The fucking bugs are everywhere, kept at bay by hers and Samara's fields, and the Collectors and husks are swarming in… and the team is carving their way through. Through the whole fucking Collector base.

'Told ya we were coming for our folks, fuckers.

Chambers, from head to toe covered in slicky goo, is rocking back and forth but otherwise is unharmed and so far blissfully unaware how close she was to being turned into goo herself. Chakwas is tending to her while degooing herself best she can with some Collector stuff, Lawson and Mordin are treating those who look worse for wear, and Shepard…

Shepard is watching those transparent tubes, leading somewhere deeper into the base, listening to something that EDI is relaying to him.

"What now?" Jack asks, the heat of the fight making her recall acutely the touch of his bare skin on hers.

"Now we're going to finish them off. We've come to plant a bomb here, and I know just the right place for it." He jerks his head towards the tubes and Jack grins, though he probably cannot see it through the visor. "No need to bring everyone in, though, and we need to take care of the crew, anyway."

"So who are you going to take along?"

"Garrus, and…"

Scoffing at his hesitation, she steps closer. "Don't you dare to think of taking anyone else, dumbass!"

He pulls her to him, visor to visor. No words are needed.

They barely make it behind the corner when they hear the covering team's fire but they keep pushing on; Shepard, Garrus and her.

The way it should be. His pal and his gal. The best company to…

To die in.

Squaring her shoulders, Jack growls furiously. Don't you dare to die on me, dumbass. You are coming back with me, even if I should bring you out in my teeth.