Chapter 25: Creatures of the Deep

It's over. We did it.

The cost had been high, but she still had a skeleton crew left to command. Besides, after what they'd found, Shepard would sacrifice it all again in a heartbeat. No more seeker swarms. No more abductions.

No more eerily empty colonies. And never again, would another being be subjected to...living liquefaction. They'd seen to it. They'd stopped it. Surely that was worth the sacrifice.

Samara, Miranda, Zaeed, -she shook her head before Kaiden's name could form itself in her brain. Nope. Not gonna go there. Too late to change it now. Let sleeping dogs lie.

Shepard closed her eyes and forced her brow to smooth itself. No matter what her failings, she'd done her job. Just like the Blitz. So why the hell didn't she feel relieved? Elated? Victorious? Anything half-way good? Instead, just beneath the dull, empty thud pulsing over her body, panic was clawing at the backs of her eyes. And if she paused long enough, it would scratch its way out.

She had to keep moving. Keep working. Focus. There was still so much that needed to be done. If only...if only she wasn't lying on her ass in the med bay. Apparently, if Mordin didn't find a way to prevent it, her heart was set to explode or something. She was literally harboring a ticking time bomb inside her chest.

Fucking of course.

She knew the Illusive Man would have a backup plan. She'd assumed the Normandy had a self-destruct mechanism or something. She had to hand it to him, this was much more cost-effective. Wouldn't it be deliciously ironic to survive the ultimate "suicide mission" only to die at the flip of a switch five minutes afterwards? It's just death. Again. Nothing to see here. Yeah, nothing. I'd be nothing. Free. Free of this...this frigate-sized mantle of responsibility...God, she almost wished good ol' TIM had pressed the motherfucking red button.

Your bravado is pathetic and self-indulgent.

She should quash this train of thought. Now. The collectors were gone. She should try to relax. She'd earned a rest, goddamnit. But this imposed stillness was pushing her over the edge.

She'd stomped this wormy anxiety back into its hole a thousand times before and now it was boring back out again. Only it'd grown into a quadfucking thresher maw overnight and it was burning off all her defenses with insuppressible acid spit.

For fucksake!

She resisted the impulse to sit up and punch something by digging her nails into her palm. Hard.

Mordin noticed her clenched fist, "QEC completely dismantled. No comm buoys this side of Omega 4 Relay. Safe here. Rest now. Miranda sent detailed schematics. Will solve this, Shepard."

Of course he'd noticed. Sighing bitterly, she supposed it was only natural that he'd assume her anxiety was over the Cerberus kill switch cybernetically embedded in her cardiac tissue...and not over the way Kaiden had whimpered as his flesh fell away before her eyes.

Stop thinking. Right now. I fucking mean it.

His first instinct had been to stand watch over Shepard. Between Mordin's little bombshell about Miranda's message and their gripping escape, Garrus would have been content to stand guard and make a good show of not giving a damn about the state of anything. But she hadn't let him get away with that for more than a moment, saying something about not needing a "gargoyle" looming over her and demanding he get his ass in gear.

It was a lot easier to concentrate now that Legion had disassembled the Quantum Entanglement Communicator. There'd be no unwanted signals being sent their way, from Cerberus or anyone else, as long as they stayed on the dark side of the Omega relay. Spirits, if it was even possible to go back through.

Garrus rolled his neck, ignoring the stiff cracking of the plates there. It was times like these that made him damned glad of his military training. The ability to zero in on necessity, to prioritize targets through utter chaos, served him well. And once Garrus had a target in sight, he'd learned to occlude any and all distractions, to act quickly, precisely, and ruthlessly, when the sun was high on your back, or die alone on your perch.

Shepard hadn't made it easy on them by destroying the Collector base and unequivocally telling TIM and Cerberus to go to hell. Now, they were stranded on a crippled starship, in a deadly system with nothing but some vaguely understood "highway" of dark matter protecting them from a black hole. Worse, handicapped as they were, they had little to no resources for repairs and she had made a powerful enemy out of the only organization that might have attempted a rescue.

In the old days, he had admired her unapologetic honesty. As she put it, it was better to "put all your cards on the table." It earned the respect and trust of the people under your command. The people you would have to depend on to follow orders. Now though, he recognized that good command required you to "play 'em close to the chest" more often. Would it really have been so bad, for instance, to have set the radiation pulse, preserving the collector station and all its resources, and appeasing Cerberus, until they could at least assess their status? Garrus understood not wanting to leave reaper tech for the likes of Cerberus, but they could have always double-crossed TIM and just destroyed it later, after they had scavenged for supplies and useful intel. After they had secured a way home.

Well, he interrupted his own tirade a little guiltily, the risk of indoctrination would have been high and you can't blame her for wanting to blast that place out of existence after what we'd found there. But damnit, Jane, sometimes you have to be smarter than your principles.

He shrugged off that line of thought as he ducked under the hanging electrical guts of the ship now exposed at the entrance to the comm room. He supposed it didn't really matter; the base was gone, the collectors destroyed, the dead were dead and the living would have to make the best of what was left.

He snorted at the irony of his resolve. If you had asked him a few cycles ago, he would have dismissed any call of duty beyond counting headshots and having Shepard's six. Oddly enough, now that she was...indisposed, he found the role of command still fit him as perfectly as his busted hardsuit. He had forgotten how satisfying it was to give the orders, to be the one everyone turned to. The fatigue pacing just on the edge of his awareness only helped him focus as he called the crew to order.

Directing his gaze swiftly and deliberately over each being gathered around the ruined conference table, he began, "Well, we made it through hell and back. Again. Not without losses-" Garrus stopped himself by clamping his mandibles over his mouth awkwardly Now wasn't the time for that. Trying for his habitual smart-ass tone, he started again, "Now we just need to find a way home so we can brag about it."

He pulled up the file he and Joker had recently compiled on his omni-tool. It was a silent bid for the others to follow suit seeing as the holo emitter at the center of the conference table had been dismantled along with the QEC. Once everyone seemed tuned in, he went on, "So let's see where we stand. EDI?"

The AI's disembodied voice replied almost immediately. "Yes, Archangel?"

His stance relaxed minutely. "Damn. It's good to hear your voice."

"Thank you. I am glad to be back."

"Status Report."

"In order of crew survival priority: Hull breaches are kinetically sealed, envirosuits in the hangar bay advisable. Life support and environmental systems online and fully functional. Cloaking offline, but preliminary scans indicate no remaining threats in the area. 39 souls onboard. Enough medical and nutritional rations to last 138 Alliance Day Cycles, approximately 146 Palaven days. Reaper IFF and Navigational systems online, venturing outside of the safe zone risks contact with anti-matter. FTL drive down, preliminary scans reveal no magnetic fields available for docking and repair. QEC dismantled, no comm buoys within range. Shield generators functioning at 81%, and weapons systems on-"

Garrus interrupted, "That'll do, EDI. Alright, everyone should have full detailed reports and new duty rosters on their omni-tools. There's a lot to do and limited resources to do it with. Read up before you swarm me with inquiries."

Karin checked Jack's IV again. A 360 body scan confirmed what she suspected. The bullet had ricocheted off the edge of the young woman's left scapula, shattering it in the process. Bone fragments pierced her lung in several areas, but her heart, thankfully, was undamaged. The detoured bullet had then drilled through her lower chest cavity and had lodged in her liver. Jack required surgery, and soon, but medigel had stopped the bleeding and prevented sepsis. She was stable for now.

Karin looked up again and reassessed her domain. Dr. Solus was finishing his examination of Shepard in the far corner nearest the AI core. She didn't envy him his task. The commander looked as though she might lose her rag. Perhaps it would be better for all concerned if the salarian doctor agreed to release her for now. Give them both a little space from it, as Karin's father was wont to say, "A watched pot never boils."

Jacob, too, was stable, and quite fortunate, really. Miranda might have killed him using a biotic slam in such a confined space. Of course she had paid for her rashness with her life… Karin had been too late to save the capable young operative. Despite all that modern medicine could accomplish, one can not revive a ruptured heart after it has stopped beating long enough. Unless of course, Miranda herself was given a few years and a huge budget to work with.

Jacob, thankfully, did not remember the incident. When he had stumbled into the med bay, disoriented and determined to find the commander, Karin had raced through the doors behind him at the sight of Miranda folded over in a pool of her own blood. By the time she returned to check on him, he had disappeared to help the last of the team make their escape.

Head injuries were difficult to predict, but his concussion seemed tractable. He had even managed to rescue Jack and bring her in for treatment before Karin had gotten the opportunity to sedate him. It was uncertain whether his memory loss was temporary, and whether it was due to the injury or to psychological trauma. For now, a mild sedative should help him rest. There was nothing further she could do but watch and wait.

She turned her attention back towards the refugees crowding on and around the extra beds and spilling into the mess hall. They stood with sunken shoulders, like inert husks. Aside from malnourishment and the physical effects of extreme stress, they were uninjured. Well, not accounting for the treatment many of them would most certainly require for PTSD at some point, herself included.

Lord, it felt as though her heart and mind would never be sorted. Everything was a bloody mess flooded with both shock and relief. Though she mentally observed that she was safe, aboard her ship, in her element, that the ordeal was over; in her heart, Karin doubted if she could ever return to the safe assurance her life of discipline and service had once given her. If it weren't for these merciful distractions of habit, for the need of her skills, she would most likely have been swallowed up by the terrifying hopelessness she had just lived through.

Shepard tried to quell the raging hostility flooding her chest. Fucking Mordin, with his unflappable demeanor and his obnoxious enthusiasm. Or Jacob, with his itchy trigger-finger. And Miranda, the icy Cerberus apologist, who, lacking the permission to install a control chip, had come up with a brilliant alternative for the Illusive Man.

She wasn't sure what enraged her more, that Miranda had devised a kill switch for her and never bothered to warn her, or that the young woman had made herself a casualty of her own detached efficiency. Too determined never to ask for help, never to need anyone much less communicate openly, Miranda had died without fully realizing just how much more there was to her than her genetic enhancements and her steely superiority complex. And the stupid ice-douche might have gotten her killed too, Shepard supposed she should thank Jacob. It looked like she'd been wrong to consider Miranda a friend.

She brusquely palmed her cabin door open and stormed into her quarters only to be stopped dead in her tracks by a predatory set of gleaming black eyes.

"Thane, I thought that you'd-"

He cut her words off with an urgent kiss. His mouth painfully claimed hers in heavy contrast to the tender kisses she had received when last they left this room. She returned the gesture with vehemence, the violence of it jarring her from her rage, allowing herself instead, to succumb to a potent sense of relief at being back in his arms again.

Shepard felt his need to affirm their survival instinctively. After everything they'd just endured, she needed to feel his presence as desperately as he needed hers. Her head spun with it and she was mercifully spared any further cohesive thought. Distracted by the growing familiarity of the exotic taste of his mouth, she was barely aware of deft hands removing her padded undersuit and his own battle leathers.

Their lips only parted long enough for him to lay her down on the bed, his knee pushing her legs apart at once. Her heart released a euphoric burst of joy as he immediately pressed himself deeply inside of her, the blue glow of the aquarium behind him casting an almost tangible shroud around him. She arched her back to grant him smoother access to her body, his lips trailing between her breasts before he arched back himself.

"You belong with me," he growled, sending shivers down her body.

She nodded, her awareness swimming between the ecstasy his body provided her and the illuminating blue glow encompassing him.

"Say it!" His voice was raw and demanding, his bodily possession of her, more insistent.

"I belong with you," she relented. With hot tears of relief trailing towards her ears, she added, "I'm yours, Thane."

{그다음에}

"You're mine."

Thane lowered himself protectively over his siha, balancing himself on his elbows. His arms wove underneath the tense muscles of her back, gathering her closer as his fingers dug roughly into the flesh of her shoulders . He felt her clinging tightly to him in turn, as the rhythmic motions of his body increased their frantic pace. Through some unnameable drive, his body sought to meld her, body and soul, to himself through sheer force of will. With each desperate thrust, he felt a ringing throb of satisfaction deep within his soul from the effort.

Her climax was abrupt. The shuddering intensity of it brought him quickly to his own peak. And as the last of his spent energy lulled into a slower, more deliberate joining of their bodies, he rumbled in her ear, "And I belong to you, Siha" before collapsing on top of her, dizzy and tingling, and nearing unconsciousness.

Always.

Shepard's senses were reeling. Her equilibrium shot by swaying as though she were on a ship at sea. Logically, she understood that she wasn't actually moving just now, nor was he, but the rolling and tossing, like waves, the directionlessness, overwhelmed her in the end. She couldn't tell which way was up. Still clinging to Thane with her eyes clamped shut, she shuddered, panicking, and woke him.

"Siha?" He raised himself up only to succumb to a racking cough. She allowed him to roll away from her as it showed no sign of stopping.

"Thane?" She forced herself to open her eyes. The blue glow of the empty aquarium still had that eerie tangible quality, but some of the motion sickness abated as her sight returned some sense of direction to her. She laid a hand on his back and felt the wheezing hiccups between coughs. "I'll call Dr. Chakwas."

"No. Wait...just give...another minute...please," he sputtered. The coughing was losing its intensity, and he seemed to be breathing a sight easier already.

She set her jaw as she lay beside his prone form, hands firmly laid upon his back to anchor herself against the swaying sensation and, hopefully, to lend some comfort. The sound of his wheezing as the coughing abated, sharpened her discomfort, but she resolved to wait as he had asked.

At any rate, with the walls and floor constantly weaving and rolling around her, she doubted she'd be able stand, much less get dressed and call Chakwas. All of the surface edges seemed to shine eerily with blue light, pulsing in rhythm to the other strange sensations. Maybe she was the one who needed some medical attention.

Oh, of course.

Shepard relaxed a little with the recognition of why her senses were so screwed up; she had forgotten Mordin's meds. He had warned her that Thane's natural toxins could have a euphoric or even hallucinogenic effect if ingested. This could be remedied easily enough if she managed to make her way to her private console, where the bottle of pills rested.

But Thane's shallow, rasping breaths could not be so readily attended to...

[그다음에]

Thane was grateful that Shepard had said no more and only lay quietly beside him, her warm hands providing moral succor.

This attack had been particularly bad; his lungs seizing painfully, spots dancing before his vision, tingling limbs demanding more oxygen. His head had ached with each cough when he rolled away from her, ashamed that he could not see to her when she needed him. Ashamed to know that his physical vulnerability might cause her pain. Yet there was little else he could do but gasp as his body was finally gave in to the abuse it had so recently taken from the battle. The physical strain had been compounded by the anxiety that had built up to the fierce, unrelenting love-making that had followed.

This coughing spell, bad as it was, was passing more quickly than he had expected and he realized that the air here was drier than he remembered.

"Shepard? You have changed the environmental settings in your chambers."

"Hmmm? Yes I wanted to make it…" her lips made exaggerated movements as she spoke, "more comfortable. I want Thane to know he is welcome here." Her voice drifted into a softer, distant tone, "Strange. I rather like the waters now. The waves are so soooooothing and..."

Gods, she was hallucinating! How could he have been so thoughtless?

He rose from the bed. "Where are they? Where are the pills?"

Her answering smile was utterly beautiful. "Are you reading my mind? My console….The bottle is up there. Could you? I can't seem to..." She giggled at her own predicament.

Thane swiftly retrieved the bottle and a glass of water. He considered contacting Dr. Solus, but the salarian doctor had already assured him that there should be no real danger to her and that any effects would diminish over time as her body's chemistry adjusted to his own. The medication simply helped her keep her wits about her during the adjustment period.

However, this was only her second exposure, and clearly she had remembered the medication the first time. He watched her closely as she swallowed the pills. Her pupils were fully dilated -the lovely coloring of her eyes obscured and almost completely black now. And though she was smiling, she was clearly unable to focus on anything specific. Her eyebrows rose and fell in endless wonder as her eyes wandered about the room. It was unnerving, but he concluded that she would ultimately appreciate it if he spared her a visit from the smug salarian in this case. Thane resolved to be vigilant and wait it out.

"Do you know long before these take effect?" he asked her.

She burst out laughing. "You look like a sea creature in all of this blueness!" She reached up to stroke his cheek and smiled again. "You're so beautiful. I wonder if this is what a merman feels like? Y'know, minus the legs of course." She brought her hand to her lips, her body lilting to one side, "Whoa. Maybe I'd better cool it for now."

He cradled her in his arms as she laid back down. Then she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply with a sweet smile gracing her lips. She drifted off to sleep, leaving Thane to wonder what a merman was.