Garrus pulled her into a tighter embrace for a moment and then relaxed his hold, a new sense of her fragility and not her barriers investing how he thought about her. He'd somehow been too much, not enough and just right in too many ways and too many places to calculate.

She…saw herself as…too much as Shepard and not enough as Cara…and he would not let that be true.

Spirits, how true was it now? How true was her desire to turn back the clock and sidestep him entirely, spare herself the trial of…of a man who never heard no without immediately trying to plot his way around it?

He'd been angry and straining…now he was…now he was scared. She had…no immune system socially…no experience sexually…and no pragmatism domestically. He had forcibly punctured whatever bubble she'd created to protect herself. Her encapsulated, essentially sterile environment escaping, invaded …

He couldn't stop…he knew he couldn't stop…she'd only ever managed to slow him down and now he knew she couldn't even do that.

He moved his hands to either side of her face, thumbs along the curve of her jaw and his other fingers clasped behind her small but significant skull. He was powerful enough to take her life, do anything he wanted with her, his crest moving to her forehead, her colors on his plate, her hair under his hands. He was powerful enough to give her the worlds, but not powerful enough to preserve them. That's what she wanted. As his mother had said, he would change hearts one by one, starting with his own.

He pulled her mouth to his, with her sideways on his lap. He'd give her Reverie and he would talk to her…give her words…and then he would walk away and she would know he could do it. He would try to be her immune system, be her experience, be her pragmatism. Not by knowing best but hopefully by knowing her…Spirits, please…guide me…and let her guide me.

He was too far gone in wanting to kiss her, for better or worse he didn't know. She wouldn't stop him, wanted him…time spent with her lips on his, her fingers along his chest and waist, those were certain things.

He was going to talk because she could not…would not stop him…

He touched his mouth plates to this new woman, old woman, same woman, finally complete woman, shadows and strobing stilled with his eyes closed. He didn't need to see, only to feel. He was cut back to his unyielding instinct and need, sure that the only way to seal the wound was pressure.

He'd claimed her colors like her only priest after she'd died, claimed ownership the moment she was alive and near, his Goddess that no other may approach. Then she'd made it truer than he could have. He tried to pull some shame from himself, but he had none. Only 'YES.'

She was Limayeth when she was a city on a river, unyielding and proud… but now she was Cara. A woman of no land, no allegiance except to him, no home if it wasn't where he was, no family except unassailable memory and what he gave to her.

He held her with the assurance that he would be what she needed, that he glowed. His tongue was on her lips, just her lips, which were closed. He imagined them white-tight with apprehension. He held her face, her life in his hands, gentle glide of the tips of his teeth over her lips, the slide of his mouth plates, practice in kissing her and far too much knowledge, which had been greedily and gleefully gathered, of what made her give way. He tried to intend no conquest, only companionship. Her spine and her breath were tight, almost frightened, suspicious, as he supported her with the press of his elbow on her back.

She was suspicious for such good reasons…he could in fact have this diminutive woman as a virtual slave, invisible collar around her throat whose leash could only be seen by his eyes or held by his hand. She had always been well aware of possibility… and this was even a probability, that he'd grasp her by the throat, pull her mouth to his and invoke whatever words or promise he wished from her, make them true, keep her under. Anything he wanted to ask of her in capitulation… was already true somewhere inside her head. She was afraid of things he hadn't even thought about…yet. The type of resistance required to escape was against her nature and would only be flashing in her eyes with no recourse or defense once he directed his full attention to her.

That…he was going to do that. He was going to have that, if not on Intai'sei, then some later future. It didn't matter if she died, he'd bring her back. It didn't matter if she stayed dead, he'd follow her. It locked in as certainty. Now all that remained was savoring that constant moment of power over her…and then relinquishing it and savoring her power over him. That would be less…satisfying…but she needed it. He needed it because that flash of her eyes and her smile needed a target that was not him, until all her targets fell and only he was left standing.

The invisible leash was an alluring metaphor but he didn't want to strangle either of them with it. He just…really appreciated the leverage.

He'd imagined so many secrets…but none of them had added up and all he'd wanted to do was reassure her that she was his bond mate and his everything. The fact that her secret was that he was potentially her…everything…it didn't get better than that.

He appreciated where he was, moments spent kissing her a continuous blessing, this luxury enjoyed with her incrementally building ardor, her participation as she slowly melted, as her spine bent toward him. Small moments built to her lips parting, her tongue meeting his. Then there was a moment where it was not hers, not his, but theirs, Reverie in the air like wreaths of drugging smoke dragged deep into lungs with panting breath, the truth of devotion like rain sinking into thirsty soil.

Instead of imagining her on her back, eyes closed and breath sharp as he explored her body with his tongue, he was right with her, not racing ahead, not deciding where to go. He would kiss her until she was thoroughly kissed, until Reverie pounded through her, and then he would leave, become him again, let her be herself, and not seek to control her when he left her side.

…yes…that was deciding where to go…okay…but it should be a good place to go.

Spirits, they were all good places to go.

He would try not to seek to control her, but he wouldn't be able to resist the feel of that leash in his hand and tension on the line. Shepard would take care of that, until there was no more need for Shepard and Cara was fully herself, her protective chrysalis shed. He would…protect her…if he had interrupted her sleep, if he had interrupted her metamorphosis, if she would always be exactly as she was right now, if all they had was this kiss…

His body rejected the idea of letting her go as his mind tried to embrace it. His hand moved to shift her until she was straddling him, her thighs as tense as they had been earlier, but this time not strained to press against each other. They were straining to lift her body to reach his mouth as he bent down, her head cradled, her back supported. He drew back the slightest bit, waited to see if she was going to do the same, but instead she shifted on her knees, pressed harder to him, her tongue chasing his. His faith in bond, in her, in him, in them, flooded and twined. His arm tightened around her waist, his hand moved her head to a side tilt. His tongue spiraled around hers and squeezed…and the moan she made breathed and vibrated through him, her scent and sinuous press of her breasts with his sternum blade between them…

Mine.

He pulled back, her mouth trying to follow his, a new surge of power in realization that she wanted him, had for longer than he'd wanted her. He wasn't concerned anymore about Thane, or about her telling Thane anything that would have repercussions, because Thane…was bound to her…and she wouldn't allow any harm to come to her bond mate. Fuck venom, fuck confidences, fuck collusion, it didn't matter. Garrus would let her go, she would take her risks, and she would come back to him. Every time.

He tried to think of words that weren't manipulative and that was impossible with lust-soaked mind, her calves pressed to his thighs and her body sliding along his. He shot for honest. "I'm yours, Cara. We won't be sorry we waited. We…are going to be perfect."

His mouth moved down her throat and encountered the bite marks, his tongue savoring the points. Then he pulled back, bent her head to the side with his hand, applied Medigel to them until they disappeared.

He ran his thumb over the line of her eyebrow, strange texture under his fingerpad, and said "No bullseye. We will do anything for each other, even hide."

Her dazed and dazzled eyes widened and then her mouth was back on his, streaks of bright Reverie shared, and there he stayed happily, joyously, until it occurred to him that he did have to leave.

He could make his point, her point, their point…and the woman who could smile the way she did would understand. He slid a hand up her ribs, circling wide with the curve of his thumb but not touching her breast, moved his mouth to her ear "Cara, love, I have to go. I have to go to work. I've got plans to make." His talon points scratched lightly on her back.

She made a sound of conflicted frustration. More purr than growl.

"You want me to stay, right? Tell me to stay, Cara."

She began to press into his hand, her body sliding down or trying to, her mouth at the side of his throat, teeth edges on his hide and her mindless purr "Stay. Garrus…please…"

Oh…fracture plane…it wasn't…exactly a miscalculation…he wanted that invisible leash pulled tight. He growled into her ear, talon points digging in, with her about to slide her breast into his palm except that she didn't want to lose his mouth at her ear through changing her position. He wouldn't let her if she tried, hand braced on her waist to keep her from doing it.

It should have been harder to say, but with her smile in mind he said in mild shock "How could you? You know I have to go. Trying to keep me from working…shame on you."

She pulled back and up in realization, dazed, meeting his eyes, which held bland mock disapproval of her licentious behavior with such a fine, upstanding citizen. He watched her move the distance to realization to further blushing chagrin, to finer parsing of the moment as her mind tried to feel her way along the curves of his intent, to her smile and then her laugh. She said "You could have just…informed me you understood the proof of concept," her voice was thick and slow, despite herself.

He touched his nose to hers and said "What's the fun in that?"

"Mmm." She rested her head on his shoulder and said "I'll miss you. I'll see you after work."

"One week, Cara. Soon. I'll tell you the dates."

She really had no plans, she was studying the Collector data and without a follow up mission goal at the moment. A week was reasonable. She didn't want to tell him no. "I'll be free."

"We should move the Normandy away from the Citadel, maybe back to the Collector ship, let your crew work from there. You come with me. We'll take a shuttle together."

"Yes sir."

"You're going to be saying that a lot."

"I understand the concept."

He carefully lifted her off his lap, set her back down on the bed where she was mostly boneless and just enough clingy to be gratifying, kissed her as though to wipe the intent that he wanted to leave from her mouth and replace it with the promise of return. He stroked her hair before he pulled himself away because he had to do something important. Sure, work, but vacation. Vacation was important. Having more willpower than she did…so satisfying.

Didn't matter if he cheated. So very satisfying.

He worked his way out of her apartment, back circuitously to his, paused a moment to contact Krios "I have left her apartment. I will be back this evening at 9. I accept the gift of the apartment. It was necessary she have a place to call her own. My gratitude for the gesture that I could not provide for her myself. I would offer to reimburse you but I do not wish to insult you. My compliments to your decorator. The issue of sex will be resolved to our satisfaction, thank you for your bizarre but admittedly fortuitous intervention on several fronts. We have secured my mother's blessing. I have asked for a week of her time, and then I will return her. If you wish to know where, we will be on Intai'sei. I trust you will not place surveillance. She will not require rescue. There will be no need to use venom to arbitrate our relationship. I request you opt out of that method. I need not offer to kill you. I need only suggest…that I could ask her to look at you in slight disappointment, punishment enough. If you make her unhappy in your charade, the execution of which I will attempt to avoid, my response will be renegotiated. Thank you for your assistance, Councilor Vakarian."

It was…a very good day.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Thane received Garrus's transmission, smiled in response. He almost laughed. Several calculated risks not resulting in anybody's death, based on the assessment of the Councilor's honesty and kindness, paid off to Cara's benefit.

She had excellent taste in bond mates. He wished them long years of joy.

He responded "Understood and appreciated. Please enjoy your week."

He considered consulting Irikah's response.

Her voice said slightly bemused 'Why is it that truth is so often not considered in your plans?'

'As long as it results in truth, Ree.'

'Death?'

'Mine only. I would have been at your side sooner.'

'Eternity is long, Tasak. You need not chase or court it so closely.'

'And life is short, and they should not waste it. If you see someone struggling with a problem that has a solution, if they do not see it as a problem, they will not see the solution. Sometimes it is best to take it out of their hands.'

'Should I have taken your problems out of your hands?'

'You…my love…had no solution.'

'Or you did not see it as such.'

'Perhaps I learned from watching you work miracles.'

'Liar.' Her voice was light and sweet and she was as always lovely, his day graced by her presence.

He would strive to be happy for the bonded Fanning couple. Councilor Vakarian was if not good enough, then not necessarily immediately worth killing. As long as Cara remained pleased, Vakarian was safe. Thane hoped that her return from Intai'sei would result in focus, which they would all need.

Thane headed toward her apartment, wondering what or who he would find in the form of a transformed woman. It was not impossible that Vakarian was simply waiting to kill him. Possibly with Orbestan.

He busied himself with consideration of introducing Cara to his son. There was much to do, if he survived the hour or the day.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Russ considered waking up and then considered not doing it, happy where he was, Carig in front of him and…he turned his head slightly…Diryes…behind him. He was not going to move until someone insisted.

Nothing hurt.

Everything was perfect.

Normandy what? Shepard who? He hoped someone had slapped some Medigel on him at some point and he wasn't bleeding. Sheets and mattresses were replaceable and would have to be. It wasn't his apartment anyway. He didn't really remember whose.

Best night ever. Reverie humming heavy and strong he turned his head back, avoided potential fringe injuries, though eyes were also replaceable, maybe he'd go with blue…of course Vakarian blue. He smiled and fell back asleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Cara turned into the bedclothes and bit down, frustration and humor and…and mostly frustration. She'd been up in this room, carried up and down, asked to rest, venom and Reverie and…

And she was tired. Not physically tired, but her brain, usually whirring on intellectual fuel had taken a long fall along what felt like emotional stairs, hitting every single one on the way down.

Whiplash.

Sore.

Disoriented.

Possibly broken.

It was a different kind of tired, and the disorientation made her not have enough energy to talk to the blanket she was biting into to apologize.

She was tired, out of her depth, and the tired was all behind her eyes. She didn't know what to think, what to think about, or how to think.

She remembered deciding she wanted to leave the room. Not that it wasn't beautiful but that she just…hadn't been able to, the odd echo of venom making her want to rest, Garrus making her beg him to stay on command…

Autonomy sounded good. Breakfast. Breakfast would help. She hoped.

Things that previously had solid forms in her life seemed to have all been tossed into a blender and she couldn't find shape, her apprehension of the…puree…of disparate ingredients that should not go together, forced to granulate under pressure and thin blades…

Emotional stair injuries. Morning life wreckage smoothie. Bad analogies. Much to be conquered this morning.

She walked down the stairs on her own power, seemingly a new world than the one she'd left, like a maze she had memorized where all the lines had shifted in her sleep.

She…wanted to go with Garrus, didn't she? She wanted this apartment…didn't she?

Did she have any choice…about any of it?

She had…in fact…asked for this. All of this. Her fault, her responsibility if her life now resembled a puree of durian, vinegar, fish sauce and…and…that was gross enough and…breakfast. Stop with the analogies. Please.

She looked around at the beautiful/menacing/alluring/insidious bribes and gifts and the murky motivations behind them. Her mind moved as it always did to the mission, and that was steadying, in the sense that when she opened the door to it, she was struck by a chill. She closed it again.

So…focus on just the apartment. The kitchen. She reached the kitchen, hands trailing over wood and metal, solid things, beautiful and functional and she knew their purposes. It was less menacing in here, even though she knew it was the most baited…maybe. It probably wasn't smart to be reveling in bait, but the rest of the trap was going to do what it did and at least she could eat. Opening the refrigerator it was fully stocked. Things she would want to try, things she would look up…and a door opened in her mind and the draw was weak, leading nowhere right now…she closed it again.

Later.

Milk she knew. Eggs she knew. Butter she knew. She took down a beautiful copper pan, turned it over a few times for the shine and the luster, set it down on the burner, turned the heat on and let the pan soak it in. Eggs were easy, cracked with one hand, a small pleasure she'd practiced that made her smile. No shell fragments. She moved through the steps of a three-egg omelet, paused before putting the eggs in the pan to heat the milk, make a mug of chocolate. Eggs were done quickly. It was not the best shape and…she didn't care.

She had achieved cooked eggs. Go me.

There was the huge picture window so she went and sat in front of it, cross legged on the floor, eating and sipping slowly, hoping that a simple action that she understood could help her create some order in the chaos. She wanted to touch the glass but didn't, not wanting to leave hand smudges on the perfectly clear surface.

Perfectly clear from the inside, but externally and inherently invested with protections and warding and things she couldn't see.

Okay, so there's a theme to today.

She set the plate aside after not really tasting the last few bites. She'd forgotten salt.

So…bland and transparent. Is that like me?

So many voices lately. Drowning out the ones she'd known. Mom…Dad…what do I do?

Your best.

What is that?

There was silence to that last question. Saoirse and Ronan were not experts at intrigue, Turian bonding or Drell machinations.

She heard in her father's voice 'Remember to salt the eggs.'

She smiled.

Thanks.

She looked out the window, eyes following skycars and catching glints of light. Thane wasn't there and then he was and she jumped.

He smiled and sat down loose limbed next to her, looking out the window as she was "I apologize for startling you."

"It's okay."

"Do you wish for company or solitude?"

"I don't know."

"You are well?"

"I don't know."

"You do not need to know, Cara. I will return in a moment."

He stood and took her plate, took her empty mug, returned in a few minutes with a new mug of chocolate and a cup of tea for him, and they watched the skyline together.

She felt safe. Thane was glowing still, that odd and incongruous effect that she no longer doubted. It had never steered her wrong, which she knew…was a self fulfilling prophecy…but she found that rather than question him about motives, rather than ask him…had he intended for Garrus to bring up sex to her…had he told Garrus because it was easier somehow than convincing her…

He was intelligent enough to do it. So assume that's what he intended, all a bizarre and dovetailing crash that was at least aimed toward…something. Resolution. He sought resolution for her. Tears were there but not enough to spill, and the shock faded because she wanted to say… "Thank you, Thane. What you've done…I don't understand…but this place, your thoughts, your mind…they're all beautiful. Terrifying…and beautiful."

"Thank you, Lasam. You are welcome. I have spoken to Irikah…and she says that what you say is also beautiful. Terrifying to me for my own reasons, as I am not a person of chosen vulnerability such as you. She believes you to be a good influence."

A door opened in her that wasn't cold and wasn't faint and wasn't wrong. "I'm so happy to hear that."

"Kolyat has asked to meet you. He has been inspired in his own way to help as he can. I told him that we could perhaps ask you how he could be of help. I think you would also enjoy his company. Perhaps you could be friends. He and I have had name changes that identify us as father and son. We could all cultivate friendship and companionship. A true relationship can develop where gossip imagines it to be something that it is not. It can be a distraction for us as well, and something enjoyable. With the consideration that you will be at the Councilor's side and have it revealed that you were bonded all along, the story afterward is that I was always close for protection, with his knowledge. I wish to create an illusion and a distraction, not a further problem. You also have had nothing in the way of new clothes other than that provided by Cerberus. I would like to take you shopping."

"I would be happy to meet Kolyat. I'd enjoy that. I don't know how to feel about shopping."

"Perhaps I can assist."

"I…hm. I have a confession. I mostly wear workout clothes…loose things…easy things. Because…that's what my mother wore. Farm clothes, work clothes, no makeup…luxury clothing and makeup weren't available…even if they were, I don't know. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I want to look like her. I do look like her. I don't want to change that."

Thane accessed something on his Omni Tool, brought up a file, indicated that she bring up hers. He transferred it to her and then focused on one image. Her parents. It must have been on Earth. Suit and dress and hair and makeup…and she barely knew them but they were beautiful there also. Thane left that image without comment and then brought up a video clip of her mother in exhibition, hair tied back, no makeup, a face Cara knew well, but had never seen like this. Cara's throat closed except for a small escaping sound of grief and surprise that was choked down. Her mother was younger than Cara was now, and she wanted to stare and replay it. She could. She had it now, recordings made long before she was born.

Thane withdrew his Omni Tool and said "She is beautiful. You are beautiful. Present yourself as you wish. Your mother wore what was appropriate to the moment and brought her beauty with her through all iterations. You will do this as well. I do not wish to make you different than you are, Cara. You will not gain beauty from clothing and that is not my intent. You…do not require improvement. You require an appropriate setting."

She found the file on her Omni Tool, documents and video and pictures, and said a whispered "Thank you…" to the files and to the offer…and she lost herself in Glenn Blake and Carolina Mencin as Thane sipped tea at her side, neither of them speaking.