Venri

by Recidiva

Shakarian fiction, explicit, angst, fluff, smut, snark. Check out dochielle on Tumblr for links to fan art, a song by Chiara Keating and rendered models by DiscoverySystem for Morim and Garrus. Narrated on YouTube under the name Recidiva Quixotic. Morim Shepard art done by KuriaUmmei on Deviantart.

35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Timeline: Fifteen months after the Crucible

Garrus

The Sol relay had been repaired, the rings retrieved and refitted. Due to unknown functionality on the other side of the relays, drones were sent through before personnel were sent through. Drones intended for Tuchanka and Thessia had failed, but would be retried once a week. Drones had gone through to Palaven's system and to Rannoch.

Rebuilding was happening on Palaven and on Rannoch and information from the Turians and Quarians brought a massive inrush of excitement and hope.

Tali had heard from Kal and she was going to head back to be with him. He'd been homesteading on Rannoch. She'd retake her official position as Admiral, return in command of her own ship, part of the Quarian fleet that had been stranded on Earth. She had promised to bring Legion back to Rannoch, Morim and Garrus had promised to visit. They would create a memorial to him.

EDI had progressed far enough on her own that Tali felt she could leave the rest to Joker. EDI wasn't entirely back to herself, but she was walking, talking, making bad jokes, slowly assimilating and recovering herself.

Kal had informed Tali that yes, the Geth had powered down and some ships had been lost, but Quarians had all been self-contained in their suits with mechanical backups active. That had saved their lives long enough to get back up and running quickly. Some of the Geth had been restarted and restoration was taking place. The Geth were restoring themselves much as EDI was. They'd relied on some of them that had been powered down entirely during the burst and were more easily restarted than others. Crops were growing.

Morim had been thrilled. Tali had been thrilled. Garrus had been thrilled to see them thrilled.

It was possible to make direct jumps and to send communication. His father and Solona were alive, and on Palaven, aiding in the reconstruction. He hadn't been able to speak to them directly, but he would be able to soon. They were out right now traveling, with spotty communication and most comm lines right now being used only for official business.

Thank you Spirits for witnessing my need. I will see them again.

Victus had asked for a meeting and Garrus had obliged. What surprised him was having Victus and Morim walk in together.

Morim had walked to Garrus, beaming. She'd been so happy since the relay had opened and good news had been coming in. She'd kissed him until she'd reluctantly pulled away. She didn't sit at her desk; she sat facing him, next to Victus and across from him.

Victus and Morim had looked at each other and she'd gestured for Victus to proceed. Victus had said "Palaven is rebuilding and there are many of us who are anxious to return, including me. Some wish to remain here for now, people who have new families here, new lives. I've been speaking to Morim and she asked me to make you an offer."

Garrus had looked at Morim with a raised brow, but she'd said nothing.

Victus continued "In consideration of the political state on Palaven at the moment through the conferences I have been able to have, Primarch Accalia is doing an exemplary job. I know her, I trust her, and I do not wish to disrupt her efforts through any level of power struggle. There is need for a rebuilding of the army's structure, and I will happily be there for that. Once upon Palaven's soil I will revert back to being General Victus. I am relieved, really. I do not wish to continue a political career if someone else has it well in hand. That said, I am in charge here until our remaining fleet returns to Palaven. The fleet will be returning in a few days. Enough ships are able to travel to transport all those who wish to go and it will be a short jump from one system to the other. We need to be prepared and bring whatever coordinated supplies are needed on the other side, begin to restore trade with Earth. A ship has been transferred to your personal ownership. She's small, fast transport, just recently and extravagantly installed with a stealth system like the one on the Normandy." He spared a smile for Morim and then looked back at Garrus. "I believe you know her former crew, she's the Moonset." Garrus nodded briefly. Stealth system? Victus continued "Small enough to be manned by two people, space for ten and generous cargo space. If you choose not to return to Palaven the ship will remain with you here so that you can return at any time without escort safely."

Garrus looked at Morim, who was still smiling and her face was transformed with that expression. He had to smile himself. He looked back at Victus.

Victus continued "In coordination with Admiral Hackett and the new civilian government on Earth, as well as with Palaven's new command structure, one of my last acts as Primarch here will be to offer you a position as Ambassador to Earth. Morim has been offered by Earth's government the corresponding title, Ambassador to Palaven. In this I am certain there are no better candidates and Primarch Accalia is in agreement. The jobs can be done from Earth or Palaven, with communication now opened up." His voice became softer and more personal and he said "I do hope that you accept and that you both return with us. Forgive this seeming conspiracy, Morim didn't want to…" He looked at her and asked "What was it…get his hopes hot?"

She said "Didn't want to get his hopes up. Now all our hopes are up."

Victus smiled and said "Indeed they are. I'll leave you discuss it. Please, Garrus, consider this offer. Let me know soon."

Garrus stood and said "Thank you, Primarch Victus. It is a generous and kind offer and I will let you know once we have made a decision."

Victus smiled and bowed and left. Once the door had closed, Morim had stepped around the desk and sat on his lap. His arms closed around her and questions and answers swirled through his head. She leaned in and kissed him, her hands on his throat, moving to his fringe and Kinril, warm and distracting. She moved her mouth to his ear and said "Say yes."

He started to laugh and said "Wait. Wait. That is cheating. There needs to be a discussion."

She nipped at the side of his throat and said "No, there doesn't need to be a discussion. Say yes."

He ran his hands through her hair and along the slender curve along the back of her neck. Was he really going to ask her questions now? With her going to so much trouble to surprise him, demanding an answer and interrupting him when he tried to insist? She was doing this for him. She wanted him to know she had no doubts worth mentioning and he should have no questions that would add up to a no.

Say yes.

He took her face between his hands, drank in the hope in her eyes and the smile on her face and said "Yes" and then kissed her until they were both breathless.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Shepard

There was a lot to do, but not too much. Everything would get done before they left in two days.

Her main concern was about bras, really. How many spares did she need for just the trip? It was easier on Earth. She might need to have consignments sent over. Her clothing was probably their greatest household expense. They could afford it, but it was a tad extravagant with other people possibly struggling for basics. Maybe she'd have to hire a full-time seamstress or seamstrer? Seamstrer? Tailor. Maybe she should just stop wearing them.

That being her biggest problem was very telling about how easy her life had been lately.

She'd donated her model ship collection, fish and Boo to the London Jack Academy. There were several more Academies under construction and even more planned. Other than the funding, the Academies didn't need her day to day. Her training had not been in education or child care, though she was an enthusiastic amateur. She had needed them day to day. Seeing children had drawn her out of herself and brought to her the simple but profound pleasures of doing what she'd wanted to do when she'd joined the Alliance; provide people with food and water and shelter and love. The work during the day had helped repair her inner equilibrium, brought her into the present. The Academies would always have funding. She and Garrus were ridiculously wealthy by any standards, even having given away quite a bit of what they had for the rebuilding effort. There were also many donors for her project, which had quickly turned into projects around the world with generous funding.

Kasumi tended to Robin Hood and piggy back on her causes, anonymous funds simply showing up. Kasumi never arrived in person, but she did keep in touch in her way. Kasumi had some rule system about what footage or interview about Morim could stay and what had to go. Diana's interviews remained whole, but otherwise there was very little footage and fewer questions, asked more politely.

Morim held off on adoption and hadn't discussed children with Garrus except in the most general terms. She was certain if she wanted 47 children, all Krogan, he would blanch a bit and then start researching cradles. He was a brave man. He wanted her to be happy and if children were part of that, he was there for that also. She believed he hadn't thought about children for himself, at least not yet. Turian life spans were such that children weren't usually considered until bonded and in the 50s or 60s. She'd hoped to return to Palaven and it would be unfair to transplant a human child there. She wasn't sure at this point that she would adopt. Palaven had no orphans. If parents were lost, a child was not an orphan, but "clan gift." All children of clan members were taken in and raised by extended family. To do otherwise was so deep of a disgrace that it never happened. Part of it historically came from the competitiveness between clans and the need for population growth. Being able to point to a neglected child in a rival clan would lead to that child's welfare taken up by a tribunal system and possibly taken from home clan and given to the challenging clan who could promise resources for the child's upbringing. Military service began at 15, children were valuable. The Tribunal challenge no longer happened, but the tradition was ingrained as part of clan power and pride.

Shepard Clan may pass into history in a hundred years. That might be best. She wasn't sure she wanted to put that burden on a child, Turian or human, and she didn't know if biological children would become possible during her lifetime. If it did, she might rethink it. She'd definitely rethink it. Right now, though, she still felt the danger of being who she was, requiring heavy security for survival and a Turian bond mate to get restful sleep. She was well aware any child of theirs would be a target. A target of violence, a target of political intrigue, a pawn for access to power. Might as well paint a bullseye on their forehead at delivery. Before delivery. Maybe she should just add a bullseye to Shepard heraldry. Her sense of risk rose to alarming levels thinking of it, so she shelved the idea for now. There had been no…successful runs at her life, but Garrus's concern with security was not misplaced. The threat wasn't even primarily military. Certain people…too many people…had an unhealthy relationship with who they thought she should be. She was a magnet for all sorts of attention, positive and negative. She was now a celebrity and always would be. She'd given up on the idea of retiring from the public view, as it would be impossible. She was going to re-engage to create a positive force from that. Some of the misguided and frightening aspects of her celebrity were that some people wanted to give her the opportunity to rule them, wanted her to grant them her life essence in fairly horrible ways or let them kiss her feet. She suspected that last one might have only a thin layer of religion on it and more foot fetish, but disturbing all the same.

No thank you.

She was sure Garrus didn't want to worry her, but she was too hyperaware of her environment for security to be entirely unobtrusive. She was sure there was heavy security and it had scrambled a few times in her periphery to protect her. She wasn't going to ask. She was going to behave as though she had not noticed. She was sure it was necessary. It was something he'd set up and maintained when she'd first been at their apartment, and he'd just never told her about it. There were the times she'd seen the scramble, there were the times she heard it, and there had been gunfire.

Over a year had given her enough of a pattern to make her own judgments about security strength and patterns and teams. They were good, but they had to keep eyes on her and be close enough to intervene, so they had limitations in how hidden they could be. She had followed up with surreptitious pictures and facial recognition software. She could probably name at least 60% of the regulars by now. Some of them were cloaked so no luck there.

Security had not lessened over time; it had in fact gotten more intense and involved more agencies. She knew that originally there were people from the Normandy, but she also now suspected Alliance involvement and private security, possibly some from the reformed Earth government. There had been quite a few Turian faces added.

It took some work to not notice overtly, to not ask. This was one of those benign deceptions or non-disclosed things that Garrus watched over and she let him do it. She would, in fact, rather be shot than either notice the security or comment upon it.

For now she just watched and was effectively protected and behaved at ease and unobservant, because that's what he wanted to give her and she didn't want to disappoint him. It wasn't his fault she was so observant. She didn't have to flaunt it. He wanted to protect her without her participation or effort and she was going to make sure he got it.

Perhaps someday if security were lessened, she'd reconsider a child. For now, no way in hell.

There were an embarrassing number of children named Shepard if a male or Morim if a female, she was an honorary Godmother to many and had access to hundreds if not thousands of children she could visit and spoil and fuss over between these children and those enrolled in Academies. There were a few Turian children named Morim and a few named Garrus, but among the Earth-bound Turians there had been no pregnancies due to military service constraints. Turian gestation was two years. Yikes.

She'd become more gracious about praise, trying to serve the needs of the individual expressing their feelings about their own continued life. Naming a child after her was a big deal, one she honored. She'd keep it uncomplicated, accept thanks and spare a verbal thought for the other lost, ask about personal losses, redirect the conversation away from herself. Inside her head she'd tell Thane thank you, or Legion, or Mordin, or Ashley, or Jack, or any of the thousands of names she new now because of their absence.

She was still getting to know herself, getting to know her husband, who they were in peacetime. She was going to be selfish for a little while or a long while, indulge in time spent alone with him. She enjoyed entire days off, vacations and no alarms. He'd said once that they might one day have a time when the biggest choice they had to make was what to have for lunch, and she couldn't get enough of those days.

She would miss the people she'd met on Earth, but she was excited to go to Palaven, excited to see family, excited to see Garrus reconnect with his home the way she had with hers. He'd deferred his own needs or made them all about her for long enough and it was time for him to shine. Her own personal ambitions were to be clear enough to be a mirror so he could see how she saw him, and bright enough to prove to him she could light her own way. She'd been the moon to his sun for long enough. He should enjoy his life, unworried, his intellect focused on greater concerns than maintaining her existence. He'd had no choice but to orbit her choices for a while. She'd orbited him for motivation to live. She ideally wanted them both to produce their own light. Binary stars, orbiting each other for the sheer pleasure of it, sharing trails of fire, dancing.

The issue of wearing an environment suit outside and being inside often was not a problem. It wasn't a problem because this wasn't for her, it was for Garrus. Staying on Earth and adopting family when they could return to Palaven and be among his already existing family was not a choice at all.

She'd chosen to live for him after the Crucible and that had kept her alive physically. That wasn't fair to him, ultimately. He deserved a whole, happy woman. She needed to embrace living on her own terms, enjoy other things that didn't always involve him. She didn't know how much living she'd do without him, but she owed it to him to try the same way she owed it to him to not notice security. He was still her reason for breathing. He was home base. She'd become more willing to go further away from him, but ever aware of growing distance. Even traveling to the Normandy without him while he worked set a clock in her head…'I could be back to him in 45 minutes.' She'd always carry grief and worry and pain, but they weren't at risk of immediately crashing in on her and robbing her of breath and sense. She could see them coming now. She could choose when to engage with the world, when to withdraw. He wanted her to heal, therefore she would heal. From that she reaped the benefits of actually healing.

The Turian fleet was going to have a huge party the final night before leaving, and the crew of the Normandy was invited, she'd see everyone there.

The Quarian relay had been up first, then the Turian. Quarians and Turians were already in contact with each other and trade was taking place. The Quarians had been in luck if only because they'd done so much new infrastructure work and they had been low tech systems in order to be able to go 'back to nature' and live on Rannoch without assistance. Rannoch also hadn't been decimated by Reaper forces and the Geth and Quarians had accomplished a lot of new networking before the Crucible had fired.

Palaven had its infrastructure decimated but enough population to pull together and get basic needs, start repairing. Since the majority of Turian society functioned under essentially martial law at all times, the population was more easily coordinated, less chaotic.

London had pulled herself back together and communication with the rest of Earth was re-established, satellite networks re-launched. Other than some crazies of the foot-kissing, Shepard-killing kind, people had pulled together. The largest Turian enclave on Earth had flourished and produced quite a few human-Turian pairs casually and a few bonded. Morim was now fluent in the Turian language, though she regretted not ever being able to get the nuances of the sub-harmonics. She'd put her hand on Garrus's throat so many times as he'd demonstrated. She could hear it, she could feel it, she couldn't do it. She just…liked hearing and feeling it from him.

She was much better at picking up expression, having had so many opportunities to read multiple Turian faces, particularly people not as stoic and guarded as Garrus. Turian faces didn't have the micro expressions that human faces had, but she'd learned a lot about mandible expression. Garrus was still a flawless liar. Something she admired, knowing the effort it took. She couldn't tell when he was lying, he couldn't tell when she was lying. When he was open and relaxed, she could see so much more in his face, hear so much more in his voice.

It would have been possible to do that tropical retirement thing he'd discussed before the push to the Crucible, but she knew him too well for that. She was entirely capable of being useless for the rest of her days, but he didn't work that way. She'd observed how he spent his spare time on the Normandy and now, compared to how she spent hers. She could spend a day or two doing absolutely nothing, reading a novel, something she wouldn't remember the following week. Left to his own free time, he always drifted toward some sort of useful work. It hadn't let up at all since the end of the war. He'd study or run drills or fix something or work or catch up on correspondence while she was dedicated to uselessness.

She'd come to the conclusion that he was happiest when he was of use, being of service. It was part of his inherent personality, part of the culture in which he'd been raised, part of military service and public service, part of his soul. He'd just about fixed her so he needed a new project. She didn't plan on presenting him with any more reasons to have to tinker with her, so she'd gotten the idea of dual ambassadorship.

Pros were it was non-military, it was unique, prestigious and it would suit his need to be useful and suit her purpose of not falling back into solipsism like a Drell with a long-lost love.

This was work worth doing and worth doing together. It was work he'd been doing for years, work she'd seen him happy doing. She'd be involved enough in his work and he in hers to properly be informed about and appreciative of what he did. He would have prestige and status, and he would make a real difference. Though he never spoke of wanting those things, always leaving space for what it was she wanted, it was something she wanted him to have. She didn't doubt he'd happily retire with her or do without useful work, but she wouldn't ask it of him. While he was figuring her out, she was figuring him out. To have a truly happy Garrus, add one part Morim, one part expertise in a field, one part opportunity to express expertise and one part appreciation of expertise.

One and two were always guaranteed. Three and four would take some effort on her part, effort she was thrilled to have the opportunity and resources to provide.

There were no real cons. Yeah, she had to work, but it would be work she was good at doing as well. She and Garrus had both gotten very, very good at diplomacy. With their connections, accomplishments and friends, there was no doubt they were qualified for the jobs.

Work was such a huge part of Garrus's personality that she'd chosen to reflect that quality. She'd worked on the offer from Victus for months just in case things happened as they just did. She'd wanted the ship and job offer in place ahead of time in case of a sudden scramble to get back. She hadn't discussed it with Garrus because…what if they never heard from Palaven? Her getting it on her own would assure him that she truly wanted it enough to go after it herself. She'd provided to have the Moonset installed with stealth technology with Tali's and Hackett's help. A huge extravagance, but with travel opening up, they would be watched and hunted. In transit would be the most vulnerable time, she wouldn't allow anything to go wrong if she could help it. She found she could help it. Garrus would understand if she didn't work and didn't expect her to work…but…since he enjoyed work so much, part of him would likely always consider her partly broken if she didn't. This would assure him that she was fine.

Was she fine?

She likely wasn't qualified to answer that. She was lucky, and blessed, and had regained the tools to appear fine. She knew her luck and her blessings and was so very grateful for her life and their continued survival and time to love. A motivation for war had burned in her for years, and that motivation was obsolete. The other motivation that had bloomed at the time was keeping Garrus safe and happy.

Was anybody fine?

Was Garrus?

She wasn't qualified to answer that either.

It was a bit of an irony that he always appeared fine no matter what was going on with him. It would be hypocritical for him to expect something different from her. In that way, as well as in others, they were well matched. They were both perfectly capable of functioning as long as it was physically possible. Crisis had become their day to day, there were advantages to that. Regardless of their inner state, they both continued to work toward a better future, and in that there was beauty. A lot got done on that basis. Given good work to do, the motivation to do it and the best company in which to do it, there wasn't much more she was willing to ask for in a life going forward.

His presence made nightmares impossible to her extended relief and knowledge that she needed him to continue to breathe. It was the first time in her life that she had enough sleep for long enough, and no interruption from nightmares. She didn't attempt naps. On the flip side of something as powerful as how much she loved him, there was always fear of losing him

They hadn't had enough time together, possibly never would, for her to feel she'd had a 'good life' together in a sense of having it been enough. Yes, she was blessed and luckier than anybody she knew, present or past. That just made it of more value, more worth the fight. Of course it was a good life, what would be even better would be more time. She had quietly relieved that stress by promising herself she would choose to die of a broken heart. The idea of living without him was an unbearable one. She had no other purpose she wanted to fulfill. He was, finally, at great cost and sacrifice, her true and only chosen purpose. She had accepted needing him.

To be honest that might be something keeping her from motherhood. The fact that if he were gone she would be tied to living for a child when she would want to follow him.

He loved her for her hope, and she did as much as she could to be hopeful, but she could only light the way so far. Did he deserve a woman who would live for herself, whole on her own? Possibly, ideally. He wasn't going to get her, though. Check back in 20 years.

Right now she needed him and he craved that from her, and she would provide it because she had it as a natural resource, in abundance.

She was still too close to catastrophe and despair to dismiss their influence on her. She would be pulled out of the present by the horrors of the past or the fears of the future, but she was able now to re-center herself moment by moment, be there for him. She never fully reached peace from it unless it was in his arms.

She didn't feel there was anything missing in her life and she was blessed with the ability to spend nights in his arms, hear his stories and see the pride he felt in what he did shine through. It was a constant miracle.

Addiction to Garrus was not metaphoric. It was a real thing, roiling in her blood, as solid a need as thirst or hunger. She estimated from her past experience that deprivation wasn't felt until about 29 hours had passed, the length of a Palaven day. Reverie itself had an afterglow of about 5 hours, making for easy mornings, and then a slow sobering from that point on. They were both agreed, neither wanted to go through being apart again. Any job requiring separation would be done by someone else. The longest they'd been apart since his return had been nine hours. She'd been on the Normandy and he'd been on tour of the Turian enclave and they'd missed lunch together. That was about as long as she was willing to go without him. Life goal.

A Turian physician here on Earth had informed Garrus that he produced bonding pheromones and chemistry at three times the level of a normal bond pairing. No explanation given as to why that would be the case. There just wasn't that much information on the subject. Garrus had informed her of this and then said "It makes sense to me. This couldn't possibly be normal. No bonded Turian pair would ever have gotten out of bed."

She never had a chance against that. He overwhelmed her and she never got her balance. He changed so quickly, his scent, his moods, his methods, that she never got used to who he was day to day or hour by hour. He had become an unpredictable kaleidoscope of a person to her, dazzling and dynamic. Time together with no interruption had intensified how exquisitely tuned and reactive his body was to hers, deepening her sense of helplessness in his presence and even away from him, wanting to get back to him for another dose of helplessness.

Her best balance was when her arms were holding her up. That is who she was now.

She had difficulty with the philosophical side to this physiological phenomenon. Under Reverie every single thing that happened was exactly what she needed. She was convinced if he started reading her a manual about crop rotation she'd discover a deep inner need to know about it. It would be a spiritual revelation. She bet if he looked bored with her, she'd discover a long-buried internal craving to be neglected. Reverie sense was self explanatory. Everything under the influence was defined as perfection in that moment.

From there it became more complicated. How reactive was day to day bonding? Was it dictating circumstances or being dictated? Was it his bond that drove his insight into her, or did the fact that she'd melt into a puddle no matter what he did...

Well, there was a differential in melt rate, no doubt, that he'd figured out, just as she'd noticed the things that make him happier than others.

It became a circular thought process. Reverie inspired her in mundane circumstances, but they didn't stick to the mundane for their inspiration when out of the direct influence of Reverie. He wasn't reading to her about crop rotation or looking bored. She was going to Palaven, obstacles transformed into nothing in her way. They had time together without Reverie where her mind worked with more clarity, but it was still always bent his way, wanting to know what would make him happy, wanting to be near him.

She thought maybe she was just beginning to feel the real force of bonding, what it had felt like to him all along. Reverie granted them peace from striving for each other only when they were joined. It drove them both when they were temporarily separate people.

Human brains were odd things, bits and pieces of different eras of existence overlapping each other. She felt he cut to the most primal part of her brain, threw her back to when ancestors to humans had gone into heat. Through trial and error and her responses, she had no doubt his body had figured out how to unlock that part of the brain that she couldn't unlock herself, something that hadn't been unlocked in eons.

The dynamic of their relationship was difficult to determine so far as choice and bonding chemistry. She'd granted him all the power it was in her to grant, and felt a need that stripped her down to the most basic functions in her brain. Did she need that from him and was that why they ended up here, or was what she getting reverse-engineered into need chemically? Did he need that from her and is that why he got it? The things he went out into the world to bring back to her were things she wanted. She tried to do the same for him.

Damned if she knew the answers.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The party was HUGE.

Whatever had been here before had been destroyed. It was now a huge open field that had been cleared and replanted with landscaped ornamentals. It was a beautiful spot, adjacent to the Spaceport. There were still Reaper bodies strewn about, but they'd become much less menacing and much more…places for graffiti and selfies.

This particular site was slated for preservation of one of the fallen Reaper bodies, a memorial placed for those lost in the war, visible from landing sites.

There were tables and lights and food and music…lots of music, multiple bands. There was Turian percussion and human music, even some Asari.

The party was so big she and Garrus would need to use proximity alerts on Omni Tools to find anybody. She didn't usually like crowds, but right about now she wanted to see as many people as she could, they were off tonight. The Moonset was berthed and primed, ready to go, they'd leave here and go directly to her and spend the rest of the time on the ship, getting up into orbit in accordance with a lengthy but tight schedule with the Palaven fleet. The Turian armada returning was formidable. They'd said goodbye to their apartment and offices, packing light in personal goods and high on things that Garrus felt their family would need.

Security was nowhere to be seen, likely dismissed. This party was Turian military and honorary invitees, including the Normandy crew. If anybody wanted to screw with Turian security on the night they were about to head home, good luck to them. She was going to be ostentatiously vulnerable. She was wearing a thin summer dress in shades of ombre coral and silver jewelry that coordinated with her locket. This was one of those no bra why bother outfits, assuming it would be sliced to bits later on. She was looking forward to it.

She was at the side of a large, casually dressed but prominently armed Turian who held her hand and smiled at her, but also watched the crowd intently at predictable intervals.

They were surrounded by more armed Turians, all of whom were also watching protectively.

She wanted to check in with everyone that she could check in with. Some people weren't here and she'd said prior goodbyes, but really only a change in address where she could be reached. Samara was at an enclave of Asari somewhere in a mountain range for what she considered a long-needed retreat. She spoke of returning to Falere once the relay to Thessia opened up.

Zaeed was officially retired and she and Garrus had given him a goodbye vid call, and he'd had two bottles of very expensive alcohol delivered to the Moonset. "Hey, if you guys get in any trouble, don't call me. I'll be drunk or have a very bad hangover. I'd only make promises I wouldn't be able to keep, then I'd sober up and I'd remember to tell you both to fuck off. Here's to getting drunk. If you guys want to be big goddamned heroes, that's on you." He had been assured that heroics were over, and he'd been pleased. "Good. Only so much luck comes your way in a life. Grab yours and run."

Jacob had successfully talked his wife out of naming their baby Shepard, but only part way. Barclay Shepard Taylor was doing fine and making mother and father crazy. Crazy happy, but also mostly crazy, sleep deprivation would be a main memory in the minds of his parents about his young life. They were helping to rebuild Alliance Command in Vancouver. When they'd informed him they were heading to Palaven he'd been happy for them. "Congratulations, Ambassador Shepard and Ambassador Shepard. I hope to see you both soon. So glad to hear the relay has opened up and your family is safe, Garrus. Good luck to the both of you, I know you're going to kick diplomatic ass. I feel safer already."

Miranda was also on the other side of the planet now, lending her expertise to helping Alliance soldiers that had lost limbs. She'd offered limb regrowth to Shepard, but it was a long process and Morim didn't want to spend six months on that project. Maybe later. She was grateful Garrus hadn't insisted, six months is a long time to be in a hospital bed. Again. Miranda was now in Australia helping soldiers reconnect with their own bodies. Miraculously. She got the same sort of funding that she'd had under Cerberus. She deserved it. They hadn't been able to talk but Miranda had returned a recorded message. "Congratulations to you both, and to your family, Garrus. The techniques I'm using will also work on Turians, so be ready for a visit. I've had some interest from Turian hospitals. Good luck to you both, I will see you soon." Oriana had been sent somewhere safe, Shepard was sure of it. She was also sure Miranda would never discuss her on an open channel. Morim wasn't going to ask. Hopefully the right relay would open up or had already opened up somewhere and they were together.

Walking through the area, she'd stopped and gotten some fish and chips, he'd stopped and gotten some Kelitren, then explained why it was used for slang. Why it was used for slang for her.

He'd said "Yes, cheap, messy and easily discarded. Clearly describes you."

She'd shrugged after nearly choking on laughter. She'd then said "Well, you do discard the wrapper. A lot."

He'd smiled and slid a finger along the strap of her dress. "Yes, well. That part is true." When they'd finished eating he'd lifted her in his arms and carried her over to some Turian dancing. Her dancing had gotten better and this one she actually knew. She knew the people in the band, they knew her, she knew a lot of people on the dance floor and met some new ones. This dance though, was just with Garrus. It was a Turian-human hybrid dance because through Turian politeness in the company of humans, men were permitted to ask, according to Earth custom. At least now with her leg she had an excuse for relatively sucking. She didn't care though, and neither did Garrus, and they'd finished the song with her in his arms, forehead pressed to crest, panting and joyous.

She'd have lots of opportunities to ask on Palaven.

They'd worked their way to the group of the Normandy, who had set up at a few huge tables, interspersed with new friends. She knew they were getting close when she heard "Battlemaster!" and Grunt came loping up. He picked her up and spun her around, Garrus laughing. Grunt said "You're tiny. I'll never get over it. You're tiny, Battlemaster."

Garrus said "That's Ambassador now."

Grunt… well…grunted and said "Nah. Battlemaster. I'm not retiring."

Morim said "No, you're going to outlive us all and have soooo many breeding requests."

Grunt put her down and thumped his chest and said "Yes! The Tuchanka relay needs to open SOON."

Wrex came up beside Grunt and said "I've got a head start. Bakara is busy right now, I have no doubt." He sounded…like Wrex. Confident and prideful.

Grunt said "Yeah, but I'll be around longer, old timer. I'll beat your record."

Tali came up and hugged Garrus and Morim, and Ken, Gabby, Adams, Traynor, Cortez all cheered at their arrival, hugs and waves and greetings.

Joker and EDI were on the edge of a nearby dance floor, very slow dancing. Stilted on her part, but she could tell he couldn't care less. They were finally getting their dances in. EDI was not fully herself, but she knew that she had been in love with Joker, and she was determined to fully be that person for him. That sounded like love to her. It looked like love to her and Joker knew it. EDI would crew with the Normandy from now on, go wherever he went. Their missions were strictly local. That might change with the opening of relays. The Normandy had been re-strung together with the help of Traynor and Tali, and EDI was no longer the driving force of the ship. She was in and of her platform, choosing to be more human. She was unshackled, unable to entirely recoup who she was, but having seen enough of her own history enough to know she was a part of this group, valued and loved.

Vega called them over and they moved to stand near him. He introduced a woman sitting next to him. Kiara was a lovely pilot from the ground forces, she'd been stationed in London when the Reapers hit. Vega had his arm slung around her shoulder and he didn't offer a hug or a handshake. She seemed a little intimidated by the company she was in and definitely the company she was being introduced to, but Vega's steady attitude and conversation put her at ease quickly. That, and Morim was sure the arm helped. Her shyness disappeared when they started trading stories about fire fights.

Dr. Chakwas told them that she was going to be attending cooperative Human-Turian workshops on Palaven often, as she'd learned while on the Normandy and on Earth lately to specialize in Turian medicine and had worked with a lovely physician, Dr. Alcinder. Who happened to be Turian and directly at Karin's side all evening.

Liara and Javik were sitting at a side table more privately. Liara had been over to visit Morim often, more than anybody she'd seen the most of her. With a huge hug for both of them and a nod from Javik, they sat down and caught up, congratulations given and received.

Kaidan arrived with drinks order for the table and sat next to Cortez. Morim smiled, thinking they'd be lovely together. They'd be the most polite couple in history, and very happy.

Tali was well on her way to getting drunk. She'd brought her own alcohol and induction ports. She was infectiously joyous, sharing pictures of the new home on Rannoch, Kal and land overlooking the sea.

Kenneth and Gabby were finishing each other's sentences as usual and all Morim had to do was listen to them for a little while and invite them to visit on Palaven. Adams seemed to have gotten used to their banter, surfing the conversations and commenting only occasionally, but clearly entertained.

Traynor was on and off the dance floor enthusiastically, congratulations and hugs given to Morim and Garrus.

Everyone was invited to Palaven.

She and Garrus hadn't discussed returning to Earth and for now that likely wouldn't happen. Definitely visits. Possibly vacations. To live here full time though, that would dilute the promise she'd made and the future she wanted to build for him, with him.

It was a relatively casual evening, thankfully. Everybody here had said goodbye to each other, expecting to die at several points in their lives. This was merely a parting, not a crisis. People were moving on, moving in, meandering like a lazy river through their lives, not expecting to be too far away again. Not expecting to die with the next mission.

Garrus told her "They wanted to know if there was anything they could do for you to show you their appreciation."

Morim said lightly "Hope you told them 'nothing' and that being alive covered it."

He nodded and said "I tried. The Alliance is still going to build a statue of you…right over…there." He turned her and pointed her toward the Reaper body, framed in his hands.

She groaned and he laughed and then said "These guys though, I just told them…alcohol and ice cream cake."

She turned to kiss him, saying "You know me sooooo well."

He smiled down into her eyes and said "I do. Plus the humans here also like alcohol and ice cream cake here, so it wasn't a hard sell."

There was cake, and toasts, and turning down Ryncol shots because she couldn't keep up with Wrex anymore.

Wrex had laughed and roared, half drunk already "Yeah, well, if you faint, we know Garrus can carry you."

Garrus had lifted a shot to her hopefully. She had carefully declined and he'd picked her up anyway. He'd decided it was time to go and they said goodbyes and she waved, taking hugs and shouts and promises to talk later, visit soon. He didn't put her down throughout it, and it was the same feeling she'd had when he'd held her that way through well wishing at their wedding. About to start a new life, not to be separated.

He'd carried her back to the ship and she'd looped her arms around his neck, nuzzling there and kissing at his skin.

There was a package for them awaiting authorization on the Moonset. Kasumi had a crate of bras, underwear and dresses delivered with a note "Good thing I know your taste in underwear, Ms. Gunn. Consider yourself now belonging to the Crate Of The Month Club."

Kasumi had excellent taste.

Garrus looked pleased but then confused. "How does she…"

Morim said "During the party on the Citadel at the apartment. She spent at least part of the night looking through my lingerie. Now I imagine she spends part of the day noticing my purchases."

Garrus made a face and say "Well…that isn't as bad as it could have been. Can't argue with the results."

She nodded and said "Technically it's stalking, but I love her so much there's no way I'm complaining. She's given me my privacy back from the world at large, who cares if she invades it occasionally to send me presents I need and want."

Garrus looked at some of the dresses and said "I think they're really my presents."

Garrus brought the crate in and stowed it in the cargo space, which was filled with tech components and luxury goods available from Earth and required on Palaven and enough weapons to fill an expensive armory. Garrus was building up a fine collection, and this time hadn't been forced to abandon everything periodically.

They weren't due to leave for another 7 hours, but she walked into the cockpit, opened the shields and looked up. Full moon, beautifully framed above them.

His hands settled on her shoulders lightly, his warm palms sliding up and down her arms, leaving goose bumps. He said softly "Moonlight. Your skin in moonlight…I'm beginning to regret not leaving that picture window open, holding you against it, my hands between you and the glass."

His fingers traced the shadows of the muscles in her arms, the curve of her shoulders, talons along her silver-highlighted scars in the moonlight. He pulled her back against him and tilted his head over her shoulder, watching as his hands moved along the fabric over her hips and waist, bunching it and then smoothing it. His hands traveled to her breasts, creating shadows and new textures. He drew along the neckline with the tip of a talon, then pressed her breasts in and up until they were straining against the line of the fabric, creating deeper shadows. An approving purr grew in his chest, growing to a growl. He kissed at her throat, nipping at the skin there while his hands explored the light on her breasts. He said "I'm going to build a home on Palaven with at least one wall of shielded glass and I want to see you in the sunlight and Menae's light and the light of Nanus. I want to smell the sunlight in your hair and taste the moonlight on your skin. Moonlight there is warmer, you'll be drenched in gold instead of silver."

She started to turn but he held her still. She tilted her head back and a little sound halfway between a whimper and a moan escaped her mouth. His low laughter set her knees trembling.

His hands sliding over the fabric of her dress brushed over tight, sensitive nipples. He growled as he drank in the response of her body under his fingertips and mouth. He said "This is my last opportunity to lick the moonlight from your skin. Who knows when we will be back? We have hours…and the moon might set and then I can lick the darkness from your skin."

She tried to turn again, saying a plaintive "But I want to do something."

He nuzzled and then licked at the lines of her neck. He held her upper arms, keeping her in place. He said "No. Sorry, but no. My ship, my rules. Ask me again after you lose your voice."

It took her a moment of thinking because thinking was…really hard right now, and she just said "Hey…"

He chuckled against the back of her spine and soft trembles grew in her limbs. He said softly "Didn't human ships at sea have…carvings, statues at the front of them? I studied a little human military history. What were they called?"

She searched for a word "Figureheads?"

He nodded, humming against her skin "Mmm…that. So this is a human tradition. A beautiful woman out in front, watching over the ship. Watching over her crew. We need to do this every time we decide to go somewhere."

His hands were deliberate and maddening, whispering over her skin, warmth and texture but no pressure, no real friction and she wanted friction badly enough to dig her fingernails into her palms and bite at her lip.

She was not good at patience, not this kind of patience, and he knew it. He was going to catalogue her skin in moonlight for as long as he wanted and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing, anyway, that wouldn't make him drag it out even longer for interrupting his plan. She should be used to his ability to turn her into a stuttering wreck in minutes, but there was always a flash of vulnerability to a depth she had trouble facing, as though she immediately forgot when she was out of his arms just exactly how crazy he could make her when the mood struck him.

She didn't just feel that she wanted to turn and wrap her body around him until he was inside, she felt a sharp, biting hunger when that was denied, and he knew it.

He knows it because you do the same thing to him. You've done exactly the same thing to him. Over and over. And it was fun.

That was just not comforting right now.

She felt the vertigo and rapid descent away from rational thought and the idea of deferring pleasure. Her mind couldn't make sense of that right now, not when his voice was in her ear and his hands were on her body. She knew she'd love every moment he spent with her, and he'd never taunt or tease her in order to ultimately deny her…but he'd taunt and tease her for fun along the way. He would make her a moaning, begging knot of sensation and she'd feel every shred of control slip away from her.

Complete loss of control without being able to regain it still and may always in his arms make her feel more helpless than she would ever be comfortable feeling. She'd done enough work on her own ego and vulnerability that she could do it…but she always wanted to reciprocate. It was simultaneously a right and a gift, something she couldn't give to him anymore. No biotics. No strength. She'd always framed the question as something he wanted. To be uncomfortably honest, it was something she wanted. Enough to get implants? No. Enough to regret not being able to turn the physical tables on him? Oh yes. This was about her choices, not his. She could get implants at any time, she didn't need to ask him if he'd welcome it. He loved her weak or strong, took advantage of either condition. She still struggled with loving herself when she was this weak, this vulnerable, this helpless.

They spoke Turian when they were alone together always now, her translator set to hear him without distortion. For a culture that didn't write poetry their…his…endearments were solemn and loving, the depth of his intonations making translated English a thin substitute for his real voice.

The strain of holding still under his hands drove her nails deep enough into her palms to draw blood. He caught the scent immediately, drew in a deep breath, unfurled her fists in his hands and trilled in sympathy, gently chiding her "Careless gifts, Venri." He turned her and licked at her palms, eyes glowing with reflected silvered blue. He held out his forearm and wrapped her hands around it, settling her nails into his skin. If her fingers dug in deep, he'd bleed. She flexed her hands, being able to touch him and press her palms to him a relief. He lifted her by the waist, and being pressed against him was a deeper relief, a tightly-held sigh released from her lips. He leaned her back against the shielded console of the ship, so she reclined at a 45 degree angle, her head tilted back to look at the moon. His forearm held her hands over her head and he began licking the moonlight from her skin. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, digging in her fingernails and gripping at his arm as his tongue traveled over her skin and over the fabric of her dress. She lifted her legs to try to wrap them around his waist, but he positioned her legs down until her heels were angled sideways through his spurs. She writhed and dug in her fingers and arched her feet as his mouth left warm, endless paths over her skin and dress, cooling as his tongue moved on. His hand rode the curve of her hip, flexing and keeping her from arching up to him.

She felt incandescent, living in her skin, anticipating the next moment and grieving the loss of the last. He bent his knee and leaned in, the plates of his thigh against the folds of the dress, her body catching his rhythm and more moans left like breathing. His hand left her waist and the restraint lifted and she moved her hips against his leg. He shifted his arm and his scent bloomed and his claws trailed the scent in tracks, points tracing over her skin while his mouth continued on its path.

Here was where the conflict and the struggle lived, she wanted him inside, now, that part of her mind driving her body to strain to reach his mouth, to draw him out of his body until he was driving into her, seeking only that moment. She was straining and raw.

He didn't particularly care if she saw herself as flawed and errant, undeserving of his overwhelming devotion. She saw herself as faded and having not earned her keep. He disagreed vehemently enough to create this dissonant image in herself as a person of less than average worth and utility, and he saw a goddess bathed in the light of moons.

Reverie would make that all fade and perfection would be achieved. It spared her the internal strain of self recriminations. There they could both be perfect. He was already perfect, she was not. That's how she saw it anyway.

Times like this he would let her do nothing and her body and mind imploded from the effort of holding still. He sought thousands of building moments and asked her mind to lie quiet, accept every stroke and touch as a gift, as worship. She sought equality and he blew that all to hell. There would be no balance, no equality. He would show her over and over that he never agreed to seeing her the way she saw herself.

This thing you do where you refuse to acknowledge you are larger than life. We know life, Morim. We know relative sizes.

The switch back to his language and culture had brought out what she'd so often admired in him, his relationship to his own truth. He'd had to live in her world for so long where everything was negotiable, truths especially. Her force of will no longer colored reality the way she wanted to see it and he no longer had to argue with her about it because someone was going to die otherwise. He had time and patience to wear down her sense of self and show her how he saw her.

The winds of her mind blew her in one direction and she set her sails and traveled, then he'd come to her and force the winds to blow the other way. He'd make the ship turn, make her travel back further than she'd come on her own steam toward him.

Figurehead.

Did something inside herself demand this from him, did bonding demand that he had to do this for her?

She counted breaths until she could soak in the flawless rolling sensation that sang in her skin and her hands flexed on his forearm with less desperation. His hand traced and retraced the light on her skin, his mouth and tongue making cloth over skin wet, puffs of warm and cool air from his inhales and exhales. Texture from his hands changed from warm strokes and blunt edges of fingertips to sharp, cool trails from talons.

Her breathing matched his, her muscles and skin stripped of any purpose other than waiting for his hands to pass again. His hands teased at edges of fabric, brushing the skin of her breasts without cloth between them, then his hand moved again to her thighs and waist and his mouth was on her breasts, her spine arching like a bow. His hand slid between his thigh and her underwear, knuckles against the wet fabric. He added a soft purr to his breathing, pressing mouth plates to her breasts. He sliced fabric and kissed through the rents, his tongue tracing random jagged paths along the edge of the tears. The air was cool and her overheated and sensitive skin felt every passage of breeze, each shift of fabric and mouth and hands.

He mauled her clothing until it fell away in tatters and shreds, sliding off her body or brushed away in tickles and shivers. He leaned back and looked at her body, a fiercely possessive expression in his eyes when they met hers unmeasured moments later, provoking a dizzy flip of her stomach and another spear of vulnerability mixed with lust at the sight of him.

He lowered his body onto her, just a little weight on her, enough to press plates and sternum blade into her skin, into her breasts, her stomach. He kissed her, finally, finally kissed her, nipping at her lips and twining his tongue with hers until the familiar dizzy heat started pounding through her blood. His hand traced the softness on the inside of thigh, moving to tease and stroke, growling against her mouth. She could kiss him now, so her mouth was ravenous against his, and he absorbed the ferocity of her kiss, answering her frantic hunger with his own slow pace. He slid a finger inside her, his thumb moving with patient slowness, careful when she wanted rending, mindless oblivion. He held her body down with his own and the trickle of Reverie wasn't enough, her control evaporated.

She felt her skin light with patches of blue cloud and lightning, trembles and tension. She dug her fingernails in until she felt the blood and moved to let go, but he pressed her arms down with his until she was pinned down. She bit at him and he ignored that, doing exactly what he had been doing, his tongue and hands infuriatingly slow. She had a wisp of thinking "That was stupid" before she did it again, struggling against his arm and hand and trying to lift up, no actual plan, just impatience and frustration, hunger incarnate, the struggles of an addict. She tried to raise her knees, but he twisted his legs until her feet were trapped in the angles of his spurs.

She found voice long enough to say "I'm going to kill you and the Spirits will bless me for it." Curses were lyrical in Turian.

He laughed, but his hand didn't still, and he said "Mmm. You can try, Bakan. Worth it. I'm not sure your feet are supposed to go that way. I can tie them instead. Your call. I'm kind of hoping for the tying, though. There are still…a few pieces of that dress that will work."

Out of old habit of cursing him when she was frustrated she translated her wrath into Turian "May your plates wither and fall, Vakarian!" She hadn't argued with him in forever, she hadn't called him that in…he hadn't called her Bakan in…

Long time.

He pulled his head back, and then he shook his head with mock sadness "Tying up it is, maybe a gag." But his fingers didn't stop and he nipped at her throat. She swallowed hard and then after a gasp of laughter she said "Please don't make me apologize when I want to kill you. Please, please don't make me call you Shepard. I am allowed to call you Vakarian, you never took that right away. This was negotiated before your father." She gasped and arched once and said "I claim protection of Rinkan."

He tilted his head and said "I don't know, you're kind of ruining this whole 'I have my own ship' thing I have going here."

It was very hard to choose between laughing and moaning, but moaning won as he leaned in and kissed the laughter off her lips, rebuilding the tension in her body and bringing her to a wrenching, blinding orgasm. He kissed her with his unchanged slow pace, his body pressing her down, immobile except for her mouth. He withdrew his hand and traced a finger up her body, drawing a wet line around a nipple and then palming her breast and growling against her mouth.

He nudged her nose with his affectionately and then brought his arm away from her hands. He took each of her hands in his in turn, licking at the blood there, then drew each of her fingers into his mouth with a soft growl, sucking at her fingertips. He brought his forearm to his mouth, licking a long line along his skin, watching her.

He gave a regretful sigh and said "Now I have to start over." He returned to lazily kissing her skin.

She made a frustrated, strangled sound and stretched her arms to the side, flexing her fists and relaxing her muscles. She rested her hands on his shoulders and caught her breath at least partway, though she continued to pant through her nose. He said softly "Why don't you call me Shepard?"

She hadn't thought about it much because it seemed obvious to her. The name Shepard was too linked to her reputation, her persona, something she tried to shed but grew back like a snake skin. It was hard to think now, but an example flitted across her thoughts and with a slightly evil twist to her mind born of frustration she took on a breathy, husky quality to her voice, porn-worthy, and said "Mmm…yeah, Archangel, mmm…give me the BIG…GUN…" and dissolved into silent tremors, her body shaking from the effort of not laughing, and trembling from over-sensitized everything.

His head jerked up and he loomed over her, his hand covering her mouth and she started to laugh outright, then licked his palm.

He said "Okay. Okay, point made." Then he started to laugh and braced his arms on either side of her waist. She saw his shoulders and chest heaving with laughter, his eyes lit with humor and love. He looked down at her when his laughter died down and said "You make me crazy."

She raised a brow and said "I make you crazy? You drove me to stupid fighting, cursing and porn voice."

He stood up and lifted her legs from his spurs, smoothed his hands down her thighs. Her synthetic leg had sensation the same as her organic leg and he always treated them as though they were indistinguishable. She was even ticklish under the knee and bottom of the foot of the new leg, as it mirrored the sensation of her other leg. He repeated "Yes. You make me crazy. I like to return the favor. How could you possibly wonder why I would enjoy making you crazy along with me?"

She shook her head with exasperation "Because I'm always already there."

His voice was warm "Yeah…that just makes it better. It's your body's fault. The way you smell, the way you feel, the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you look after your body has come a few times. There are hours during the day when all I can do is want, and need, and then I can bring that out in you when I get you to myself. I can show you my mouth needs you, my hands need you, every sense I have strains to pick up the same need in you. I know you want me, Bakan, but to get to that point where every muscle, every breath, every sound you make means that I know if I set you loose, you would drive yourself down onto me, expressing that need with trembling force…there is no way you're taking that from me. Ever."

She felt too much at once at his words, abashed and ashamed and exalted and eased. She said softly "I'm sorry, I didn't…humans don't really notice that much of a change in…and I don't have the senses to notice it…in you…does that happen to you? Do you change…? Shit, even if you do, I can't tell. I'm human. I'm sorry."

He shook his head lightly and then said "I have no idea if I do. I don't think so. No orgasm. I'm a constant. You are not. Your body can do all sorts of things mine can't. I'm just enjoying that fact. All I know is your body can sing."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes and said quickly so she wouldn't hedge "I'm sometimes afraid that bonding makes you…might force you to…oh damnation…that this is some level of service or…" She subsided into a pained groan because he was laughing so hard he couldn't hear her.

Okay, well, that answered that. Despite the acute embarrassment, she started laughing along with him, if only because the tension in her was going to escape that way. She said a half hearted "Shut up" and that only made him laugh harder. Then she said loudly "Have you noticed you didn't marry a Turian?"

He said just as loudly "Have you noticed you can speak Turian so you could ask questions?"

She thunked her head back and said "Damn it."

He said "Have I been wrong? Are you in any…pain?"

She said "No, it's not pain. There is a level of torture."

He smiled and said "Yeah. I like that part too."

She said "You're a terrible person."

He shrugged "Guilty. So are you."

She bit her lip and said "Yeah, well, that's true…but I worry…"

He said drily "I'm shocked."

She continued "I WORRY…that this conversation you have with my body means you and my body know things I don't, or my body is lying to you, or I am lying to myself, or even worse, is that I really, really, really want you to spend hours and hours and hours while I do absolutely nothing, soaking in pleasure like a sponge, making you work…"

He barked a laugh again and then said "No. Sorry. Continue. Worry. Serious worry."

She sighed heavily and said "I hate you. I am going to kill you and the Spirits will bless me. When I can walk." She looked at him and her heart melted. Hopeless. Helpless. "Stop being handsome and charming at me, it's rude."

He said solemnly "Okay. Let me see if I've got it now. You are worried…" He stopped to cough a short laugh but then wrapped a lock of her hair idly around a finger and said "Okay. More seriously, you are concerned that due to…cross-species considerations, I might be picking up certain chemical or physical signals that don't match your image of yourself? Is that…what you're thinking?"

She said "Okay, too much has happened and we haven't talked about any of it, really. I'm not a biotic any more, Reverie doesn't clear my system. Ever. I'm swamped. I'm not strong. You told me that's okay, so that's okay. BUT…I can't…I don't have the physical stamina, or the biotics to hold you down, or the…even the will. I swear, I will just dive on top of you. You touch me…and I melt. I melt into trembling, incoherent…"

His brow quirked and he said "You're demonstrating that."

She hit his shoulder and he grunted obligingly. She said "There's this thing. Called heat…it's a term of mating. When an animal goes into heat, a female will just stand there, trembling. Hamsters are pretty brutal about it. If a male goes near a female when she's not in heat, she'll rip him to shreds. But when she's in heat she just…stands there…trembling and shaking and…augh. You hamstered me, I swear. I can't…I'm in heat…all the time. ALL THE TIME. It doesn't go away. It's supposed to go…away…at some point. Heat is only periodic in mammals and now it's forever in me. If my body is swapping secrets with you, this is what you have. I am never not thinking of you. You seem fine, the same, as I slowly descend into inarticulate and ineffectual lust. Did your bond bypass a few million years of evolution? And… AND… and… if you have… do you want it or do our bodies want it and do you have to…I'm so confused."

He thought for a moment and said "If that is true, that is possibly the coolest thing I have ever heard."

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

He laughed and said "Five years, Bakan. Five years of bond to you, two years without you. Years of inescapable desire, no relief. As you know, I'm three times more bonded than your average Turian. What you don't know is that other Turians, bonded to other humans here on Earth, don't do the three times as much thing. They seem to be normal." He continued to play with her hair, and dipped his head for more kisses to her skin, trails of his mouth.

She lifted her head and said "Why?"

He shrugged, talking in an entranced tone, calm, still fascinated by her, unwilling to stop touching or hold still. "I don't know. I've thought about it. We haven't talked about it much, but I've thought about it. I don't know what the real answer is, but the things that are different are that I bonded to you without you knowing it, and then you died. We never had sex. Most…well…I'd imagine all…sane…people…had sex and then bonded. That's what normal Turians do, anyway. What I did…it isn't done. Not just to a human, but bonding to a person without their consent. Everyone believes you consented to the bond, for me to have done otherwise, to have bonded to you while you were unconscious, un-consenting, unknowing is unthinkable. I'm not explaining that to a physician. For that to get out…impossible. I hadn't thought it at the time, but what if it gave me an impossible advantage? I'm a bad Turian. It could be decided that I coerced you, you had no choice. I'm sure that would appeal to the Turian ego, bonding making me irresistible to you. I had no idea what would happen, I didn't honestly think it would affect you because you were human. I expected it to only affect me. Even if I had known it would affect you, I don't know if I would have changed my mind, I likely would have justified it somehow. I wasn't even sure you were going to survive and I wanted…I wanted to have that level of dedication to you before you were gone. If you died I wanted to honor how I felt. If you lived I had every plan of carrying out a formal courtship on even footing. I knew you were the woman I wanted and I would not want another. Maybe all that time apart without sex…who knows? My experience from having a reasonably normal and active Turian sex drive and then the triple overdrive of this bond, my best guess is that after you were resurrected I was in hot pursuit. Biologically. It seemed my body was convinced I had you and then lost you, and I needed to get you back. I may always be that way. Too much stress, too much loss, too many separations, a gap between species and time to be leaped."

He bent his head and kissed her, his hands on either side of her face. He said "You think I'm the same while you experience 'inarticulate lust' but I have been in inarticulate lust for so long I know no other way to exist. I developed discipline over years. When I see your pulse leap in your throat because I am near, it is confirmation that you feel something like it. Bonding to you means that you are my law, Bakan. When I have the patience…which is not often, because when I see you I want to do too much, too many things at once…I enjoy sharpening your need until I know it feels to you in that moment, the way I feel every moment. It isn't work. It's…" He thought for a moment, then licked a line along her shoulder to her ear and then said "Therapy."

He lifted his head, smiled at her and said "I can hear Mordin's words in my head. 'Bonded male Turian behavior highly responsive to female needs.' Biologically, what if that meant staying joined, safe from nightmares, safe physically, close to me? What if it means you really never had a choice? I bonded to you when you were at your most vulnerable. I'd better earn that every day, that choice. What if that is what made me have to restrain myself from running away with you to a cave? What if now that also means my body is striving to get you pregnant? I know, my body knows that you want children. Once I knew that, I could feel that working at me as well. Wanting to give you a child, feeling I have failed since I can't do that for you. I can understand not knowing the difference between what your body wants and your mind wants. Having been on the others side of it, and if this bond has affected you the same way, I sympathize. I'm not…sorry…but I sympathize. I would have preferred to be not quite so insane on the subject, but it appears we may both have fewer choices than we thought. I'm grateful for the company. Tell me…what do…male animals in heat do?"

She said "Mostly what I have seen is as I've said…kind of brutal…stand there, hold still, bite, shove…"

He looked at her and smiled. He drawled "You don't say."

Her head fell back and she said "Oh Spirits, I married a hamster."

He laughed and stroked her cheekbone with a talon. He said "No, you married a Turian. That's pretty standard Turian behavior. I married a human who may or may not have been encouraged to become a hamster through bonding chemistry. You have changed. Your scent, your personality, your job, your emotional state. Your body changed from biotic human to dead human to superhuman to Leviathan-enhanced superhuman to Leviathan-enhanced normal human. You've changed so often it's hard to retrace what happened. The change always starts with you and then moves through me. I can feel it, and I've felt it get stronger and stronger over years. Yes, I enjoyed you being able to overpower me, but it always drove me to more competitively overpower you. I do not miss you kicking my ass. I am not nostalgic. I am happy if you are happy with who you are. I adjust. You also know you can kick my ass by simply asking. You don't ask. You allow me to torture you. You've given it so fully you don't consider using your tongue to ask me to stop, when you know I would immediately. Instead you use your tongue to beg for more. You have given me proof of your promise that your purpose is me. Now there is less drama, less worry, and I can protect you. Now I don't have to escalate in dominance. I don't need to feel that I won't be enough to keep you from choosing to die. I don't need to worry that you will die if I'm not there every moment. I feel as intensely for you, more intensely, but it can be focused with intimacy and not conflict. I can be at peace. I can't separate out all the danger and fear that drove us to who we were then. I prefer now. You and I have wounds, some that may never heal, and some of mine have to do with the anxiety of not being enough for you, not being able to protect you. I will always know that you died and that I could not save you. Having you under my hands, knowing that you need me, I can find no greater peace out of Reverie. It is a balm for my conscious mind that it isn't only Reverie, that I didn't only offer you chemistry, and that you had a choice. It's possible that with the change from you leading and being in danger every day, then me leading and you being safe, still, staying at home, what might be interpreted by both of us intellectually and biologically as nesting behavior…it may be that the secrets your body whispers and my response has hamstered you, that you are in heat, that our bodies strive to get you pregnant together."

Thoughts were swirling and new information was still settling. She still had more questions than answers. She said quietly "I don't know…if I want children."

He smiled a little sadly, his mandible flaring wide and then pulling in close, disagreement like a shaking head for a human. He said solemnly "If I were human, you'd want children."

Hearing that broke her heart. She quickly shook her head and said "No, well, yes, but no. For now…I am terrified of the idea. I'm jealous of time spent with you, I don't have extra for a baby. I'm still… I'm frightened of having you taken from me. That still takes up so much space in my head. I'm frankly terrified at the idea that I might have to function if you were gone, a child to care for when I have nothing to give but grief. I'm horrified at the possibility of making a loved innocent a target of violence or abduction, putting you through that. I no longer want to live if you are gone. I'm done with that level of bravery. Nobody needs me other than you. I'm reluctant to reach toward other need yet. You are my purpose. Even if you were human, those things would be true. I know you would adopt a Krogan or a human or a Turian or a…a…Vorcha for me. I don't know how you feel about children and with this conversation…I don't even know if either of us have any say over what are bodies are trying to do. I have an implant preventing conception, it suppresses ovulation and periods, it's active for five more years. I promise you…if you were human, I'd be just as frightened, just as jealous, unsure enough to say no…for now. It's a terribly selfish thing to say, especially if you truly want children. You've never spoken of it, but right now, I want 20 years more to spend with you, just you. Turians usually don't have children until then, right? I've done some of my own research. Garrus, I'm asking you now. What do you want?"

His head tilted as if trying to see if she were telling the truth, how much of his own truth to tell. He said "I suspect you and I have the same answer at this point. We are busy asking each other 'what do you want?' and we can't decide until we know what the other wants, and that changes our opinion. We're also notoriously good at not asking each other important questions. For example…where are we? In a ship you arranged to have put in my name, with a stealth drive no other ship has. Where are we going? To my home world, abandoning yours, without you even speaking of a plan to return. You made these plans quietly, secretly, to give me what you know I would want. I am not sorry I bonded to a hamster with this much influence and the power of charismatic speech. You are, by the way, going to continue to have at least two planets and one bond mate wrapped around your tiny, helpless, faintingly weak hamster finger. I am grateful you gave away Boo so I no longer have competition for your affection. Being married to you is still like being pulled into the gravity well of a singularity. If you ask me which direction do I wish to turn in that well…it is often irrelevant. It all comes down to which way do you wish to turn me? I understand, I truly understand why you did not include me in these plans. If I am right, you wanted to prove to me that you were all in, and you didn't want me to argue with you about abandoning Earth. And you are…abandoning Earth, aren't you? For me?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. If I want a family, and I do, I already have one. You will be embraced by a planet that needs you. You deserve to be needed. I will be with you, we will work together."

He nodded and said "I understand, and I know it is a gift, freely given, and you expect nothing for yourself, and that is the only problem I have with this generous and understanding, perfect solution."

She shook her head and said "I will have you. That's all I want. I want you to be happy."

He nuzzled the side of her throat and said "Then you understand my answer to 'do you want children?' and 'what do you want?' Those answers have everything to do with what you want. I would ask nothing for myself. I would have you. You would be happy. That…is what I want. If you do not want children, I do not want children for the reasons you gave. If you changed your mind in the next 30 seconds, my mind would be changed. Whatever you chose, adoption, research into carrying a child yourself, I would want that for you. I might want children for my own sake at some point, but I share your concerns, I share your jealousy. I…do not want to share you, not yet. I would, and if it brought you joy it would bring me joy. I am, however, still deeply selfish about time spent with you. I don't know if that would ever ease, but a child you loved would be a child I loved. I can't make these choices without knowing what you want. You are not good at wanting things for yourself. It makes it hard to get them for you. Other than destroying Reapers, which we have covered, having a child is the only wish you have ever expressed to me that I can't get for you."

She took his face between her hands and said "I could get a child for myself. You know I could. I haven't. I could have adopted, I could still adopt. You can know, in your heart, that it is not anything between us that has stopped me from doing that. Forgive me if it sound weak, or needy or biologically…inconvenient, but I want you to myself. You wanted me to notice that every life that is still lived, I helped. I feel with that, with the Academies, that I have access to and a part in…the lives of so many children. Maybe that dream was because I couldn't have it. Now I could. We could. Do I want to devote my energy to that right now? No. We have new jobs, a new home, two planets worth of challenges. We have a family to submerge ourselves in, to be a part of, already existing. Is it possibly because I'm so selfish that I don't want to be pulled out of your arms at 3 a.m. for a feeding? Yes. Yes, it may be exactly that. It may be that I'm so incredibly jealous of my time with you that I won't even allow a child with your blue eyes or with my red hair to take me from you, even temporarily. That might change. Part of me is trying to pace myself, too. We've got 98 years left, I shouldn't blow everything all at once. I'm only one year into this peacetime marriage thing."

He nodded and she thought he believed her, her heart unclenched. He said softly "So when I say that my mate does unexpected things to make me happy, things that cost her in ways I can't fathom…I would like to know…how is it that when I want to do things to make you happy…torture that makes your body sing, why is it somehow a burden that I should not bear?"

She said slowly "Well…when you put it that way…"

He said "Considering that my wife engaged the confidence of not one, but two Primarchs, and made me an offer it was impossible to refuse without offending my current Primarch, my future Primarch and my wife…"

She smiled weakly.

He continued "I am aware that my wife is manipulative, a liar…" He looked at her closely and she kept her smile steady, barely. "And now she is a hamster. You…are stuck with me in biological overdrive. I like it. I don't want to want you any less. I don't want you to want me any less. I want to see you need, Venri. I want to see and feel and taste and hear your body straining for mine. Your response to that should be…Good. More. Yes. Please. Yes, perhaps I would have been an artist if you weren't my mate. You should not mourn my lack of creativity left in a museum. You are my canvas. We're headed into a life that you fine crafted with your tiny little manipulative, lying hands. A life that will encourage you to diplomatically lie and manipulate. If you know me well enough to know that I want that life together, then I know you well enough to know what you want. We are going to celebrate."

She coughed and said softly "I do have to mention that it might run in the family, considering my husband has had security on me for over a year without asking me whether or not I wanted a detail following me 24 hours a day."

He laughed and said "Yeah, I figured you knew. There's no way gunfire doesn't get your attention. Soooo many people want to kill or hurt you. It's a constant. It will be easier on Palaven. Okay. So you're lying and manipulative and I'm more than a little ruthless and domineering. I'm sure we're both shocked to discover it." He looked at her sternly and said "Thank you, for my future, for my family, for this life. I don't know entirely what it cost you, but I know you would say nothing, you had no choice, you wanted this for me. That is why I did not ask. I understand why you did not ask me about this…but some day, some day, Bakan, you will ask me a question. Some day you will consult me before you dictate the terms of our lives together. Someday I'll consult you about the lengths taken for your safety. Some day. It's too late for today. Today we have to shut up and let it go."

She nodded and said "All right. New life. New rules. I will ask more questions. I'm not sorry."

He caressed her cheek with his huge hand and said "I'm not sorry too." He kissed her a long, long time, until she was thoroughly dizzy and clutching at his shoulders. He sharpened the tight and aching hunger in her body with the same slow pace and patience, his hands and mouth lingering, loving and thorough. She got lost in the passing and returning hot and cold, tongue and scrape and point of his body.

He pulled the strength and will from her until she was, as she often was, composed of need and please and his name. He fed her pleasure and frank, unapologetic worship and his own need, his strength the only strength permitted.

Warm…soft…weak…helpless…

Her boxes and categories and compartments shattered and all that remained was her mate's chosen purpose and dedication to her body and what secrets her body whispered to his, bypassing her knowledge entirely.

She let go, really let go of roles and expectations and modern civilized thoughts, balance and equality and lost herself in his hands and his mouth and the words she didn't understand but she felt.

She closed her eyes and stayed that way, his body came to cover hers, press down on her and press inside. Her legs and arms wrapped around him and held to him, every moment precious. She began to experience faith as a thing as solid as her muscle and rushing like her blood, not a thought that passed.

He lifted and embraced her, whispered more words in his beautiful, warm voice.

The moon was long gone, forgotten as he lay beside her in the cabin of his ship together, his hands in her hair and his voice at her ear. She thought briefly that it had been entirely silly to try to imagine a life as dual stars, and forget about the inexorable gravity well that would guide their dance. They were both caught, unable to escape, but both equally determined that their will was what had allowed the gravity to build in the first place. A blessing of peace. Their personal small choices leading to the inescapable they'd both desired.

His words left few spaces, but she filled them with words of love, of surrender, of devotion, of dancing, in his language in her voice.