangsters?"

The young Asari blushes and scratches at her head-fringe in embarrassment. "Well, I wanted to buy a pistol…"

…

"I still want to know how he does that." Kaidan muttered, his arms crossed.

Shepard rolled her eyes, still irritated that one of her team members, who she's worked with for four years, didn't know her first name. It's not like it's hard to find it, it's written right on her dossier! The fact that nearly everyone referred to her as 'Shepard' or 'Commander' irked her something fierce. It was like she was just a rank instead of a person. "If you really want to know, go ask him on the Normandy," She replied.

"I'm still wondering how he seems to know everyone we come across." Ashley interjected. "Seriously, do you not wonder? It's like everyone we come into contact with has met him at some point."

Tali speaks up, wringing her hands. "My cousin dated him."

The humans in the car turn, as one, and give her incredulous looks. "What." Zaira says flatly.

"Er, well, my-my cousin, Kaia'Shal nar Idenna, she works in the Asari Embassy," The young quarian stammers under the attention focused on her, "She used to date him. She said he really got around."

Ashley pondered that information before asking, "Wait, 'got around' socially or sexually?"

Tali scratched at the side of her helmet quickly. "Um, ah, both? Kaia said that he just seemed to meet important people randomly, that he could take a walk and run into a Dalatrass for no apparent reason. And that Saul seemed to have made picking-up one-night stands into an art."

Zaira frowned. "And he did that while they were dating?" She asked, her stomach fluttering for some reason.

"Well…" Tali trailed off, "They weren't really…dating, I guess. They just met up and went to movies and had dinner and…"

She went stiff, stammering a little. "I-I shouldn't be telling you this. I won't say anything else!"

Zaira turned away, frowning at the uneasy feeling twisting in her abdomen. This would be something she'd bring up with Saul later. She wouldn't leap to any conclusions, but she would ask the hard questions, even if the answers weren't the best.

…

"…And then he got a knife to the back of the head, so it's all good!" Mission finishes cheerily, sipping her Shirley Temple.

I sigh and shake my head. "And that's why you always buy retail, Mish. At least you won't get taken hostage."

Zaalbar groaned and tapped the table with his hand. "See? Big Z knows what's up."

Mish sighs and nods slowly. "Yeah, I know. But hey, at least you came back!"

I reach over and pat her on the shoulder. "That's true. But you know I have to leave, right?"

She slumps and leans on my arm, her energy and attitude subdued once more. "Yeah, I know. But we can call each other, right?" She looks up at me, lower lip sticking out and her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"You know that doesn't work on me, right?" I say, dryly. "But, yeah, of course I'll call you guys. I might be out of range a couple times, but I'll let you know."

Mission mumbles in agreement before sitting back up, sipping her drink through a bendy straw, quickly reaching over and snagging one of Zaalbar's chips.

"Hey, Mish, haven't seen you in here in awhile." Some guy says, voice oily.

Turning to look, I see that Mission's face has become twisted in disgust and discomfort. "Don't call me that, Troius!" She says angrily, glaring at the greasy-looking Turian.

"Oh come on, don't be like that, baby!" Troius, apparently, says, slimily. Does this guy ooze this shit naturally, or was he in an accident with a cargo container full of olive oil at one point?

He slides in next to Mission, throwing his arm around her shoulders, only to get shoved out of his seat by the angry young Asari. "Hey, don't push me, Mission. My friends can make a lot of trouble for you and your pet."

Oh. My. Gods. Is there someone like this in every bar? "Dude," I cut across his rant quickly. "Back the fuck up. She obviously doesn't want your attention, so just go away and we won't strip your exo-skeleton off and feed it to you."

He draws up, I guess it's supposed to be impressive? But it just makes him look more like a rooster than he already does. "Do you know who I am?" He asks, imperiously. Or tries to sound imperious, but fails.

I roll my eyes and push my chair back, standing up and facing the Turian. I'm glad to note that I am a little bit taller than he is. Small things matter, you know. "Yeah, do you-"

One of his buddies steps up, and gets put back down from an open-handed slap that rattles his eyeballs. "Don't know, don't care." I comment as I step over the unconscious Turian.

They have exo-skeletons, so the concussive force of a slap affects them more than the pure kinetic energy from, say, a punch.

Troius takes a small step back. "What are you, like, her dad or something?"

I shake my head and jack my thumb at the Krogan behind me. "Nope, but he is."

Zaalbar stands from his chair, towering over the two Turians, and lets out a low, threatening growl.

Both Turians shakily whip out a pair of pistols and point them at us. Are they seriously pulling guns on us in the middle of a club? "Back up! My uncle is-!"

He gets cut off as the manager barks out, "Hey! No guns in my club!"

I reach out a wrap a pair of Tethers around the barrels of their guns and whip them away, stepping up as they stumble forward, gripping them by the neck and lifting both into the air. "And guess what? You're fucked now, boys."

Mission collects the guns off the Turians and hands them to Zaalbar.

"Hey, Rita!" I call out to the manager. "Can you call C-Sec and tell 'em I'm bringing in a few delinquents?"

She nods and taps away at her omni-tool as I turn to Zaalbar. "Z, can you grab the other one?"

He growls in agreement and easily scoops up the unconscious one, gripping him by the face with one hand and dragging him across the floor.

We trot out of the Flux, passing by the squad, missing Wrex and Kaidan, along with a few crew members. "Hey Shepard," I greet her cheerfully, ignoring the fact that I'm holding two Turians up by their throats. "We'll be back in like, ten minutes."

"…Okay?" She replies confusedly.

We get startled and wary look as me, a heavily armored human with a hand-cannon, a knife, and a tube of unknown origin, and Zaalbar, a huge and heavily scarred Krogan, carry a few Turians easily, towards some uncertain purpose.

Stepping into the lift, Z presses the button as Troius tries to kick me in the chest. I reply to that by clenching my fist and electrocuting him (lightly) with my Shockgaunts. "Fried Turian. Isn't that your favorite kind, Big Z?" I ask jokingly.

He growls in reply, staring at the two I'm holding threateningly. "He says he prefers sautéed to fried," I cheerfully translate for them, "Apparently, too much oil makes his stomach hurt. That means we'd have to scrape your greasy ass clean before cooking you."

The oily one goes still in fright, but if he pees on me, I'm going to disintegrate him.

The lift stops and the doors open, allowing four C-Sec officers to step in. "Alright, we're here to take them in for illegal possession of weapons."

I drop the pair as Z hands his over, along with guns. "Thank you. I do need to take your statements, though." The officer mutters, opening his omni-tool. "What happened tonight?"

Zaalbar opens his mouth and tells the whole story with grunts, short roars and growls.

The C-Sec officer just stares at him for a minute before turning to me. "Can you explain that, please?" He asks, pleadingly.

I chuckle. "Sure. We were hanging out at the Flux when those three approached our table and the leader, the greasy one, started making unwanted advances on our lady friend. We took exception to that, exchanged insults, he and his buddy pulled the guns on us, I disarmed them and we took them directly here."

He finishes typing and nods. "Alright, thank you for your cooperation. We'll contact you if anything comes up."

"Alright, have a good evening."

He waves us off and I hit the button to take us back up. "So, Big Z, whatcha been up too, lately?"

"Roooowrgh."

"Really? How'd you do that?"

"Raaar."

"Cool, cool. Did you get paid?"

"Rargh."

"Ah, never stiff a Krogan. How'd you handle that?"

"…"

"I figured, but didn't want assume."

"Rwoor."

"Hey, how old are you, Z?"

"Rrraaaaargh!"

"Sorry! Just wanted to know, is all."

"Rrrglerrg."

I didn't know he was so touchy about his age.

Getting back to the Flux, I spot Zaira standing at the bar with a drink. "Hey, Zaira. Usual, please?" The last part is directed at the bartender. "How you doin'?"

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye before replying, "Fine."

Well, that just won't do. "Is there a problem?" I ask.

Zaira takes a breath and I get my usual drink, Cranberry Club Soda with a splash of vodka. "I heard something interesting about you today." She says shortly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! It's not a fetish, they're just blue women, and I like women!"

Shepard blinks at my sudden outburst. "Er, no, not that."

Whoops. I turn around and see a good chunk of the bar's patrons looking at me, including a wide-eyed Liara. I turn back and take a long drink. "Well, I feel sheepish."

She huffs and shakes her head. "I heard you were dating a quarian. Kaia?"

Wait, what? "How the fuck did you learn that?" I ask incredulously. Seriously, how? And from who?

"Tali is, apparently, her cousin."

Whoa. "Get out of here, really? Small galaxy." I sip my drink before part of her sentence repeats itself.

'you were dating a quarian'

"What do you mean, 'were'? We only kind of dated, and we broke up months ago." I state, looking at her with concern.

Zaira sighs in what seems like relief. "She also said you, and I quote, 'made picking up one-night stands into an art form."

Well, this isn't a conversation I was looking forward to. "Well, it's easy once you know how." I say with shrug. "Look around. See the chick on the other, red cocktail dress?"

She leans out and spots her quickly, nodding. "So?"

"She's looking for a night of funky lovin'." I state easily.

Zaira gives me a strange look. "How do you know that?"

I point at her dress. "Red, the color of passion. High slit up the thigh to show more than a little leg. Deep neck-line. Fruity, brightly-colored drink with high alcohol content. All the signs of someone out looking for a night of 'forget-my-problems-sex'."

"You know those signs really well," She comments, looking at me oddly.

"I could walk over there now, comment on her legs, offer to buy her a drink, chat a bit about her earrings, followed by my reason for being in the bar, and then we'd go to my place for sex." I list out, sipping my drink. "You see how I walk, how I act, how I talk. I'm confident and I know what I can do. It's easy as one, two, three, sex."

Zaira balks. "But, why?"

I sigh and lean on the bar, asking the bartender for a refill. "Zaira, you or I could walk out onto that dance floor and bump and grind for hours, and that wouldn't do a damn thing to kill how lonely we feel inside. I know you pretty well, and I know that you can spend an hour in a crowded room and feel nothing but alone."

I shrug and drink. "So, if I could not be alone for just a night, why wouldn't I take it? Even if it's someone I might not ever see or hear from again, why wouldn't I take them back to my place for a sweaty romp and a sticky cuddle? If it helps, why not?"

She doesn't comment, she just focuses on her drink.

"Though, I do want to tell you something." Zaira looks up at me blankly. "I've met other women like that, as well. Both are very, very busy, so I might see them once or twice a month, less now that I'm with you. I'm actually meeting one of them tonight."

"You're meeting one? Tonight?" She asks, eyes going wide.

"Yup." I sigh. "Listen, Zaira. I like what we have. I like the closeness. When I meet these ladies, I'm providing comfort and warmth and so are they. And it's seriously something they need."

"But, what about us?" Zaira says, hurt in her eyes.

I drain my glass and hand a credit chit to the bartender. "Zaira, I've never been able to watch someone suffer, and I do what I can to help. Whether it's a few harsh words, or a bullet, or a warm body to cling to for a night. Whatever it is. I can see that I'm not helping you right now. So, I'm going to leave. I want you to think about this, about whatever it is we have. I want you to know that I can compartmentalize, I don't feel for them what I feel for you. And whatever decision you come to, I'll abide it. Even if I don't like it."

I step back, her yellow gaze following me. "Good night, Shepard. Just…think about it, okay?"

I pat Mission on the shoulder. "I've got to meet someone, Mish. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

She jumps up and hugs me tightly. "It's good to see you again. Come visit us soon?"

"Count on it." I chuckle, before pointing at Big Z. "Make sure she doesn't sneak somebody's drink, big man. See you later."

He growls in agreement and gives a short wave.

I step out of the Flux and call a sky-car, clambering in and inputting my destination. As the console beeps in confirmation, I lean back. "Jade?"

"…Yeah, Saul?"

I take a deep breath. "You heard what I said, right?" Rhetorical. Of course she did.

"Yes."

"I meant all of it. Not a single lie came out of my mouth. So why…it's just…the first time that it makes me feel like the worst kind of fucking scumbag there is. Do you know why?"

"…No. No, I don't, Saul. I wish I could help you with this." Her voice is soft and strained, sounding on the edge of tears.

I huff in amusement I don't feel. "Jade, you help with so much more, it's not even funny. With this…I don't mind if you can't."

…

Her apartment is empty, as I expected. Being the face of a race is definitely a full-time job, and overtime is expected and, doubtfully, paid for.

Leaving my compressed armor in one corner of the room, I make a light meal. Lightly grilled vegetables and meat, nothing too heavy or rich or spicy.

I set the table, and while the food is cooling, I go around her room placing a lighting a multitude of candles. As I light the last one, I hear the door open, followed by the shuffling of feet.

"Saul? Are you here?" She calls. She knows it's me, but she just wants to be reassured.

I step out of her room, and greet her with a small smile. "Hey, Tevos. I see you finally managed to get away for the night."

Tevos nods and shucks her shoes away uncaringly, slumping over. "Yes, finally. I honestly hate being Tevos, some days. It's so tiring."

I stride over to her and hold her in my arms, supporting her weight as she leans into my shoulder. "Well, you're done being a civil servant for now, so just let me do everything, okay?"

She nods and doesn't resist as I pick her up and carry her to the dinner table, setting her in my lap. I feed her and myself with alternate stabs of the fork, her arms wrapped around my neck and her head resting against my neck and chest. We're close enough that I can feel her jaw move through her cheek as she chews, which is somewhat weird, but not compromising.

The plates are cleared and stored in the sink and I carry Tevos to her room, stripping away her tight, sweaty formal dress and deposit it in a hamper along with her under garments, and my clothes are dropped near the bed, leaving both of us naked.

We come into the bathroom and I turn the shower on, stepping under the warm spray with her supporting herself on my chest. I wash away the day's grime with soft, lingering touches that are only slightly sexual in nature. She moans lightly as I caress her scalp, gently massaging her head crests, her hand threading through my hair.

Clean, we dry off and a I carry her to bed, setting her down on her front and grabbing a bottle of oil. Lathering my hands with slick stuff, I start my massage at her shoulders, going down to her hands and back up, running my fingers over her smooth, occasionally scarred and pitted from combat skin before softly digging in and loosening the knots in the muscle underneath the blue satin.

Tevos groans in appreciation, softly writhing under my hands, especially when I get to her lower back, which is wrought with knots and tense muscle. It takes several minutes, but I manage to relax and soothe her before moving onto her legs.

Once I finish with her back, I carefully turn her upwards and work on the top of her feet, moving up to her thighs and the wet junction in between. My fingers dig into her hips, sliding inward before meeting at her shining lips.

She moans as my slick digits gently stroke over the surface of her lips, providing only a little in terms of stimulation, as was my intent. I leave it behind and move up again, working her defined abdomen into relaxation, and as I finish, I straddle her stomach and work on the area around her breasts before coming to her generous chest proper.

Running my fingers lightly over the surface before gripping a little more tightly and massaging. It doesn't take much to finish them off before I come to her most erogenous zone: her neck.

She moans sinfully as I carefully but firmly dig and twist around her windpipe and under jaw, finishing my task after I massage her cheeks, ears and scalp.

Her light grey eyes slowly slide open to peer up at me. "Saul…" She manages before I bend and press my lips to hers. I slide my tongue through my lips to dance with hers before pulling back. "Please…"

I kiss her again and slide down, gently separating her legs. "As you wish, Tevos. Just relax, and let me do it all."

Her lips are wet and wanting and I slide in with ease, slowly pushing until our hips meet. I hold back a groan and run my hand over her stomach, gently massaging her tense muscles. "Relax, sweetheart. Just relax." I murmur softly.

She bites her lip and slowly relaxes into the silk sheets and I start to move again, carefully, gently pulling my hips back before driving forward, stopping to massage her abdomen when she gets too tense.

I lean forward and capture a nipple with my lips, gently sucking and licking while I push into her core and retreat, only to push in again.

"Saul…" Tevos moans my name, gripping the bed sheets in her hands.

"I'm almost there as well."

Her muscles spasm and flutter over my length and I release inside of her as I kiss her lips. She moans into my mouth, arms around me, tightly holding on as waves of pleasure wash over and through her body.

As it fades, her eyes flutter, the need for sleep very clear in her tired gaze. I roll us over so that she's on top of me and pull the blankets up. "Sleep, Tevos. Rest."

Tevos hums quietly and she rest her head against my neck, falling to sleep quickly. I settle my head into the pillow and peer down at her sleeping face.

Her soft, relaxed features are the last thing I see before I'm set adrift on the currents of sleep.

…

…

…

A/N: Well, that wasn't fun. Going from April Fool's Day's crazy song about mothers and fuckin' to this.

Yay.

Sorry if I'm a little subdued. I just don't like writing scenes of emotional pain, even more so than reading it.

It's the secret to my characterization skills. I empathize with the characters, I feel what they feel when I'm reading. Whenever they're happy and cheerful, I'm in a good mood and occasionally skipping. Their triumphs feel like my triumphs, even if they're not. When they're sad and depressed, so am I. Their mistakes seem to be my mistakes, even if I have not control over it. And when they're in pain, I feel it. Sometimes it's just the feeling of my heart sinking, or occasionally physical pain and sickness.

It's why I don't like reading stories about angst or rape. I feel it, and it sucks.

It's worse when I do it to my characters because I'm the one doing it do them, and I feel guilty knowing I could make it better with a few taps of my keys.

But, I want to interject elements of realism into my stories, even if it makes me feel like scum.

My great-grandpa once said to me, "Jimmy, shit happens. Whether it's good or bad shit, it's doesn't matter, because shit's gonna happen anyway, like it or not. It's how you deal with that shit…that's what matters most. Because that shapes your life, for good or for bad."

His mind was going, and he got my name wrong, but I understood the sentiment.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Maybe you like it so much you tell your friends, and they like it too, huh? Then you feel good 'cause you made them feel good, huh?

Read, Review, and Enjoy.

Stay Awesome.

~Soleneus

P.S.: I'm going to go find a good story or a movie to watch. Depression is a dangerous place for me. Maybe Mulan? It's one of my favorite movies. Mulan lies, cheats, steals and kills for her family and friends, and even when her lies are revealed, she still manages to overcome her challenges with hard work, ingenuity and determination, the best combo there is.

Nothing too sweet, though, ugh. That saccharine shit makes me sick, makes me want hurl…as in, throw up and throw the remote at the TV. Which is bad, because it's an expensive TV, and not mine.

As the father said to his kid after he splattered his dad with poop in a sling-shot, "That shit's not gonna fly, son!"

Stay Awesome Some More.

~still Soleneus