Epilogue - Shelter

Cold.

That was the first feeling that traveled through his body as he woke up, from legs to shoulders. A sneaky yet steady form of coldness that wormed its way to his core. The skin of his cheeks tingled with the prick of a hundred invisible needles, each one reinforcing that inescapable feeling of cold.

He opened his eyes again, for the third time in an hour. He couldn't sleep more than a few minutes despite his exhaustion, or maybe because of his exhaustion. He laid still, eyelids fluttering away to shake off the groggy fog that blurred his mind, listening to the sound of his own breathing and the crinkle of her clothes.

She was right there, the soft part of her shoulder's interior serving as an improvised pillow for the back of his head. Her long arm was hooked around his neck and hung idly against his chest. Her thigh and flank were pressed tightly against his in an attempt to share body warmth. He raised his chin to make his head push against her shoulder, making her green gaze turn towards him.

The dark rings under her green eyes were still purplish-blue. Her stern face remained unmoving, mandibles tightly shut around her clenched jaw. The weight of her exhaustion was palpable. She let out a long sigh and turned her distracted mind to the dancing steam that rose from the foam of her overpriced drink. Her hand was clutched too tightly around the metallic cup in a clear attempt to stop her fingers from shaking too much.

She was still reeling from the cold that made her choke on her own breath.

Then, a familiar, discreet whirr, followed by a dull click. A weapon being drawn.

He perked up, craning his head slightly forward to see the source of the sound.

A group of four. On the other side of the deserted café. They were gathered around a collection of black boxes and thermal clips of various sizes. A massive Krogan, a hulk of muscles and armored plates, was brazenly looking down the sights of his shotgun towards a stoic, stern-faced Turian. The Turian was not wearing any face-paint, a common way to identify liars or individuals not to be trusted. The blueish tint of his well-worn armor betrayed his allegiance to the Blue Suns criminal mercenary group. The third member of the menacing group was a human that monitored his Omnitool, fully encased in what seemed to be an incredibly high-tech suit of black armor. The sigil "N7" was plastered on the side of his helmet. Finally, the last member of the group was an Asari, and despite being slim shouldered compared to her companions, the many small scars that criss-crossed her blue skin and gray form-fitting suit meant that she had seen combat, very recently.

Now that his attention was on the group, he noticed something new. A distinct yet discreet smell of burnt copper, synthetic gunpowder and blood that seemed to emanate from that curious group. He never saw such a heavily armored group in all his career as a cop in C-Sec. Their weapons seemed so incredibly advanced compared to what he was used to handle...

If only they had that kind of firepower when Cerberus murdered their way through the Citadel Presidium.

Suddenly, the Asari stood up, and everyone in the café looked in the same direction as hers. An holographic screen showed images of great white towers in front of a beautiful sunset. From the architecture and magnificent landscape, it was easy to guess that it was an Asari planet.

Then, the orange sky began to pepper with small, black spots. They crashed down into the sea below and the tall buildings, before being followed by the monstrous, terrifying sight of an Asari battleship, engulfed in fire, falling from the sky until it disappeared in a giant explosion of steam, water and eezo.

Outer Council Space breached. Asari territories under heavy attack. Thessia expected to be besieged after the destruction of the defensive fleet.

The news band scrolled on and on, each new sentence draining a little more color out of the Asari's features.

He furrowed his brow and let out a bitter sigh, trying his best not to let his mind wander too far in those dark thoughts that, little by little, the galaxy was going up in flames. He groaned as he stretched his back and shoulders, hoping to shake off the stubborn stiffness of his muscles and bones.

"Can you move?" she quietly demanded.

As he leaned forward on his elbow, his Turian partner extended her arm wide apart, rolling her wrist in a small circle as she let out a tired sigh.

"You alright?" he asked.

"My arm feels numb." she mumbled, curling her fingers into a tight fist.

"I mean... More like in general. How are you holding up?"

She turned her head towards him, her mandibles twitching slightly open at the question. She looked at him in silence at first, her unfocused eyes blinking a few times as if she was processing how to answer him. As her plated brow knit together in a dour expression, her mandibles finally relaxed around her jaw.

"Tired. Cold. Exhausted. Stiff. Scared…" she curtly enunciated, "My neck is killing me, and my back is killing me. And legs. I've never slept in such... cramped quarters."

"We really did sleep in a tinderbox, innit?" he said with a tired smile.

"Mh hm... The wait was the worst."

"Once we settle down, I owe you a good massage, eh? Maybe a drink or two as well." he chuckled, hoping to get a reaction out of his dour partner.

His grin faltered when silence was his answer. Silence, and a shy, nervous mandible twitch.

"...Don't call off success so soon." she whispered, eyes narrowing towards an unseen annoyance. "We're still not... Not safe yet. Not until I know we're safe."

Her words, her caution felt painful.

Painfully true.

But he had to hold on blind hope that everything would be alright, for both of them. That felt like his role. Even if he had to pretend he was not slowly getting eaten alive by worry and fear. In their dynamic duo, she was supposed to be the tall, serious and realist one, and his role was to make that somber face crack a smile.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

"It's gonna be alright." he calmly smiled. "You know the guy, don't you? You were recruited to be here. That's what you said. What's there to worry about ?"

Silence. Again. She turned her eyes towards him, and a feeling of dread speared through his spine.

Her expression was of pity. A sorrowful tenderness.

"You're worrying about me." he whispered, without thinking.

She nodded, and her mandibles clasped shut against her jaw.

But thankfully, the heavy mood was disrupted by the arrival of a new client in the bar, giving his mind something else to focus on instead of the growing ball of angst nestled under his heart.

Another Turian. Male. Straight-laced and stoic. Light gray armor. Dark bone plates over chocolate skin. His face markings were a complex pattern of radiating streaks, enlivened by two long curves on his cheekbones. Judging from the collapsed weapon on his lower back, he probably belonged to either the Port security or one of the many corporations.

He approached the main bar, waving his hand to the young, short-haired woman that served as the bartender. She reciprocated with a warm smile, and after a few exchanged words, pointed her fingers toward their table.

The Turian approached them quickly, pulling a chair and sitting down in a smooth motion. A red arrow was emblazoned on his armor, and the few Turian letterings under the small logo marked him as belonging to the Armax Arsenal corporation.

"You made it." the stranger announced, "Let me welcome both of you to Port Hanshan."

She seemed to relax a tiny bit when finally meeting a familiar face on this strange new planet, but her twitchy mandibles betrayed how tense she was.

"If you had sent me a message in advance, I would have made some arrangement for a shuttle to pick you up." the stranger continued, "I'm impressed you managed to stowaway on an Armax transporter. Let alone stowaway two people."

"I had a few favors to call-in." she undersold, "Even if I dislike it, there's nothing a good bribe can't get you on the Citadel."

"How expensive?"

"Surprisingly low, all things considered." she said, straightening herself on the sofa. "The common belief that the Citadel is the safest place in the galaxy at the moment, so travels out is seeing as almost suicidal."

"You do not agree? C-Sec is not the place to be anymore?"

A brief pause, and her mandibles yawned slightly open as she let herself glance briefly in his direction.

"I've been convinced otherwise." she simply answered.

The stranger let out a quiet chuckle before leaning forward on his elbows. He turned his head towards the other group, on the other side of the bar, and let his voice drop to a conspiratorial tone.

"How many credits do you have?"

"Enough." she responded, "We're traveling light."

He felt it was his cue to join the conversation between the two turians, he grabbed the handle of the long heavy-duty case close to him to drag it across his lap. The thing was heavy and cumbersome, and was once used to house her prized Avenger rifle and its collections of spare parts and thermal clips.

Now, it was crammed full of all that was left from their life in the Citadel.

"You brought weapons?" he asked, slightly tense.

She took a few moments before answering, knowing she was treading on dangerous grounds.

"My service rifle. From C-Sec. M-8 Avenger. With custom mods." she evenly admitted. "All modifications are within the license regulation. No illegal ammunition."

"C-Sec didn't ask for your weapons and badge when you left?" the stranger prodded in what felt like an attempt to force a particular answer out of her.

He wanted to hear her admit something about C-Sec.

Back when they were stuck in that dark cargo hold, quietly hoping for an uneventful flight to Port Hanshan, they didn't have time for doubts or regrets. They couldn't afford them.

They still can't. And that prick's insistence on making them admit that she basically deserted doesn't change that.

"I... We..."

Her words died in her throat, and her mandibles spread loose as her composure broke slightly.

"I made her run away." he spoke up, a slight smile on his face. "We left the Citadel with a merged credits account built on two lifetimes of overtime and hazard pay."

He felt her tense a bit more on his side, but she let him speak on their behalf.

"She had a way out of the Citadel. All I did was give her a push. So forgive us if we don't look back on not properly saying our goodbyes to C-Sec and the Citadel, a'ight? She's AWOL, and I'm an ex-cop. She kept the gun, I gave up mine. That's all there is to it. "

The stranger focused his attention on him, fixing his hard gaze on him. His grim expression grew even steelier, and he was somewhat reminded about the way his tall turian partner would give him those mean judgemental looks, full of silent scorn and carefully crafted aloofness, back when they first worked together.

He knew he was being appraised. His humanity was being scrutinized by his alien mind, just like she did to him once.

Somehow, he felt like he acted a bit too rashly and... overprotective.

But he could not afford to regret it.

"Who are you to her?"

The turian's tone was hard to pin down. Was he curious? Or judgemental? His stern and cold face felt oddly... challenging. He opened his mouth to bark back, almost in reflex, the words falling from his mouth almost on their own.

"She's my partner."

"Partner?"

The same unflinching stare. The same strange tone of voice.

The tone of voice you use when you interrogate a suspect.

He felt her tense up at his side, her fingers curling into a tight ball as she narrowed her gaze on the mysterious stranger.

"What do you mean by "partner"?" the turian man asked, reclining back in chair to rest his arm along the edge.

"Patrol partners." she answered tersely, her voice betraying no emotion. "And squadmate."

"That's all?" The turian stranger seemed unconvinced. His brow furrowed and his mandibles tightened around his jaw.

No. That was not it. Not the whole truth at least.

If this turian knowing the whole truth was their only ticket to settle down on this freezing planet, he was ready to tell the whole story. Shame be damned, he'd be ready to tell every sleazy detail and tell the whole galaxy how he renounced his calling to run away with his alien partner.

Partner?

No.

"She's my girlfriend." he grinned, slowly unfurling that last word. "My partner in love, in life, and in bed. I've thrown my lot with that woman, come what may, because I can't trust anyone else to have my back."

Now, the words were waterfalling out of his mouth on their own in a hushed staccato.

"'Cause I love her. From the bottom of my heart. It's the truth, innit? And I ain't seeing no future where she isn't. So she told me that she found a sliver of hope to find in this cold and remote place, that maybe you could help her find a place here..."

Her mandibles were making quite the clicking racket against her jaw as she glanced at him.

"And you know what she told me when I said to go for it? She told me "Let's go together. So she ain't only my girlfriend, my lover, my partner, whatever you turians call it. She's my..."

What is she to you?

Don't think about it too hard. Come on, first thing to come to your mind.

Her eyes were trained on him, awaiting his words in a mortified silence. He wondered briefly if she was angry at him for putting them on the spot in front of that strange soldier, but he wouldn't mind.

"She's my shelter." he breathed, through a gritted, tight grin.

She let out a brief and quiet "Ah.", still recoiling from the sudden lovey-dovey pledge he blurted out. Then, slowly, carefully, in a clear display of protectiveness or to nudge him to shut his trap, she unfurled her arm around his shoulders to hug him snuggly against her chest. His head was slightly spinning after spilling his guts to the stern stranger. She was not letting a single sound, her entire body felt like a limestone statue against him as her fingers curled up against his arm.

"It's the truth." she softly said, her grim face contrasting with the gentle tone of her voice. "He's my lover."

On the other side of the bar, the N7 armored soldier was loudly headbutting with the massive Krogan for a mysterious reason. Then, with a long sigh, the stranger relaxed his shoulder and swiped his hand in the air in front of him.

"Humans... Always so dramatic." he grumbled, sounding quite blasé about his life story. He leaned forward on the table, resting his weight on his elbows. "It would have been faster to tell me you two were an item."

"What?" he barked, taken aback.

"I didn't mean to pry or grill you." the stranger said, "But I needed to know what was going on between you two so I can tug at the right strings at the right tune."

"What?" she quipped.

"Maybe I'm not using that human expression well... Anyway, I just need to change some paperwork and forge some new documents to get you both smoothly through Customs and into the same heated pod at Armax'." the turian explained matter-of-factly, his stern face betraying absolutely no hostility or anger but the simple tired look of someone that was not looking forward to more work piling up.

She relaxed, and seemed to lower her guard ever so slightly.

"What do you mean... forge documents?" she asked candidly.

The turian stranger crossed his arms and gave a long and wary glance around. When he turned towards them, his voice was hushed but determined.

"This isn't the Citadel anymore. Noveria's a little more... cloak and dagger. Customs may be on high alert and not taking in any war refugees, but I'll show you both how to navigate through the red tape. Administrator Qui'in is pretty lax when it comes to this kind of situation."

The turian stranger took a long look at her, then to him. Maybe it was just an impression, but he looked more morose than stern now.

"I trust you, and that's why I'm vouching for you here." the turian said to her.

"Thank you. I'll pull my weight for the team." she answered back.

His mandibles clicked and opened to show a gentle smile.

"...And since he trusts you as well." he followed, locking his eyes with him. "I will trust you, and vouch for you at Armax Arsenal."

He nodded and quietly thanked him. Even if the turian stranger rubbed him the wrong way on first impression, he seemed like the morally-gray but ultimately good sort.

"Alright. I need to get going soon." the stranger said. He stood up and gave a quick look to his OmniTool, tapping away a message at an unknown contact of his. "But I'll contact you before the end of my shift to give you some info on where to sleep tonight. Your first days here at Noveria won't be the most comfortable until I get you both through the Armax Arsenal Resource Database."

"We'll be alright. We've got the credits to buy a room and food." she answered quickly.

"Excellent." he said, before marking a long pause. "You know, it's a funny coincidence, now that I think about it." he mumbled idly, to no one in particular.

"What's a funny coincidence?" she asked.

He turned toward her, then glanced at him, and then let out a small chuckle.

"I've... also found humans to be very interesting... partners." he cheekily admitted as he switched his OmniTool off. "Be sure to be nice to the bartender here, alright?"

The short-haired woman working behind the bar was looking at their group. When the turian stranger looked back at her, she gave him a nod and a warm smile before turning her back to work on the coffee machine.

"She's my girlfriend." the turian man said proudly.

He couldn't help but grin. Maybe that turian wasn't such a sour nosy stuck-up after all. He noticed that her mandibles yawned open at the revelation, and she let out a discreet and joyful hum.

And then he was off. Walking through the café doors and lazily waving goodbye from behind his back. He let out a tired but genuine "Enjoy Noveria!" before disappearing behind the stout stone walls and water mist of Port Hanshan.

Outside, through the windows of the café, the heavy snow was clearing up. The mountain peaks and towering structures of Noveria were almost visible again.

Now finally alone, and with the promise to get help from the mysterious Armax Arsenal stranger, he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulder. He let out a long, weary sigh and sunk deeper in the comfortable couch. His head came to rest against her chest, and her arm around his shoulder made him feel so much more comfortable and safe. She gently ran her finger up and down his shoulder, but he noticed her mandibles chittering quietly against her jaw.

She was still nervous. Stressed.

"We're going to be alright." he said, rubbing his cheek against the hoarse cloth of her thermic jacket.

"... Partners in love, in life and in bed, huh?" she mumbled, a little piqued sting in her voice.

"Hm?"

"That's what you told him."

"Well, it's the truth, innit?" he grinned. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

"It's not about that. It's... I mean. There must have been a more tactful way of explaining..." she grumbled. "You made it sound so..."

"Corny?"

"Yes." A mandible click. "No... Not corny."

"Lewd?"

"No. Like what we have together..." Another staccato of clicks, she was clearly looking for words she wasn't comfortable using. "Like it's made of sugar."

"Like it's... Lovey-dovey?"

She let out an affirmative hum and marked a pause. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against her armpit.

"It's almost too good to be true. Sugar is very fragile..." she somberly said.

He chuckled, closed his eyes and leaned his head completely against her body. "I apologize, love, but I meant everything I said. I trust you. I love you. And I'll follow you to the end of the world if you would have me there."

She let out a strange whine in response.

"Stop making me feel so... mushy." she admonished, an adorable tinge of shyness coloring her voice.

"Ain't no way an iron lady like you is getting soft anytime soon." he teased, putting his hand on her thigh to give them a playful squeeze.

"Stop it!" she said without anger, tapping on his shoulder like one would do with a misbehaving animal. He felt her hand sliding over his under the table.

"I ain't leaving your side, love. After all, you're the hottest body around those parts. In more ways than one." he kept going, now letting his exhausted brain take control of his mouth.

"Hush now!" she chided, squeezing him tighter against her now. "You're getting on my nerves, idiot."

Her voice was full of shy affection, disguised under her usual tough façade. But he knew she didn't mind him teasing her.

"Alright, alright..." he surrendered, holding up his hand in the air. "But please let me stay just like this."

He nestled against her body. Close enough that he could feel the shape of her flared hipbone against his side, even through the layers of heavy clothing. Now, with her hand around him, and his head against her chest, it felt like she was enveloping him in a comfortable, invisible bubble. A place of warmth. Of peace. Of comfort.

He idly wondered what would be her reaction when they opened up their luggage. When she would notice that, despite her stubborn decision to pack as light as possible, he still managed to hide away that kitsch Krogan plushie that had decorated her bedroom. He wanted the ridiculous toy to be her lucky charm.

Plus, it wouldn't have been fair to separate her from the diminutive, fluffy chaperone.

"We're going to be alright." he repeated. Almost by instinct, without even believing in the meaning of those words.

He barely believed the meaning of those words before.

But it was enough to hold on hope.

They had to be alright.

They had to trust in this hope.

The hope of seeing the sunlight together. Again and again. Day after day.

Survive through the cold. Survive through the war.

Live a life together.

Grow old together, with a bit of luck.

"We're going to be alright." he mumbled, eyes closed, slowly drifting away as the shelter of her arms and warmth led him to drowsiness.

"Hm mh..." He felt the shape of her sharp mouth push against the top of his skull. A featherlight kiss. And then a whisper. "I love you."

He smiled.

And noticed a far-off, barely noticeable thrum.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

A regular beat. Muffled under many layers.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

Something so very recognizable, yet something he never heard before.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

He focused all of his mind on this hypnotizing rhythm.

He wanted to believe that he heard it right.

He didn't even care if his exhausted brain was imagining it.

"I think I can hear it." he whispered, too afraid to move let he would lose the sound.

"Hm?"

"Your heart."

She didn't move. She just hugged him tighter still.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

Here it is.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

Her heart.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

Hope.

Dom. Dom. Dom.

His shelter.