December 20, 2187

Shepard stepped down off the end of the Normandy's ramp, a wide grin spreading over her face. "Oh my god." She looked to Garrus as he helped Lenka jump down. He turned to stare across the few metres of open field, going completely still.

"What?" Speaking seemed to break the spell, and he looked down at Shepard then back at Sol who stood just behind them, a wide, turian smile on her face.

"It's a seven hundred year old hunting lodge built for one of the rulers when this was an independent country," his sister told them. She stepped down and led the way to the doors of what Shepard could only describe as a small castle.

"How did this survive the war?" Shepard whispered, looking up at the beautiful, but twisted and gnarled ancient trees that hung across the gravel roadway.

Sol shook her head. "No idea, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I'd found the single most perfect place on the planet. Wait until you see where we're having breakfast."

An elderly couple stepped out a set of carved doors centered on a stone wall between two massive, square towers. Shepard could barely stop gawking long enough to greet their hosts, but managed to shake their hands when Sol introduced her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, looking back up and shaking her head, "and an honour to be here." She chuckled. "It's so beautiful. I wish we'd come yesterday, so I could've had a day to look around. Thank you so much for allowing us to have our wedding here." Shepard looked down at Lenka. "Isn't it beautiful?"

The child stayed pressed tight against Shepard's leg, but nodded, her eyes wide.

The man bowed his head in a genteel fashion and pushed the doors open. "It's our pleasure and honour, Admiral." He gestured back toward the city. "And a way of showing our gratitude. The Reapers were two days away when you stopped them. Over two thousand souls took shelter in our home and wine cellars. You saved far more than some old buildings. "

"But today is not a day for such unpleasant thoughts," his wife said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. "Please, do come in and make yourselves comfortable. Someone will bring your bags from the ship and put them in your rooms." Even as she spoke, a small herd of young men and women in period-themed uniforms hurried past them across the driveway.

"My name is Maria da Silva, and my husband is Manuel. If you need anything at all, we're available. Breakfast will be laid out in the gallery at 0800." She led the way inside and up a sweeping set of mahogany stairs. "I'll show you to your rooms so that you may freshen up first."

Five minutes later, Shepard thanked their hosts and closed the door on the most incredible bedroom she'd ever laid eyes on. A large canopy bed dominated the room, every inch of it carved in intricate detail, the linens rich and older than their ages combined. Her gaze slipped along the plaster mouldings that climbed to a domed ceiling and a very old gas chandelier. She walked over to the fireplace, running her fingers over the ebony mantle before shaking her head.

"Your sister is a wizard," she said, her voice soft. Above the bed hung a painting of horses and hounds coursing over hedges and across fields in pursuit of a fox. She circled the bed and leaned in to look at the signature in the corner, only able to make out the date: 1723. "Holy crap, this painting is 450 years old!"

Garrus opened the french doors and stepped out onto the balcony, looking down over a small lake that appeared as though it had been invading the lodge's grounds over several hundred years. He pointed toward a cluster of ragged orange trees clinging to hillocks between sunken statues.

When she stepped out next to him, he gathered her against his side. "I've never seen anything like this," he said softly.

"Me neither." She nodded toward the city. The ends of Reaper legs stuck up above the top of the hill. "And it was nearly wiped away."

"You saved it."

She shrugged. "Without knowing."

"That doesn't matter. You saved trillions of things you'll never know about. The important thing is that some places like this survived." He turned into her and lowered his brow to hers. "Let's go explore a bit before breakfast."

She grinned, enthusiasm greeting that suggestion. "Yeah, we'll grab Lenka from next door and see what we can find."

Guests and Normandy crew arrived over the following hour, almost everyone who served aboard her was gathered in small groups catching up when Shepard, Lenka and Garrus entered the ballroom for breakfast. Handshakes, hugs and greetings were followed by a couple of hours of browsing the buffet and chatting.

"Shepard!"

She spun to face the hearty bellow. "Wrex?" Striding over, she gripped his arm, then got yanked into a one-armed hug. "What are you doing here?" It hadn't occurred to her that the krogan would still be on Earth.

"Been over on the African and Asian continents helping put out fires. A lot of reactors were destroyed, huge areas of countries contaminated with radiation. Since you humans are such frail little pyjaks, we decided to save your asses and took on the worst spots." He gave her a friendly chug to the shoulder that made her stumble. "We're heading back with your convoy though. Time to get home, start putting Tuchanka back together." He held her at arm's length and stared at her through narrowed eyes. "I thought humans and turians couldn't have young together. You finally get smart, and dump Garrus to go krogan?"

Shepard laughed. "We can't procreate either, but no." She laid her hands over Mercy. "This is Mordin's doing, of course." She grinned and shook her head. "I'm glad to see you, Wrex. Is Grunt with you?"

The krogan cast a glance over one shoulder and shrugged. "He was arguing with some human over carrying our gear." He caught sight of the buffet. "Meat! And plenty of it! We've been living on ration bars and corn or rice."

Shepard chuckled. "Have at it, Wrex." She walked out of the gallery to the front door. Sure enough, Grunt was wrestling with one of the staff. "Hey! Grunt! Let the poor guy do his job and get in here!"

"Shepard!" The young krogan dropped the duffels, knocking the staff member over in the process, and barrelled down the drive toward her.

"Sorry!" Shepard called down as the man picked himself up. "He gets excited. Doesn't know his own strength." She hid a grin at his muffled grumble, and the glare that accompanied dusting down his uniform.

Grunt slid four metres to stop an arm's length away, his blue eyes fixed on her stomach. "Shepard?" He reached out, poking her with a finger. "Did you get fat?"

She laughed. "I'm pregnant, Grunt." She took his hand as Mercy shifted inside her, and pressed it over her belly.

His eyes snapped up to hers, his expression comically incredulous. "You're going to be a mother?"

She grinned and nodded. "Yeah. Well, actually, I already am, but it's a long story." She led him in the door. "Come on, Wrex found the buffet five minutes ago, you're going to have to move if you want to get any food."

He chuckled, his slow, deep chuckle, but he just kept glancing over at her, the incredulity never wavering.

"Grunt!" Jack threw up a hand and strode over. "Damn, you're even more huge than I remember." She laughed and punched him in the arm, then staggered ten feet when he gave her a return punch. "Yep, that still hurts like fuck." She grinned at Shepard. "Oh damn, I guess I need to watch my language around the impressionable." She glanced around as if she had something to hide, then leaned in and whispered. "Can I?" She cracked her neck, looking awkward, then glanced down at Shepard's stomach. "You know?"

Chuckling, Shepard nodded. "Sure, go ahead. Everyone else has manhandled me, you shouldn't be left out."

Jack stepped in close, almost as if shielding her, then placed both hands on the bump. "Holy shit! I mean . . . holy crap! She's rocking out in there."

"Yeah, she does after breakfast for some reason. Maybe it's her workout time." She laughed as both Jack and Grunt leaned down, staring at her stomach intently, as if they could see inside if they looked hard enough.

"There's a little girl in there," Jack whispered, and looked up at Grunt. "Fucking freaky, isn't it?"

He nodded. "It's like an alien parasite. Cut one out of a varren's back once."

"Ummm, yeah, no cutting this one out." Shepard gave them both a gentle push, Grunt's less so. "Go eat and gather your strength. Apparently, we're going to be playing the turian version of rugby in a couple of hours. I am going to need both of you to block for me. Garrus says that Sol is a brutal combatant."

Jack cackled. "I've played hideth turram. It doesn't get good until everyone's bloodied, but I'll keep your face pretty for tomorrow, Shepard, don't worry."

"It's not my face I'm worried about."

When Jack and Grunt walked away to get food, Shepard looked through the crowd for Lenka and found her sitting on Garrus's lap, playing shy while he and Wrex talked. Reassured, she scanned the room, looking for people she hadn't greeted, finding Kasumi and Oriana Lawson speaking to Jacob, Brynn, and their baby. She grinned and struck out for their table.

"Okay!" Sol called over the conversations several minutes later. "If everyone could give me their attention." She waited until the noise level died down. "With the arrival of our krogan friends, this party is complete."

"Good meat," Wrex grunted, shovelling his way through a platter covered in every form of animal product available.

"Very good meat," Grunt grunted in agreement.

As she joined the laughter, Shepard just hoped they'd both avoided the dextro table.

"Excellent. Good meat will be important over the next two days," Sol said and chuckled. "I know the humans amongst us are used to a wedding being a short ceremony followed by a long party, so the next two days may seem strange. Turian bonding ceremonies, however, take place over at least two days and include feasting, sports and dancing as well as the more official stuff. On that note, we seem to be missing our disignatus." She shrugged. "I guess I can start things off until he gets here."

Shepard noticed Garrus moving over to stand on his sister's left side and got up even before Sol motioned for her to join them. She glanced down at her hoodie and trousers, feeling underdressed now she faced the official beginning of her wedding. When Shepard got to the front of the room, Sol took her hand and placed her facing their friends and family on the right.

"Sorry," a rough, familiar voice called from the doorway. Admiral Hackett strode into the ballroom, a datapad in his hand. "Unavoidable political delays. I hope I'm not too late." He paused next to Shepard and leaned close to her ear to whisper, "Sparatus is aboard the Normandy."

Shepard let out a breath and nodded, her heart slowing a couple of beats a minute for the first time since the turian councillor had taken her aside. Unable to sleep the night before, she'd woken Hackett up and asked his advice. Now, one less worry distracted her from the wedding.

Sol stepped aside. "Not at all, Admiral Hackett. We were just about to begin. I'll yield the floor to you." She stepped over against the wall.

Hackett lifted the datapad to read from it. "Those tied by blood and those tied by heart, be welcomed to that most blessed and sacred of occasions: the celebration of two clans joined, two lives knit together into one shared destiny." He paused a moment and took a deep breath. "As disignatus, it is my honour to begin this bonding ceremony with the declaration of intentions."

Turning to Garrus, Hackett said, "Garrus Vakarian, son of Herros and Treana Vakarian, is it your intention to join your life, your family, and your clan to that of Jane Shepard?"

Garrus nodded and cleared his throat, his mandibles doing that awkward, if endearing flutter. "It is my intention to join our lives, families, and clans. Jane Shepard will enrich our family with her strength and beauty of spirit, her indomitable will, her bravery, honour, and compassion."

Hackett turned to look at Shepard. "Jane Shepard, daughter of Charles and Elizabeth Shepard, is it your intention to join your life, your family, and your clan to that of Garrus Vakarian?"

There it was, after more than four years. Shepard smiled, hoping it didn't look as tremulous as it felt. Releasing a steadying breath, she let the smile grow, realizing through all the nerves and worries that she'd been waiting more than two of those years for this day.

When she spoke, her voice came out clear and happy. "It is my intention to join our lives, families, and clans. Garrus Vakarian will enrich our family with his unflinching loyalty, the beauty of his spirit, his honour, his bravery, his compassion, and his strength."

Hackett smiled and nodded. "Who amongst their clans will stand by them through this union, to support them through the inevitable struggles and hardships of life? Who will help them care for one another and their children when they are ill or injured? Who will support them through times of scarcity, when they need shelter or a strong arm to protect them? For it is life's greatest truth that no bonded pair can stand alone. It needs the strength and nurturance of both clans to survive." He looked up. "So, I ask again, who amongst their clans will stand with them?"

Herros and Solana moved to stand behind Garrus, and for a moment, Shepard felt very alone, but then Joker, Liara and Tali came forward to stand behind her. The rest of the crew and ex-team members from the Normandy stood, prompting a surprised and honoured smile from Shepard as they divided in half, standing behind both of them. She reached out and gave Joker's hand a grateful squeeze before turning the brilliant smile to the rest of her people.

"Thank you," she mouthed.

Hackett chuckled and shrugged. "I think that's fairly unanimous then. As both clans accept and bless this union, I declare it sound and command that the bonding ceremony commence."

After the flurry of congratulatory hugs ceased, Sol pushed her way back to the front of the room. "The proprietors have graciously made us a hideth turram field over the crest of the hill to the east. We need two teams of fifteen players to represent the two clans. Meet you all there in forty minutes." She cackled with a sadistic sort of glee. "If you're going to compete, there are blood-proof uniforms and cleats here behind the table."

"Uniforms?" Wrex laughed. "Got a couple to fit us?"

"You two can wear the undersuits for your armour," Sol said, looking him up and down. "I didn't think to bring the ten extra bolts of material and squad of tailors it would take to outfit the two of you."

Wrex harrumphed, then spun to eyeball the chuckling crowd as Joker let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word fat, and Liara mumbled something about there being more to love.

Garrus sidled through their friends to Shepard's side, and slipped his arms around her. Pressing his cheek to hers, he whispered in her ear. "We're actually doing this." He nuzzled her. "I saw it hit you."

She kissed his cheek and mandible. "Yeah. Feels like it's taken us forever to get here."

"Too late to back out now." He gave her a gentle squeeze, then pulled back and stared down into her eyes.

"Never crossed my mind." Lifting a hand to his cheek, she just shook her head as her thumb caressed his cheekbone. "If I haven't mentioned it before, I love you." She jerked her head toward the uniforms. "Apparently, as the leader of my clan, I have to at least start this game?"

He nodded. "Until someone goes down, then you can substitute them into your position. Until then, stay behind Wrex and Grunt as much as possible." As he laid his hands on Mercy, his plates and mandibles lowered into a formidable scowl. "No tackling people, no blocking, no charging, no … ."

"Yeah, I get it. I'm there only for show." She took his hand and led him over to the stack of uniforms. "Make mine a size small whale, please, shopkeep."

Forty minutes later, Hackett stared at her, his entire face creasing into worry lines. "Are you sure about this, Admiral?"

Shepard grinned and nodded. "They won't hit a pregnant woman, Ref." She winced. "Well, some of them might, but I made sure they were all on my team." Shepard tugged at the skintight uniform. She couldn't recall being more uncomfortable outside of being injured. "Besides, I have to compete at least until the first takedown, then I can sub that person in to represent the clan in my place." She tugged at the bodysuit some more, but no matter what she did, she couldn't make it any less restrictive.

"Okay!" Sol called over the noise of eighty people talking at once. "The object of the game is to get possession of the drellak hide, move it down the field to your tower, climb, and hang the hide from the pole at the top. The rules are simple. If any body part above your opponent's waist hits the ground, they cannot be hit. Additional rule for today, anyone who hits the pregnant woman has to block me for the rest of the game."

Grunt looked down at her. "Is that supposed to scare us, Tiny?" He chuckled, then hit the ground on one knee, his lungs emptying with a strangled gasp.

"You tell me, Tiny," Sol said, pulling her elbow out of his solar plexus.

"Between the plates," he groaned and stumbled back to his feet, then over to stand behind Shepard.

Sol looked to Hackett and nodded.

Hackett stepped between the two teams. "The first clans competed in a great hunt to celebrate the union of their people. The two wishing to be bonded each led their clan. While great honour came to the one who made the first kill, more importantly, a successful hunt meant a fruitful and prosperous union for both clans. Today, that hunt takes place on a smaller field, but no less honour comes to the victor, and a strong showing is no less a sign of prosperity to come."

He strode over to the tall pole with the hide at the top. "Jane Shepard and Garrus Vakarian, gather your clans, and prepare for the hunt."

Jack called Shepard's team into a huddle. "Have any of you played this before?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Fuck." Jack rolled her eyes. "Damn, I mean … darn it. Okay, we need a plan. Their team has all the turians, not to mention everyone who has ever played this damned game before, except me." She cocked an eyebrow and shook her head. "By the way, those uniforms make you look like terrified seals in shark territory. Pathetic. They're going to eat you alive."

She paced for a moment, then returned to her spot. "All right. All right. Here's the plan. Grunt, as soon as Hackett blows the horn, you run up to the pole and bend down, prepare to give me a leg up to grab the hide. The turians will try to climb for it, so we can kick 'em in the nads early and get possession."

Shepard grinned, a thrill of equal parts anticipation and terror rolling through her. "This is going to get ugly, isn't it?"

A wide, terrifyingly gleeful smile accompanied Jack's nod. "Then, I'll toss the skin down to Shepard. She'll look pitiful if she doesn't get her hands on it for a few seconds." She let out a harsh laugh. "They'll never see that coming. They'll think we'll paint targets everywhere but smack in the middle of her back."

"What?" Shepard squawked.

Jack flipped a dismissive hand her direction. "No one will hit you. We set up a krogan charge. Wrex and Grunt, stay side by side and bulldoze down the field, the rest of us will cover Shepard's back. When we get a few metres downfield, Shepard, toss the hide back to me and then get out of the damned way. Grunt and Wrex, your job is to keep them the hell . . . heck off my ass. The rest of you, distract and confuse." She looked to all the team members. "Everyone got the plan?"

When they agreed, she cackled. "They're not going to know what hit them." She nodded toward the pole. "Step up, clan leader. You have to start the game."

Shepard did as she was told, grinning at Garrus when he took his position facing her from the other side of the pole.

Hackett shook his head as if he considered them all insane. "Jane Shepard, is your clan prepared to undertake the hunt? To bring glory to your name and the blessings of victory upon your union?"

"We are."

The admiral turned to Garrus. "Garrus Vakarian, is your clan prepared to undertake the hunt? To bring glory to your name and the blessings of victory upon your union?"

"We are."

Hackett backed toward the sidelines.

Garrus and Shepard pulled back five metres. Wrex placed himself in front of Shepard.

"Let the hunt begin!" Hackett called and blew the horn.

For the first twenty seconds, Jack's plan moved like clockwork. Grunt ran up and tossed the biotic into the air. Jack snatched the hide and threw it down to Shepard. Then chaos.

Wrex and Grunt formed up to charge down the field, but then Sol appeared out of nowhere, hurtling over their heads. Shepard grabbed hold of Wrex's undersuit, trying to use him as a krogan shield.

The krogan clan leader gathered her in against his body with one arm, herding her over the soaking, slippery turf while his other arm brushed aside their opponents. "Get out of my way, matchsticks," the krogan bellowed, "or end up with krogan tracks down your spines!"

Then Sol appeared out of nowhere, again. She brought Grunt down, opening Shepard's right flank as the krogan plowed mud with his face. Wrex let go of the admiral, giving her a push toward their tower as he spun to face Sol.

"Throw it to me!" Jack yelled, but then most of the other team swarmed her and brought her down under a pile of bodies.

"Wrex!" Shepard cried and threw the hide to him, breaking off to lead at least some of their pursuers away long enough for Jack to get up and over to the sidelines so Shepard could bring her in. Looping back around, she saw Wrex lumbering toward the tower, Solana clinging to his hump and half of their team hanging off his arms and legs. Shepard chuckled, then noticed Jack trotting toward the chairs just out of bounds and changed course to substitute the biotic into her position.

The tide of battle shifted. Someone, Shepard thought it might be Liara under all the mud, managed to wrestle the hide from Wrex's grip and broke free, running for the far tower, screaming at the top of her lungs. Bodies, so many bodies, all tangled and wrestling to pull down opponents, turned like an out-of-control steamroller to follow the asari. Shepard got out a single cry of warning before her entire world turned into mud and churned up grass. Mud ground into her eyes. Mud filled her mouth and coated her teeth. Mud slid down inside her uniform, an unwanted, slippery guest.

Someone lifted her to her feet. She came up spitting and gasping, unable to identify her saviour through the grime.

"Shepard! Are you okay?" Garrus, of course.

She spat a clump of sod onto the ground. "Fine, other than gritty and covered in grass bits." She spat again and started to laugh. "And so begins my career as a hideth turram spectator."

He chuckled and led her over to the sidelines. "Get Jack in, wash up, and relax." He sat her down, then crouched in front of her. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

She gave him a muddy kiss. "I'm fine, get back in there." Shepard looked to Jack. "It's all yours. Kick their butts for me."

Jack dumped water over her face to get the worst of the debris off, a manic grimace settling over her features. "Oh, they're going to pay, Shepard. You can bet the bankroll on that." Letting loose a maniacal howl, she dove back in, skinny elbows and knees bringing down everyone who got in the way.

"Mommy, you're dirty," Lenka giggled. She passed Shepard a bottle of water and some towels.

"I know, I got run over by an entire herd of Normandy crew." She snagged the child in one arm and covered her face in muddy kisses.

Lenka squealed and struggled, her protests broken up by laughter. "You're getting me dirty!"

Shepard gave her one last kiss before releasing her. Leaning her head over the back of the chair, she dumped the bottle of water over her face, then mopped it off with the towels. "How's that?" she asked.

"You're still really dirty." Lenka sat on the chair next to Shepard to look out at the game. "But not as dirty as all of them. They all look the same."

"They really do," Shepard agreed, scrubbing the towel over her head to sop up the muddy rivulets.

Both teams went down in a flurry of arms and legs and shouted curses, only half making it back up to continue on. The other half helped pull each other out of the muck and limped to the sidelines trading good natured jabs and teasing. They hosed themselves down, then thumped into chairs next to Shepard to cheer the rest on.

For more than an hour, the tide of mud flowed back and forth, Garrus trading out for a few minutes to kneel at Shepard's feet while she halted the flow of blood from his left eye. Once the blue ceased running down his face, he kissed her and dove back in. She just shook her head, then winced as Kaidan crumpled to the ground just past the edge of the field, his nose bleeding profusely between two, already black eyes. She helped him to a chair, washed the bloody mud away, then gave him an ice pack.

"Note to self," he said, his voice a nasal wheeze, "Sol has really hard, pointy elbows."

Shepard frowned even as she chuckled. "Isn't she on your team?"

He just nodded and pressed the ice pack to his face.

After an hour and a half of bloody battle, the inevitable victors planted the hide then hobbled over to the sidelines, congratulating Shepard's team on a hard-fought loss.

Hackett called them back over to the pole. "Garrus Vakarian has led his clan to victory, bringing in the first kill, but both clans performed with great heart, demonstrating determination and ability. Do the clans still declare this union sound? Do you believe both bond-mates to be able to provide and care for themselves, their family and their clans?"

Everyone called out to the affirmative.

"Then as both clans declare their support for the continuation of this union, I command all here to attend the feast and testimony to commence at 1700 hours in the gallery. Until then, go in the peace of unity." He paused and chuckled. "And for God's sake, take showers."

Garrus limped the few metres toward Shepard and draped an arm over her shoulder. "A good omen." he said then grinned. "Lots of blood on both sides." He grunted in pain as he put weight on his right leg. "However, I think Grunt may have crippled me. Help, wife, your mate has fallen on the field of battle."

"Won't be the first time." She wrapped an arm around his bare waist and helped him hobble over to the outdoor shower station. She looked over the filthy crew and laughed. Even most of the spectators were soaked in splashed up mud. "Everyone had better not track all this muck through my ship. Shower here, or doom on you all."

She helped Garrus strip off the tight leggings that were all the turians had worn, then left him to shower, taking the booth next door to wriggle out of the horrible uniform with several sighs of relief. The wedgie from the stretchy material was enough to convince her to stick to the sidelines. Clean, dry and wrapped in a soft robe, she helped Garrus limp up to their room.

"It's just a twisted ankle," Dr. Chakwas announced after examining him. "Ice, rest and some medigel are all you need." She shook her head and left the room muttering about idiots and insane sports and unnecessary injuries.

Shepard climbed up on the bed and laid down. "So, we have a few hours. What shall we do?"

He glanced over at her. "How did the cohamentum go with Dad this morning?"

Shepard just sighed and burrowed in next to him.

He hugged her and nuzzled her brow. "Okay, we'll sneak out and practice before the testimony this evening. Yes?"

She nodded, willing to try, but knowing it was all but hopeless.


Shepard missed Garrus's hand and slammed her shoulder into his chest for what had to be the fiftieth time. Muttering a curse, she walked away a few strides, shaking her arms out, trying to relieve her frustration.

"It's a conversation, Shepard, not a wrestling match." Garrus sighed as he followed her.

Shepard bit back her knee-jerk reaction to that, instead she headed over to the bench near the edge of the cliff and collapsed. "Let's face it, if our marriage's success is actually predicted by our ability to successfully complete this thing, we're doomed." She flopped, her arms and legs splayed, her head lolling over the seat's wooden back.

"You can dance, Shepard, you just need to get out of your head." Garrus thumped down onto the bench next to her, turning a little to face her. "You know the movements. You have the athletic ability. You're blocking yourself." He took her hand. "You are the spirit of grace itself when we make love. You can do this."

She turned her head and opened one eye to look at him. "I'm almost seven months pregnant, and the size of the average single family home with the grace to match, even when we make love." A weary smile touched the corners of her mouth and faded. "Face it, Vakarian, you're not marrying a dancer." She looked out to sea. Whitecaps rolled over the purple-black waters, sweeping the lavenders and peach-pinks of the sunset painted across its surface before them.

Sighing, she let her eyes slip closed again. "It's so beautiful here. It's a like a dream."

"While the Reapers carved their way across our planets, reducing thousands of cycles of civilization to smoke and dust, who would have thought they'd leave anything beautiful in their wake?" Garrus agreed.

Shepard nodded. "Red at night, sailor's delight."

She heard more than saw him turn to look at her, feeling the question in his stare. "Old human saying about the weather from when we sailed the oceans instead of the stars. 'Red in the morning, sailor's warning. Red at night, sailor's delight.'" Turning to look at him, she opened her eyes. "It means good weather for tomorrow. A good omen."

"Unlike our performance in the cohamentum," he said and looked away, his shoulders deflating with a sigh.

"Which was abysmal," Sol called, limping quickly up the long, shallow slope of grass from the torres. "I watched you cheat from my window until the agony became so great that I couldn't watch any longer. Please tell me that Pari has been teaching her these past months at least, and this is just pre-bonding jitters?"

Garrus let out a noisy breath as he shoved himself up off the bench. He granted his sister a single twitch of his head to the affirmative.

Sol jerked her head back toward the stone lodge. "Go help with something, anything else, and leave this to me."

"Stretch, it's no—"

She smacked Garrus in the back of the head cutting off the rest of his protest. "Go. There's much to be done, and Pari was looking for you earlier. I'll take care of this."

Shepard pushed herself up, perching on the edge of the bench. "He was going to say that there isn't any point in wasting time trying to teach me to dance. I'm the worst dancer in the entire galaxy."

"Impossible."

"No. Sol." Garrus said, running interference. "Shepard … ."

"Is an artist on the battlefield, and, by your own testimony, able to sit you on your ass in hand to hand. Therefore, I refuse to believe that this talent does not reside within her." She glared at her brother with an expression that brought to Shepard's mind the mayhem of the hideth turram match earlier. "I believe you were told to go away and leave us to our work?"

Garrus spun around and stalked over to lift Shepard off the bench and into a kiss. "Don't let her run over you," he whispered against her lips.

Shepard kissed him back. "It'll be okay. In half an hour, she'll be dragging me back down to the torres, herself." She slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him down until their brows touched. "Go rest your ankle and see what Lenka is up to. We'll be back before long."

Nuzzling her brow, he whispered. "I love you."

"And I love you." She gave him a gentle push. "I know this is important to you, Garrus. Maybe Sol can help me so I don't screw it up. We'll be fine."

"Better than fine. By the time I'm done with her, she's going to have turian dance companies begging her to audition." Sol chuckled and walked out onto the wide, flat cliff-top.

Uncertain, but willing to take another shot at forcing her unruly body to obey, Shepard followed.

She faced Sol, tense, poised for combat.

The turian laughed. "Oh my, they really have convinced you that you're a no-hoper, haven't they?" She stepped forward, took Shepard's hands and tried to shake her arms, laughing when the limbs responded like rusted iron. "First of all, relax. Let all the tension drain out of your body. Breathe in and out through your feet."

Shepard rolled her eyes, then met her sister-in-law's frustration with a small sigh. "Fine, breathing through my feet."

"Close your eyes." Sol slapped Shepard's arm. "Do it. Don't question. Stop thinking, just do."

"Striking a pregnant woman," Shepard said and clucked her tongue, even as she closed her eyes and concentrated on imagining that as she inhaled, the air flowed in through her feet, throughout her body, then back down out her feet when she exhaled. She peeked out through a slitted eyelid.

"I'll do more than tap your arm next time." Sol laughed, defusing any threat in her words as she took a relaxed fighting stance. "Stop peeking. You've had hand to hand training. Have you fought blindfolded?"

Shepard heard the sound of the turian's arm parting the air as it came straight for her face, and swung her right hand in, up and out, sweeping it aside before it made contact.

"Yes, you have. Excellent. Spar with me. Keep breathing. Keep your eyes closed. Instead of blocking me, flat hand touch to my hand, hold the block through the center of the move. Yeah?"

Shepard nodded, concentrating on her breathing, pulling her center down close to the ground as she bent her knees, drawing her left foot back in a shallow semi circle.

Sol attacked, left arm coming in wide and low. Their palms came in contact about a hand's width outside Shepard's space and tracked through to the apex of the upward sweep. Right hand came straight in, then tracking high. Movement by movement, Shepard just breathed and concentrated on countering each incoming blow, then following it out.

"Faster, but don't lose the fluidity. Start anticipating. You know me well enough to guess how I'm going to attack. See my strikes and match them, then follow through."

Shepard focused on what she knew of her sister: her aggressive personality, the way she tackled teammates and competitors alike during the game earlier, and the sheer will that had kept her alive for months past when others would have given in. Tactical, aggressive, risky, always trying for the big hit—the glorious knock-out blow. Sol wasn't much different than Shepard had been before the war.

Strike. Strike. Faster. The turian's hands flew at her, each meeting with a fat clap against her palm. Faster. Still each incoming strike hit her hands until the pair moved back and forth across the grass, neither pressing the attack, neither giving way, just matching one another move for move.

"Good, now open your eyes, but change nothing. Keep breathing, keep anticipating."

Well versed in the conversation, Shepard opened her eyes, but kept her vision soft, unfocused so that she took in the entire field of battle. As she matched Sol's attacks, Shepard realized with a growing sense of lightness that her sister tossed in movements from the dance, more and more of them as time went on. A wide grin, reminiscent of the one that had greeted her first view of her home planet from space broke across her face, carrying with it memories of the smiles that had greeted Garrus on Omega and then Menae, the soft ones that felt like gifts after they made love, and the one that had welcomed the news that she was pregnant. All those smiles, and a thousand more, broke free, expressing themselves through her movements.

"There you are," Sol whispered, her mandibles spreading as she moved into the wind element. Their arms sailed wide as they spun and came back together, pushing first forward, then sweeping back. Wind led to fire, hot and intense, quick and bright. Fire slowed to the rolling ebb and flow of water. Water seeped into the earth, still and deep and profound.

They stopped, both gasping, chests heaving.

"And you say you can't dance," Sol said between breaths, folding to lean on her knees. "Although, I'm pretty sure that performance means we have to bond now." She chuckled and went down on one knee.

Shepard crumpled gently to the grass, sitting on her heels. "You're pretty good at the whole teaching thing." She wheezed a little and slid down to sit on one hip.

"You do that tomorrow and everyone who has ever said that Jane Shepard couldn't dance will fall over in a dead faint." Sol pushed herself up onto her feet and held out a hand for Shepard. "Come, sister. We have to dress for dinner. Apparently there is some sort of rehearsal we need to do before we hear the testimonies."

Shepard took Sol's hand. "Oh crap. I didn't think about the social stuff. I didn't look at getting anything to wear other than uniforms and my usual." She gestured down at her hoodie, t-shirt, and trousers ensemble.

Sol wrapped a companionable arm around her waist and led her back toward the lodge. "Haven't I looked after you?" She chuckled.

Shepard laid her hand over Sol's "Yes, you sure have. You're amazing."

"Well, to be honest, I never thought my brother would find what he has with you. He seemed a completely hopeless case." She let out a long, slow breath. "My mother always said that he'd find his way eventually, but I was so afraid for him." Casting a sidelong glance at Shepard, she shook her head. "Not the life and limb stuff. He always kicked ass in a fight, but figuring out how to have a life baffled him. I thought the anger would eat him up until he just didn't bother to step out of the way of a bullet one day." She kicked at the grass a little as they walked. "And now he's a father and about to become a bondmate."

Shepard smiled. "Strange, but even though he drove me a little crazy for the first couple of months, I've never seen the Garrus that he sees. I wish he could see my Garrus."

Sol nodded as they stepped onto the driveway, the gravel crunching and popping under their boots. "He's always been at odds with himself. My father drilled him to be a remarkable warrior, but no matter how impressive his skills became, no matter that his spine is formed of solid honour, his soul has always been that of an artist."

"But things worked out, maybe?" Shepard shrugged and looked up at the beautiful stone towers, their crenellations barely visible against the navy sky. "He's happy, I think."

Sol nodded, then stopped and turned to face Shepard. "But he's broken, Jane. You know that, don't you? He's always been fractured, but then your death, what happened on Omega, losing our mother, getting you through the Collectors and Reapers, trying to get anyone to listen while you were incarcerated, watching Palaven burn, losing you again." She made a helpless sort of shrugging gesture. "It broke him. He shows the good, stolid, turian mask, and yes, he's happy with what the two of you are building, but at some point you're going to need to help put him back together."

Shepard started back toward the torres, her arm slipping around Solana again. "I know, Sol. I've been selfish for a long time. I've started trying to draw him out, but I left it too long, and he's so stubborn about 'burdening me'." A thin hiss of air escaped between her pursed lips. "During the war, I was the one with constant nightmares, but more and more, he's waking me up at night." She gave her sister a squeeze. "We'll make it, Sol. Nothing else makes any sense. We'll be there for one another, and we'll make it."