Notes: I cannot apologise enough to anyone actively following this story! Life got crazy and I wrestled with this chapter for a while, but I think (hope) it's better for it!

I also took a lot of time editing out any errors I found in older chapters/making slight alterations, although nothing big enough that it changes the story in any major way. (For anyone that is interested, I mostly changed some thoughts from Reyes' POV that perhaps revealed a little more emotion than he likely would. Having spent more time writing as the character I felt some parts needed tweaking. The biggest changes were in Chapter 6, particularly with his reaction to find out about Sara's previous brief relationship Liam. I just feel that even in his head he'd be more subtle/reserved than I'd previously written him).

This chapter was my attempt at giving Ryder a bit more of a rewarding end game scene... as much as I enjoyed the wink!

A brisk squeeze of her shoulder and a graze of her knuckles with his lips was all the contact they'd had time for. Though the sensation of her warm skin beneath his fingers lingered with a vague memory of her scent on the breeze, Reyes had been left feeling uneasy. So much had happened since he had awoken on the Nexus, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly when he had last left Kadara. It could be six months, could be a year. However long, it was long enough that he felt twitchy, twitchy because Reyes was keenly aware that he knew next to nothing about Meridian. He didn't know the lay of the land and, excepting his agents, he didn't know any of the people scattered around him at all well, and therefore knew little of their motives. For someone who conducted a business that required he always knew exactly what was going on in his vicinity, he felt incredibly exposed. His fingers were drumming a heartbeat against the barrel of his gun, which he grasped with loosened fingers. Reyes was leant with one ankle crossed behind the other, breath still catching in a pant, shoulders slumped against a boulder. It was one of many in the clearing that led into the entryway of the remnant tower Sara had disappeared inside what felt like hours ago but was likely only minutes. The Charlatan and the other… what? Defenders? Guardians? Stragglers? Whatever they were, the unlikely group had fought off several waves of kett during her absence, and the grass beneath their feet was littered with their twisted corpses and marred by thick pools of pungent, olive blood. Even their innards smelt wrong, clinical like the bleached-out insides of a sanatorium. He shoved away the chosen that lay at his feet with his boot, grimacing, trying hard not to think about who they might have been before they were exalted. Some of the figures around him had had the same idea, and were dragging the bodies aside, clearing paths between rocks and remnant barriers. No one was paying him much attention. Yet. He was sure the way he had greeted the Pathfinder would be enough to draw their thoughts back to him once their more immediate concerns were removed, once they were no longer either being shot at or preparing to be shot at.

"How long do you reckon we have until the next wave?" Reyes murmured.

From somewhere to the left of his feet, Davendar's voice responded in a bored tone, "My drone has picked up transmissions suggesting another dropship is inbound. We have maybe… 3 minutes or so?"

Reyes grunted in response, exhaling deeply through his nose and shifting forwards so he could holster the weapon across his back. He reached inside his pocket, his tight shoulders relaxing slightly as his fingertips met smooth metal, warm with the heat of his body, and he pulled out his flip lighter. Lighting a cigarette, he took a drag before letting the smoke billow out of him. Three minutes. An acceptable amount of time to garner at least a little information. He shifted forwards, kicking up one leg against the rock in front of him, eyes flicking between the figures that darted to and fro.

"They say that'll kill you, you know," Davendar remarked, disinterestedly.

"So will the kett, yet here we are," Reyes retorted, yet his eyes did not flick to the salarian, instead tracking a passing turian in Initiative armour.

He had to hand it to the Pathfinder, the sheer amount and variety of people she had attracted was no mean feat. They had come from all over the cluster. New Tuchanka, Havarl, Prodromos, even a couple of gangs based out of Elaaden. Though not all of them were groundside (they were only a group of 30 or so) he'd identified the disparate groups from the storm of comm chatter and the assortment of ships that had streaked past them in the sky, glittering like multi-coloured beetles caught in Saajor's blazing light.

Davendar stretched his legs out from their crossed position beneath him, looking up from the omni-tool he'd been poring over, "Are you just going to stand there and watch?"

Reyes nodded, his eyes falling on an angaran crouched nearby cleaning her assault rifle. He identified her immediately as a resistance member by her aquamarine rofjinn.

"Well, I hope you're better at that than flying…" Davendar remarked before adding, as though as an afterthought, "… sir."

Reyes ignored the comment. He wouldn't had it been anyone else under his command. The resistance fighter holstered her weapon, dark eyes flicking suspiciously over the lone dark-haired human and the odd (although all the Milky Way species were probably still odd to her) salarian sat on the ground next to him, before slouching off towards the rest of her squadron huddled a few metres away. In their midst stood an angaran with a furrowed brow and a turned down mouth. He was gesturing energetically as he spoke, and his forceful tones carried over to Reyes. Although he couldn't quite decipher what he was saying, he had heard that voice before. Evfra.

"Two minutes," Davendar warned.

Another figure amongst the resistance fighters caught Reyes' eye, between the sea of blue uniforms, glinting assortment of rifles, pistols and other weaponry. She was stood just outside of their circle, hands twisting in her robes, head bowed as though she were meditating. Resplendent in mauve and ivory and gilded in jewels, she was the closest thing the angara had to royalty. Moshae Sjefa.

"How are the others doing?"

There was a thump to his right as boots met dirt. Reyes didn't flinch, he was used to the asari's heavy-handed, or in this case heavy-footed, entrances.

She nodded at him respectfully before responding, "They're holding up alright. No losses yet. The group from Prodromos seem shaken, not used to so much action, but the angarans haven't even broken a sweat."

To the left of the resistance fighters were half a dozen or so Milky Way natives, all dressed in the uniforms of an outpost that must be Prodromos. In their midst stood an asari, who in their last stand off with the kett he had seen erect an impressive biotic shield, clasping and unclasping her hands. Close by, a couple of humans and a salarian were stretched out on the ground, clutching at various serious, but not altogether life-threatening, wounds. Glancing over them, Reyes' eyes scanned over the assembled group, but couldn't see their leader, August Bradley, among them.

Reyes looked back to the asari beside him, a gesture which she correctly recognised as a sign for her to continue.

"As for the division from APEX? Well, as much as I hate to admit it, they've obviously dealt with worse shit than this before," her sharp tawny eyes narrowed, a stern line set into her jaw.

Sure enough, as Reyes surveyed the last group, the one gathered furthest away, he identified immediately the confidence in their stances. They were cloistered behind the barriers closest to the remnantt tower, each moving with purpose; securing their positions, radioing other troops, checking the status of their weapons. Although there was an assortment of skillsets; engineers, heavy soldiers, biotics, they all wore and used specialised, in some cases custom, gear and were all on high alert. In the shadow of a hulking krogan, Reyes identified the crest of a particular turian clapping the back of one of his comrades. Tiran Kandros.

Reyes nodded, his lips curling slightly, pleased at having finished his assessment of the gathered troops.

"You sure they won't try and arrest us when this is all over, boss?" Reyes could see the asari watching him in the periphery of his vision. "As much I'd love them to try."

"You worry too much Lymora," he replied, expelling one last plume of smoke, "that won't be happening. We're here at the behest of the Pathfinder."

He pretended not to notice the sidelong look his companions gave each other.

Davendar clambered to his feet, eyes flicking away from his omni-tool at last as he removed his pistol from its position at his hip, "One minute. Coming in from the east."

"Anything to worry about?" Reyes asked, sliding the assault rifle back out of its holster.

"Same size group. None of those mutated krogan, this time. Manageable, no need to call in the others."

From the tone of his voice, he could have been reading aloud the limited menu of a mediocre restaurant for all the interest he showed.

Reyes nodded briskly, "Get ready."

Davendar pinged a warning message to the omni-tools of the troops gathered nearby, in case they hadn't received alert of the imminent kett via some other channel. Wordlessly, Lymora plied them with ammo clips and medi-gel, before the three of them bunkered down behind the closest remnant barriers.

They came the same as before. The next wave, and another, and a third, and it had become so he almost couldn't keep track. If the kett were losing, if the Pathfinder's assault had shaken them, there was no indication in their blank, emotionless faces, in the relentlessness of their attacks. For his part, all Reyes had heard were a few rasped, rushed syllables over the comm channel that indicated that Sara was now facing down the Archon directly. This was something he had not had time to fully process amongst shouts, gunfire, and the occasional blaze of light from a biotic. As much as Reyes tried to ignore it, he was tiring now. Though he did prefer to settle issues in ways that avoided all-out violence, preferred not to get his hands dirty, he was not immune to the rush of battle, a fire that burned like hot coals in the pit of his stomach. But it had drawn out too long, adrenaline ebbing away so quickly now that he could almost feel his body sagging without it, as row after row of kett, identical to one another, lined up before them only for their bodies to crumple under the weight of shots, fire and the angara's bioelectric attacks. His knees were stiff from crouching for such a long period of time, the unhealed network of bruises across his stomach twinging as he stretched over the barrier, strained from the constant weight of the weapon in his hand. There were a series of gashes across his forearm where he hadn't reacted fast enough, and a wraith had clawed at him just as Lymora sank several slugs into its skull. He knew he was getting sloppy, but Reyes wasn't the only one. Even Lymora, by far and away the most adept in the art of killing of any of his agents, was exhaling heavily. On his other side, Davendar was leaning against their cover for support, pistol clasped in a clammy hand. Further away, the other fighters were in much the same position, and had taken further injuries in the last battle; one angaran resistance member, the female who'd eyed him so quizzically, and another settler from Prodromos. All there was, was the disarray, the ebb and flow of battle; the loading and reloading of his weapon, the flash of blue of Lymora casting herself across the battlefield, a cataclysm dashing herself against her foes, the hum of Davendar's combat drone as it dropped back on occasion for repairs. Sliding a hand into the deep pocket at his thigh, Reyes' fingers curled around the last of his grenades. He aimed away from their, albeit temporary, allies, and threw it towards a close-knit bunch of kett. As it flung several of them into the air with a roar of sound and a shower of earth, he wondered how long this could continue before they suffered their own casualties, if he should call in their back up who were engaged elsewhere. Kicking back an anointed that was sluggishly dragging its huge weapon, attempting to skirt around the side of the barrier they were clustered behind, he very suddenly felt tight fingers grab his flightsuit at the collar, dragging him backwards.

"Get down, close your eyes!" he heard Lymora hiss.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, he acquiesced, his back knocking clumsily against Davendar's. Not a second later, a white light flared so brightly he could see the underside of his eyelids, the thin patchwork of veins staining his vision even as he reopened his eyes. From the accompanying burst of sound, a dull thud that somehow resonated around the clearing, he identified the source as a flash grenade. A number of anointed and several other of the kett that had been advancing towards them lay dead on the ground, as a hail of new gunfire thundered over the Charlatan and his Collective agents' shoulders. A moment later several brilliant figures darted past, blasting kett aside as they did so, powerful against the backdrop of weary fighters. A chosen was pulled into a pulsating blue vortex, whilst another was sliced aside by the vivid orange strike of an omni blade. It was the rest of the Pathfinder team. As a whirl of violet passed him Reyes leant out from behind their cover and reached out a grasping hand. Reyes' clutching fingers managed to ensnare the cuff of Peebee's jacket, catching her off guard so that she nearly tumbled to the ground and him with her. Davendar tutted beside him but tapped at his omni-tool so the drone defending their position dropped back in and patrolled a tighter circuit around them.
"Hey! Handsy, what do you think you're…" Peebee made to snatch her arm away before her eyes focused on his face and the look within their olive green reverted from shock to recognition, "Oh, hi Reyes, should've known you'd be here."

He glanced off her remark, tugging her downwards so as to avoid kett fire and breathed, "What's happening?"

"Our girl's going in for the kill, so we're moving in for the last push. I don't think it'll be long now," Peebee answered, the wild glint in her eye, the one he didn't quite trust, all the brighter for the excitement of battle. If she was nervous, she was hiding it remarkably well.

Reyes hesitated, still gripping unconsciously to the edge of her jacket, "Won't be long?"

"Until he dies, or we do," she shrugged, as though unconcerned.

Reyes swallowed as he contemplated her words, and for a just a moment his mind extended inside the remnant tower towards Sara, and he was met by a flickering of thousands of possible realities passing by. A knot was burgeoning in his chest before he realised what he was doing and he stopped himself, slamming the wall back up that he'd so carefully constructed to keep his mind away from the Pathfinder and the danger, the sheer impossibility of the task that rested on her shoulders.

Peebee's bright eyes roved over his face, seemingly finding delight in it somewhere as she giggled and remarked, "Ha! Look at you. The big, bad Charlatan worrying over the Pathfinder."

His fingertips slid from her jacket. Reyes laughed a little too loudly, "Worried?" Please, I'm just dying for a drink. We've been here hours."

"Peebee, what are you doing?!"

She gave Reyes a significant look before turning her back and disappearing into the fray towards the direction of the voice that had called her, that sounded like Kosta.

Her words remained in her wake, hanging in the air.

"Boss?"

A hand gripped Reyes' shoulder, and he grunted and hoisted himself upward to blast a kett chosen in the jaw.

Not an hour later, a message over the comm announced the Pathfinder team would be emerging from the remnant tower, unscathed and from what could be gathered from their scattered, excitable comments, triumphant. As the last kett fell to the floor, Reyes couldn't help it as a heady grin spread across his features, and he leant all his weight onto on side, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"I'm registering no losses, sir. All Collective agents accounted for. All ships in working order and have sustained negligible damage," Davendar was already assessing their resources and beginning his mission report.

Reyes simply nodded in response as he strode closer towards the tower, throwing himself down underneath the shade of a tree off to the side of the clearing, not far from the entrance. He pulled down the zip of his flightsuit before leaning back on one elbow, taking in great, steadying gulps of air. Similarly, the other groups that had remained to defend the tower were gathering themselves together, as smaller ships started to land about them, some arriving to collect the injured, some dropping off important figures like the turian pathfinder. Davendar dropped down close by to him, engrossed in his reports, whilst Lymora stalked around them like a restless wolf. Reyes remained where he was, leant forward, elbows on his knees, assault rifle resting against one thigh, and continued his earlier visage of the forces gathered around them. Excepting the kett bodies still piled about them, the scenery could almost be described as beautiful, sunlight cascading between gaps in the trees, refracting off the sides of the tower in a myriad of colours, the sky an arc of impossible blue above them. Reyes sighed. Perhaps if he closed his eyes, he could convince himself he was back on Earth, alone in the woods on a summer's day, not still stained with his own blood anxiously waiting for the Pathfinder to emerge from what seemed like an impossible victory that he wouldn't entirely believe until he saw her for himself.

It didn't take long before Reyes caught Kandros' eye, and he and a number of his APEX team drew nearer. Reyes didn't get up. Instead, Lymora strode forwards, cocking the butt of her gun upwards aggressively, regarding the members of APEX as though she was desperate for them to give her a reason to fire on them. There was an exchange of narrowed eyes, and an exaggerated repositioning of weapons, which Reyes simply watched coolly from the shade. Davendar glanced up briefly, disinterestedly, before returning to his work. Kandros however, looked past the asari and gave Reyes a cutting look that might have made a meeker man shudder, one that blew clean through him. He regarded Reyes like this for a few seconds, before scowling, causing his mandibles to quiver with annoyance. He jerked his head away silently, motioning for the others to follow him.

As they drew away, a turian with blood red markings muttered, "Tch, won't always be the Pathfinder's pet…"

Lymora flinched forward but Reyes called her back with a quick bark of her name. With a dissatisfied glance over her shoulder at him, she stalked off on another patrol. Reyes let her go, satisfied they were in no immediate danger. No one would threaten them after that.

Reyes leant back on his elbows, eyes glinting as he caught the familiar colours of a ship approaching as the Tempest arrived in their midst. He wondered whether its crew could illuminate him on how much longer they would have to wait.

"The Pathfinder is fond of you."

It wasn't a question and yet her tone lingered over it as if it were one, the Moshae's eyes scanning over him analytically. When she had arrived, he could not say. She was stood there, as sure and as strong as if she had always been there, rooted to the ground like a tree. Although she was alone, Reyes could see Evfra glancing over from amongst the resistance fighters now clustered outside the doorway to the tower, with a look that for him was likely pensive, but just made him look more bad-tempered than ever. In response Reyes shrugged non-committally, reluctant to respond until he knew what it was that she wanted. He used her surprised pause at his lack of an answer to get to his feet.

"And you seem fond of her," Moshae Sjefa nodded, continuing as though he'd replied.

Reyes glanced over at Davendar a few metres away. The salarian was boring a hole into his omni-tool with the focus of his gaze, however that did not mean he was not listening. When he turned back to her, the Moshae's solemn face was entirely impassive, unreadable.

"We're business partners," Reyes paused, quashing the rising urge to tell her to mind her own business, "and friends."

"Mr Vidal, though I do not claim to have an in-depth knowledge of human behavioural patterns my head is also not full of daar." Her blue eyes were sharp as blades, "And you don't give the impression you're very good at making friends."

He couldn't hide his surprise as she said his name, and he knew from the satisfied look in her eyes she had caught the expression on his face.

Reyes combed back dark hair that had become unslicked over the course of the battle from his eyes, "Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm starting to get a complex."

His stalling revealed no new emotion in Moshae Sjefa's expression. She stepped towards him almost conspiratorially, "A man should hardly be surprised that others find it difficult to trust him when he has more aliases than he does fingers on his right hand."

Reyes caught himself this time, covering his astonishment with a forced warmth, "I'm flattered, honourable Moshae, to have garnered your attention. I think, however, you may have me confused with someone else. I am but a lowly exile." No sooner had the word lowly exited his mouth she was already scoffing, intelligent eyes mocking in their disbelief. He continued slowly, "I am curious why you would be interested in my relationship with the Pathfinder, though."

She smiled, although it did not fully reach her eyes, "Sara Ryder has proven that she will be the future of what is to come in Andromeda, what path she chooses will affect all of us, even the angara."

Reyes nodded, understanding, his eyes cold, "And you think I could draw her down the wrong path."

Though she did not look abashed, her eyes darted away from his for a moment as though she were uncomfortable.

There was a sudden hubbub by the entrance to the tower and Reyes' attention flicked to it immediately. The Pathfinders were clustering by the door, along with Kandros and the crew of the Tempest that had remained behind. Without a backward glance he made towards the group, before a light hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"The Pathfinder being so intimately involved with the de facto leader of the exiles, even worse a leader that murdered the previous one. You must know that it will not go without objection. There will be consequences."

Her voice was not unkind, if anything there was more of a softness to it than in anything else she had said.

Reyes paused but didn't turn.

"Daven, send for Lymora and wait here."

He stalked off towards the tower entrance, leaving the Moshae once again without an answer.

The shoulder of her armour was scorched, she had a bleeding cut on her cheek, but she was grinning as she emerged through the doorway, supporting her injured brother. The doctor, Lexi, ran forwards cupping the Pathfinder's face as she glanced in her eyes warily, as though checking their alertness, before nodding in a satisfied way and transferring Scott's weight to her own shoulder, guiding him back towards the Tempest. Without the added weight Sara stood tall, even though she wasn't, unshakeable, even though beneath it Reyes thought she looked tired, as she blinked around at them all with a half-smile.

The Tempest's red-haired science officer, Suvi he thought her name was, moved towards Sara and the other crew members excitedly, "The word's out, everyone's elated but… the Nexus wants to know what's next? What do I tell them?"

"Tell them…" Sara glanced down, as though searching for an answer. Then she smirked mischievously at Suvi, before placing a hand on her hip and shrugging, "Tell them, let us have our moment."

Suvi giggled and nodded in response, moving to one side to embrace Liam, as the others began to congratulate each other. Sara hadn't moved. Instead she folded her arms, and grinned, grinned straight at him like there was no one else there. He found he was already smiling back, had been since he'd first caught sight of her. It will not go without objection. He frowned slightly, but only for a moment, before he winked back at her, in a way he hoped she knew meant that they'd have their own private celebration later. He turned away and let his face fall, a sigh rushing out of him he hadn't realised he was holding in. He picked his way back through the boulders that littered the clearing, nearly back to the tree Davendar, and now Lymora, were stood beneath waiting for him. Reyes stopped abruptly as he thought he heard his name, darting his head back towards the crowd. He couldn't even see Sara. She was surrounded by members of her crew, embraced, clasped, loved, by what he realised was her family. A family he was not part of. Not that he wanted to be. A family wasn't something he even knew how to be part of.

Reyes was about to leave but remained, unmoving, as suddenly Sara extricated herself from Drack's tremendous grip and purposefully marched towards him, "Hey, flyboy!"

At her call he twisted his body back towards her as with a laugh she sped up to a jog, and he realised almost too late what her intentions were. Reyes nearly stumbled backwards as he caught her hips, her chest knocking into his with such a force that she winded him, bruised ribs and all, knocking a choked laugh from his throat as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Reyes grasped her thighs underneath, so she wouldn't slide down his body as she slipped her arms around his neck, soft fingertips sliding through his hair at the nape. For a moment her face looked uncertain, eyes regarding his carefully, aware that he might not welcome such an open display of affection.

There will be consequences.

Why didn't he care?

The look he gave her must have been enough to allay her doubts however, as a smile broke over her features. It was only a small curve of her lips, but her eyes glistened like sunlight catching the swell of a wave. He brought one hand up to her face, balancing her precariously, pulling her mouth against his, and he could feel his heart beating in his neck as he kissed her. As her tongue met his it had the bitter taste of blood, though her lips were so welcome upon his it did not ruin their sweetness.

"Think you can stop throwing yourself into life-threatening situations now?" he mumbled against her lips, only half aware of what he was saying.

She tugged at the collar of his flightsuit, pulling herself closer, "I don't know, you seem so pleased to see me."

Then she was kissing him again, tongue flicking across his lips, clinging onto his flightsuit even as her thighs slid further down his waist, boots scraping his ankles until her feet were planted back on the floor. Now he was no longer holding her up, his free hand found a place at her lower back as she arced into him, one hand still at his neck, nails scraping his hairline with a slight sting. He grazed her bottom lip with his teeth in response, catching her sharp intake of breath with his mouth. Just as he was wondering how it was she still tasted so fucking good after a day of fighting kett, a voice interrupted them.

"Mr Vidal. Pathfinder. There are several people watching you, as well as a camera recording you in holoview," SAM's voice announced, playing through Sara's omni-tool.

"Oh," Sara breathed, and they withdrew from one another, but Reyes' hand remained on the small of her back, "can't get any privacy these days."

As SAM has claimed, there was more than one head turned their way with interest, though thankfully people not in their immediate vicinity were still distracted with their own merriment. Reyes caught the Moshae's eye for a moment, looking over at them amidst her conversation with the salarian pathfinder, but her face betrayed none of her thoughts.

"You did not choose to embrace Mr Vidal in a particularly private place," SAM retorted, the tone of his voice closer to chiding than an AI's really ought to be. "Due to Mr Vidal's proclivity for secrecy, I have wiped the camera's memory. Fortunately, all observers are either already had previous knowledge of your relationship or are in positions in which their professions require the strictest confidence. I do suggest, however, that if you do not wish for Mr Vidal to come under closer scrutiny in future you keep your… impulses indoors from now on Pathfinder."

As she listened to him speak, a sheepish smile formed on Sara's face, "I'm sorry SAM. I'll try to contain myself and my 'impulses' from now on."

Reyes chuckled, "Thanks SAM. Never thought I'd say this, but it's good to hear your voice. Did you enjoy your little vacation from the Pathfinder's brain?"

"No, Mr Vidal. I did not," SAM responded, firmly.

Sara grinned, "SAM, he's teasing you."

"I know. I am currently calculating a multitude of possibilities for revenge, one of which includes an elaborate firework display above Kadara Port that reveals Mr Vidal's true identity in fluorescent colours."

Reyes raised an eyebrow, "Sara. You're a bad influence on him."

He found it very difficult to resist kissing her again to smother her counter-argument.