Thane settled into the imbalanced and prickling sensation of being outmaneuvered by Cara Fanning, with Kolyat as her sword and shield, Thane unwilling to kill either of them.

Mostly.

Mostly unwilling.

Together they were invincible and they offered him no opportunity to divide and conquer in the days following their joint announcement.

Lengthened life was a cursed gift. He had hoped to die and begin again as a seeking Manipar with a mind composed of inspired tabula rasa with only her name traced upon it, etched in light, in hopes of his seeking and finding her, engraving her name, whatever it was, upon all future tablets that might exist for an eternity.

He did not seek her dying with him. If he had to wait for a lifetime or several lifetimes, he would use that time to be a better person, unburdened by his past. His freedom would come first and once she died she would be free. He would protect her until his last breath and beyond, but she would eventually die and he would find her.

His death at the hands of the Collectors, even death from Kepral's would have been known quantities, deserved and earned, known and welcomed for the potential it granted him to spend all his energy seeking what and who he loved. To perhaps become someone worthy of love.

Now the burden of his life, the burden of his choices, the time in a hospital bed that he had hoped to avoid, had avoided… would all settle on him despite his wishes. It was the burden of continued loss and pain, the memories of Irikah, the loss of a son's lifetime spent alone and neglected, the missed opportunity by only months of claiming Cara and being claimed…

It was too much to ask of him. She had asked it of him without mercy. Cara gave him no opportunity to express his anger although she knew it keenly. Kolyat would not understand that anger. He did not wish to force Cara to explain to Kolyat in order to arm him against the deep-sunk wells of rage and pain that had made Thane wish to set down the burden of this highly trained and highly pained body, lay down the burden of his venom, lay down the burden of his mindlessly and then mindfully gathered guilt into his heart and mind, what he had done in battle sleep.

What he truly wished to do…

Take a woman that did not belong to him. Release himself from the restraints of duty and responsibility and with free mind and body, something he had never experienced, keep her far from harm.

He wished to be free and yet he faced further and extended subjugation to the conditions and requirements of this body and Path. He feared his endurance would fail. He knew it would not, but he needed that fear in order to be compelled to exert effort he must take to make restraint the truth.

Cara was at risk with him alive, his surging need to convince her to stay with him straining at chains that he alternately feared would break and would never weaken. With him gone she would be safe from him. With him gone he would not experience the crushing stress of the straining, his surge of hope at each potential weakening in her or despair over the fact that he did in fact love her and that meant he would never question her will, his Path set and Rightness served.

At least… never question her will to the point of countermanding it. He would otherwise question it each day in theory, but not in practice. He counted all the wasted time and energy on something he could not stop obsessing over, could not stop straining against, would never cease in his will to pursue. That weighed upon him as a lifetime of further debt and guilt.

Kolyat risking his health was the impaling point of deepest rage, where he paradoxically wished to kill them all to spare debility in all three, die himself to begin again, Kolyat to find the Shores with his mother as he had sought, Cara to find her sands with him on the dunes.

The words 'It is the will of the sand' echoed in his mind, convoluted and pained, shifting with the effort taken, the effort he would take to hold those words back for the increasingly distant and painful future.

Kolyat's infirmity or death would be unforgivable. Cara would be responsible.

Thane… would forgive her. But only so far.

He wished to be spared these paths, to begin again, without the Compact, without venom, without an irresistible-and-ordered-to-be-resisted pull toward a woman he would not leave and could not have. Without the blindingly driving fury at the risks to Kolyat's wellbeing.

He contemplated the spoken and unspoken will of the sand, the prayer of surrender and struggle to fate and the mercilessness of the desert without water, patient and without order, claiming the lives of those who wandered there without wisdom.

He had almost spoken of the will of the sand to her, wished to now, breath stolen by something seemingly fated, an eerie stress against his Spirit and an emptiness of lungs that wished to speak something and make his will Whole. A Signpost he stood before, shaking in denial that it must be his direction, the knowledge and sensation of inevitable submission to Path and to Fate, railing against a step taken away from what he wanted, what he could have if he permitted himself again to be without mercy to the extent she had just shown herself to be.

Seeing the determination in her eyes, her expert wielding of his own son against him had created in him an answering call of smiling equality of mercilessness of which he was capable.

He attempted through practice of meditation, of exercise and routine to transmute the frustration, that chained and straining anger and will into that which honored the will of the sand. He had seen a hope, a mirage, and stumbled toward it, now without water and without will and with only the burning scorch.

Now he must rise, must gather his dignity and conceal his rage, pain, wish and whim.

He might find consolation in the fact that had it been only him alone with the sand, it would not light the eyes of his son, straighten his spine, strengthen his voice.

If Kolyat wished to reach his own power and strength by…

Subjugation of his father?

There his thoughts wavered. Kolyat's power and strength were inspired by Cara, and it was strength inherent in both of them. Sacrifice. Kolyat unable to wield it well until Cara placed it in his hand, natural and with an echo of his mother's will.

The sand demanded sacrifice.

She demanded it.

He would not remain scorched on the dunes, he would submit to the sand. He had walked for a time, now he would sink below the surface, out of the sun, a cave, a refuge, no forward motion, no mirage. Hidden as he had been so often. Pain and sacrifice and the demands of the community, these were all things he knew, those motivations and sensations familiar in their envenomed and twisted sting. He had vowed he would never submit to those things again, yet he had underestimated his community: Two small, fragile creatures of adamant sacrifice that he could not kill, could not defy and would serve until his death.

Which would not be soon.

This was a time of hope and happiness for Cara, for Kolyat, triumph of sacrifice and inverse belief that they were helping him.

He must find a way to make it true, to not poison their triumph.

He had no goal, no Path, no forward way other than being escorted to a bed, kissed upon his forehead with the belief that this was for greater good, untrue but unarguable without shattering those he loved whether or not he deserved the right to love or be loved.

He closed his eyes and imagined a moment of finding Cara alone, pressing her to a wall with his body, whispering in her ear these words: "Siha, if my son comes to harm through your willingness to take chances with his life, chances you know I would not take, that I want to kill you for taking against my wishes, it would be best that I not wake. Take it upon yourself, Cara, to kill me yourself in my quiescent and obedient sleep if I survive and he does not. I am not a man of quiescent and obedient sleep but I will do it in Your name, in His name and you bear the responsibility for consequences as you do for conception and execution. I do not wish to see what I will do or what I will want to do and will not do in His name, in his memory. It would not be the will of the sand or your will, but my Will. I do not wish for you to See. Ensure I will not look into green eyes that find it her duty to inform me herself that my son is lost and yet I am saved. I will not be consoled. I do not wish to see the form my… forgiveness… will take."

Then because he would only grant himself a few more moments of indulgence in fantasy before he submerged himself in potential endurance and acceptance of the fate of the sands, he imagined shocked green eyes and the full potential of his anger under his skin, in his hands, on his lips, imagined kissing her to seal her understanding of wrath and the form it might take.

He savored the moment and then placed it with so many other fantasies with green eyes he had entertained. He melted back into the reality of the invincible adamant of those he loved, those that loved him, shifted and sank into sand, into the cooler realities of prayer and submission to a Fate that had taken him at the age of six and had not, in fact, let him go as he might have hoped.

He had not earned his freedom.

He would not tell her those things. Cara Fanning would know without being told but would never kill him in his sleep despite any warning he gave her.

He would wait. He would forgive.

It is the will of the sand.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Thane slowly and gently placed his concerns in the sand and allowed them to sink, to be covered, seeking solitude and darkness, prayer.

Cara and Kolyat were always together if he sought them out, smiling determination on their faces and some consoling vibration of hope and victory about them, their arms and armaments.

He returned to the Normandy to prep for surgery, seeing no need to delay. He consulted with Dr. Chakwas, began the testing phase of pre-surgical protocol.

EDI would be his safeguard. He would not be tempted here to corner Cara to threaten her or to say anything to his son that was poisoned. This was not battle sleep but submission, not something foreign but so much a part of him that it was lulling, soothing in its familiarity. He took comfort in the potential fate of dying during the process. He felt it would be the best outcome. He had no control over bringing that to pass, would not interfere with his medical course.

His Community expanded from two small adamant and fierce creatures of sacrifice as days passed in solitude and preparation.

Spectre Orbestan visited him and said quietly "You once told me that you could put your son in my care and I would do nothing to harm him. You were right. Let me back that up by saying if anything happens to you, or even if it doesn't, Kolyat will always have someone to call on. I figure you won't need a damned thing from me, but if you do, ask. Shit could have, would have gone sideways without your help. I don't have to like it to know it's true, that I owe you, and that I might have fucked up Trireme without you, then we wouldn't have just done what we've done."

"Thank you, Spectre Orbestan."

"Call me Russ."

"No."

"Call me Hemorus?"

"That will do. Thank you for caring for Kolyat."

"You're welcome. Good luck with your surgery."

"Thank you."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Councilor Vakarian had fruit and tea delivered to Thane weekly, it appeared it would become a tradition. Someone had advised Vakarian well and the selection was excellent. He often had a mug at his side, cold or not, to ensure he took a sip in Cara's sight and she rolled her eyes each time, a small ritual he enjoyed.

Vakarian himself had also stopped by while he was in the Med Bay undergoing prep.

"Thank you for the tea, Councilor."

"Please, call me Garrus."

"Very well, Garrus."

"Right. Mind telling me why you asked her to give me a ship?"

"I have so little control. Even if it benefitted you, at the time I wished to earn a concession."

"And this stunt of hers will make you want to ask for what sort of concession?"

Garrus's voice was on warned alert and Thane was not certain he could reassure the man with any level of honesty. He thought carefully and said "My… hope… is that the surgery goes well. If that is the case, the concession was granted for and to my son. It is true he would not have had the means or will to demand it without her assistance, but I am gratified to see my son wield means and will. I owe you my life. I owe her my life. Now I owe him my life. That is a great deal of debt. I do not relish paying, but at least the debt is owed to the worthy."

"And if the surgery does not go well?"

Thane looked at Garrus closely and realized perhaps he could find someone in the Community to aid him where their purposes aligned. "Perhaps it is best that I not wake."

Garrus's jaw worked and he asked "Understood. You have demanded of her… several times… that she strengthen her relationship with me despite that not being what you want. Why?"

"It is perhaps a petty need to exert my will in any direction. I wish to restrict myself to those things that will ultimately do her good. You… will… ultimately do her good. I have little faith I will do the same."

"All right. Well, I find myself inspired on the subject of concessions and ultimate good… and petty needs to exert will. You're going to Palaven. The hospitals there are the best and it will provide you… and most importantly… Kolyat… with the best chance of survival."

"I will never pass security checks into any hospital on a Council world."

"Funny how a new identity, a wave of public approval not to be believed and being a Councilor can change that."

"Garrus, I look forward to seeing what it is you plan to do."

"Yeah… so do I. Watch the news and get ready for a course change."

Thane smiled and took a sip of tea "As you wish, Garrus."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Cara visited Thane the next day as he lingered in the Med Bay awaiting tests and their results, détente declared in and through the electrical charge of their eyes, deep sea green invested with tempered mercy and mercilessness, dark Drell eyes invested with submission and wrath. Garrus had asked Thane to let him know when Cara was visiting, so he sent a pre-determined alert.

It did not take long, a press release declared.

Thane activated his Omni Tool without explanation and watched, angling the camera so Cara could see.

Garrus appeared at his desk, a statement from the Councilor's office imminent, Vakarian blue in eyes and clothes, ringing authority in his voice "I made an announcement once regarding the reality but not identity of my bond mate. Today all the conditions of disclosure have been met. There will be no higher threat to her, to me, to us than there is known to be today. Reapers are now visible and real, seen in the Collector ship. That threat will not come from any of the sentient races that have been rescued by her. The threat will come from Reapers. We will all stand together against them. My bond mate is Commander Lal Shepard. She is my Avah, our bonding blessed by my mother. I have followed her vision and attempted to honor her inspiration each day before her death, during her death, and after her resurrection. It is my honor and privilege to announce this as part of celebration and preparation. With the foreknowledge of invasion and reality of the Collectors aiding in the construction of Reapers, I will be moving onto the Normandy to continue my role as Councilor, to return to Palaven with some of the Turians rescued from the Collector base. It is time for me to honor the continued service as Councilor to my people, but to also take up arms when needed, to be potentially an asset where I am most needed. It is time for all Turians to bend their minds, take up their arms, be in the place they know are most needed. Time for everyone to do that. Please join me in realizing the extent of the threat, the extent of the sacrifice we must all make, that we must cooperate to fight this threat, without fear of politics or petty grievances in the face of extermination making our choices for us. Now we all choose to fight, to fight together, to fight for what and who we love. Thank you."

Thane smiled, turned to look at Cara, whose jaw had dropped and whose eyes were roiling with a chaotic reflection of the outmaneuvering he had experienced at her hands, petty need to exert will in any direction partially satisfied to see her in such a state.

She whispered "Latin something."

"Siha, congratulations upon your bonding."

She turned to him, eyes narrowed "You knew."

"Not exactly what, but that there would be a when, yes."

"I…"

He watched more chaotic green and said "You are going to do exactly as he says because to do otherwise would be to undermine his inspiration. It is a beautiful day, Siha."

She closed her eyes and slumped her shoulders and said "Guess we're going to Palaven."

"I hope it is a lovely ceremony."

Her eyes flew open "No. No ceremony. I am NOT…"

"Enjoy your negotiations with Garrus."

"You called him Garrus."

"He invited me to do so."

"I really… REALLY… liked it better when you guys didn't cooperate."

He took a sip of tea and felt better, smug potential joy easing the sting of his ego and goals "I echo your sentiments."

If she was to be Garrus's bond mate, at least he could vicariously enjoy her discomfiture. That and the tea were exquisite things to be savored.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Garrus wasn't quite done, springing this on everyone needed a few more touches. He was assured Cara saw it but he didn't contact her, would in fact ignore her if she tried in the next few hours.

Instead he called Russ, who came to the Councilor's office obligingly, grinning at the announcement and glad to be headed to Palaven.

Garrus told Russ "Time for some sudden and seismic changes."

"What if they want you to leave the Councilor's office?"

"Don't care. I'll be where I want to be and I won't lose sleep on Council business, I'll lose sleep on her and upcoming missions instead. Which I was already doing, but now I can obviously take it out on her if it suits me."

"You've always had a really weird idea of what fun is, Garrus."

"Always will. Wanted to ask you something. A few things. We're headed to Palaven and I want to offer you something. Maybe I'm only asking for me because there isn't much I can do for you, but I can make the gesture. You're barefaced and you're proud of it and I don't want to take it away from you if you want to keep it. But… again, without insulting you, let me ask, give you a few options. If you want, you can establish your own Clan, your own name, your own colors. If you want, you can establish a clan of the barefaced, grant it legitimacy, adopt your own problematic and audacious children. You've proven they work out in the long run and are entirely worth the effort. If… you want… I have asked my mother and she is in fact enthusiastic about the possibility of accepting you in the Vakarian clan. She wants to extend my legacy of welcoming biotics and sexual orientation into the Vakarian clan for the benefit of those already wearing Vakarian colors who have had no representation, and for your benefit, to honor your achievements."

Russ's head blurred with the sudden and seismic changes that were intended to happen, that they included him, that pride and place and authority all meant absolutely nothing and there was no other option he would consider…

He could start his own clan, any way he chose.

Or… he could take Vakarian colors because Garrus had told him he deserved them.

Hemorus Vakarian.

Russ spared about five seconds on other options, imagining personal leadership, a male Avah of a clan, setting his own law, biotics and barefaced and forging that path…

Then he said "I think Hemorus Vakarian sounds… just fine."

Garrus grinned and said "Yeah. I thought so too."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Garrus worked a normal day, finally relaxed. Cara hadn't tried to contact him. He didn't even care if that was a good or a bad sign because it wouldn't matter soon. He left his office as it was and returned to his apartment, informed his staff that nothing would change except that he wouldn't be on site. Continue to work, continue to refer business to him, all that would change at least at the moment was that meetings and consultations would be done remotely from the Normandy. He packed a few things heavy on armaments and headed to the Normandy, wondering if he'd be locked out.

Instead EDI let him on and said "Congratulations on your bonding, Councilor Vakarian. Please let me know if I can do anything to facilitate your business while on board. Course is set for Palaven, awaiting the return of crew called back from shore leave. We will leave tomorrow if all goes well."

"Thank you EDI."

Head shot. It felt… so good. Association with Krios and Fanning had taught him a few things.

There's a human saying 'It's easier to get forgiveness than permission' and he'd learned that Cara found it impossible to fail to forgive those she loved. Something Krios had learned early and demonstrated repeatedly.

He proceeded to her quarters. Their… quarters. She was fussing with her menace of a Mass Effect stove, partly covered in powdered sugar. He knew sugar was bitter on the Turian tongue but also that it would be gone soon.

She turned to him and said steadily "Russ told me that Turian bonding ceremonies require dancing. I am NOT doing that."

She'd slid down the slippery slope of everything he'd done and found this tiny perch. Push her off? He'd love to dance with her but he also did know she'd be too shy to do that. Getting what he wanted was one thing, forcing her into hated ceremony would be too much.

He considered dropping his luggage but instead calmly started unpacking, assured Krios wouldn't be here any longer, establishing he would not leave and his bag would not be picked back up again. Weapons in the locker, clothes next to hers.

She couldn't even work up a glare. She was more scared than angry. He said "Okay. This wasn't a conventional bonding. I'd love to dance with you, but if you don't want to, we'll do what we did before. Blessed by my mother, just the three of us. No dancing."

She watched him hang clothes carefully and methodically and all she had to say was a quiet "Thank you."

"You're welcome, virce."

"I suppose I deserved that."

"I would have asked your permission, but it's not like you have a habit of doing that, you knew it was coming, and you have other things on your mind."

"Well… not anymore."

"Thane and Kolyat will get better care on Palaven. We're taking them to Cipritine and the hospital there will be the best place for them."

Her lip trembled as she said a genuine and tear-crested "Thank you."

"You're welcome, virce." His last rifle locked into place he closed the cabinet and lifted her carefully, pressing his crest to her forehead for long minutes. He said "I won't tell anyone your name is Fanning. I would normally take your name, but the name Shepard isn't real and I want what's real. You're human and in that tradition, women either choose to keep their names or take the name of their husband. You want to be Lal Vakarian? Cara… Vakarian? I'll be Garrus Vakarian and then Garrus Fanning when you're ready, if you're ever ready."

Her arms tightened around him and it didn't feel like she was ever going to let go. Finally, finally… finally. He was here. He was staying. She was falling apart in his arms, grief and relief and so many choices made without her, for her, as she'd done for him, as she'd done for others. Nothing according to plan or tradition but everything right, and even if it wasn't right, it was done and they'd make it right and he wanted her to know it.

She said softly, melted and clinging "Yes. Please."