I realise there is a part of this chapter that may be slightly triggering for some readers, so I thought I'd pop this in as a bit of a warning. There's some implied intention of sexual assault, also with drugging and canon-typical violence.

Summary at the end in case anyone does want to skip this one.

Life outside of active duty in Andromeda was a strange thing, unnerving in its unpredictability, its unfamiliarity. Wearing her own clothes, not armour or an Initiative uniform, walking around without companions at her heel, boarding a transport to the Nexus docks alone. Somehow Ryder went unnoticed, hood of her jacket pulled up over her instantly recognisable, vibrant red hair, collar high over her chin, training her eyes towards the wall of the transport, body angled away from the assembled commuters and tourists and diplomats. Once she reached the bustle of the docks, she scanned for a shuttle marked with a yellow cuff on the wing, the one Vetra had told her to look out for. Her eyes trailed over the coordinated rows of ships, engineers and deck hands in Initiative uniform weaving in between them, talking with pilots and passengers, registering vehicles, assessing any damages. It could not be less like the disorganised clusterfuck of the port at her destination and for some reason that made her feel all the gladder to be leaving it. It was all too clean, too bright, too… officious. When had that happened? When had she become more comfortable in the presence of pirate and exiles? She shrugged her mind away from the idea that it was because she no longer knew how to be around normal people. Not after months of killing, months of fighting and kicking and screaming at everything that turned a weapon, or a fist, or a claw against her…

As soon as she had identified the stripe of mustard, she stepped towards the shuttle, gaze darting away from curious glances that analysed the lone figure with familiar poster-girl bright blue eyes and a posture, a set to her shoulders that did not invite inspection and thereby provoked more interest. She boarded the ship with just a swift nod to the pilot (who was surprisingly young looking with lilac markings curving over her mandibles and bright eyes) and a pointed tap of her omni-tool to indicate she'd paid her the necessary credits, and then they were away. It was not the steadiest of flights. Although the turian was not an incapable pilot and the journey was made all the easier without the added difficulty of having to navigate around the scourge, the fact remained the shuttle was not the Tempest. Instead of the Tempest's steady hum, seemingly motionless in its stability, the shuttle shook like they were caught in a sandstorm on Eos. After anxious minutes spent rebuckling her seatbelt, tapping her fingers against her knee, twisting her mother's ring between her fingers, they were safely travelling at FTL. Ryder let her body relax a little, pacing the narrow space behind the cockpit to stretch her legs whilst sharing pleasantries with the pilot, whose green eyes reminded her a little of Peebee when she turned and cast them briefly Ryder's way. The way she chatted animatedly also reminded her of the asari as Ryder learnt an inordinate amount of information about her in a very short period of time - how she knew Vetra through her sister, how it would take a couple of hours to reach Kadara, how Andromeda was finally shaping up to be what they'd hoped for, thanks for that Pathfinder, how it was an absolute honour to meet her, could she perhaps sign the wing tip as she jumped out? Although the girl chattered like a songbird she had enough about her not to ask the obvious question – what was the Pathfinder doing flying alone to Kadara? – however, she did cast Ryder long, curious gazes when she thought she wouldn't notice. Ryder settled back into her seat, taking slow breaths in an attempt to tame the giddy frazzle of nerves that had been building since their departure. Eventually, the repeated back and forth vibration of the ship and the seat beneath her, the brilliant cascade of stars streaming past the cockpit window, lulled Ryder into an almost-doze, the silence punctuated only by the slight rattle of the thrusters and the vague music drifting over to her from the cockpit. She had to admit, although it was weird, certainly, not reporting to anyone, not being obligated to do something, it felt… freeing. Since the battle for Meridian, for the galaxy, she'd had little reprieve thanks to the fact she was almost certain Tann had caught wind of something going on between the Pathfinder and the Charlatan and did not at all like it. Just as likely was the fact he knew he could do nothing directly about it, so he'd been making her pay by sending her on the most menial of 'urgent' errands (pockets of kett that could've been attended to by APEX teams, distress signals that led her on extended chases) that took her entirely away from Kadara, so much so that following her five days shore leave she would have to remain on the planet anyway to clear up a lot of loose ends she'd been unable to attend to due to Tann's insufferable meddling. Not that she minded that of course. Depends how pleased he is to see me. An anxious knot of bunched nerves twisted in her stomach.

She flicked through the messages on her omni-tool distractedly.

Shore leave.

To: Reyes Vidal
From: Ryder

Did you mean what you said? Because if so, I think I can swing a few free days next week.

Or, y'know, you can just play with your dick on your own instead. No hard feelings as long as you promise to look a bit forlorn while you do it.

Sara

She'd never reworded and retyped an email so many times, editing out the nervousness, the vulnerability of her first messages. What they'd had so far had been circumstantial, heated and of the moment. Yes, they'd maintained a steady stream of flirty (so much so she was now very careful about where she talked to him) exchanges both over voice call and via messages, but this was different. This was Ryder going out of her way to see him, to stay with him, and that somehow made this undefined something real. Really real. Who knew what Reyes was going to do with that?

Re: Shore Leave

To: Ryder
From: Reyes Vidal

When I said Kadara would love to have you? Yes.

Reyes

Then, received two minutes later than the last message:

Re: Shore Leave

To: Ryder
From: Reyes Vidal

… Did you not get the subtext? That I would be having you instead?

I'm disappointed in you,

Reyes

Re: Re: Shore Leave

To: Reyes Vidal
From: Ryder

I got the subtext you ass.

I'm looking forward to it…

Sara

Re: Re: Re: Shore Leave

To: Ryder
From: Reyes Vidal

Me too.

Reyes

Ryder took a steadying breath attempting to calm the hammering of her heart as she reread their words, as she considered the implications behind them.

"Pathfinder, are you sure this is a good idea?"

She ignored him.

"There are a lot of variables that could prove dangerous."

"That's the fourth time you've mentioned it SAM. Don't worry your thoughts are on record."

His words brought a bemused smile to her lips as she wondered at how much he'd changed, how he'd picked up her sarcasm, how he'd begun to generate his own opinions that sometimes varied from her own.

With an impatient sigh, she rocked her head back and closed her eyes.

Her vision was red, but not like seeing through the scarlet of her hair, it was a dark crimson yet with a glow, a heat behind it that was like opening her eyes against the blaze of the midday sun. Choking, her breaths rasped as she inhaled lungfuls of smoke and she could feel it cloying on the inside of her throat. She pressed her hands against what felt like ground and as her fingers dug in there was earth sliding between her fingernails, but that was impossible because she'd been… she'd been on a ship… And there was a sound, a sound was repeating in her ear, a buzz that was becoming louder and louder until it was ear-splitting.

"SARA, MOVE."

Ryder staggered to her feet, ankles, thighs, stiff as she rose, stumbling against something hard and burning hot that clanged as her weight fell against it. Everything was dark, suffocating, thick smoke pressing in on her as she staggered forwards blindly. She caught her shoulder on something that seared her barriers, the barriers she didn't even remember putting up. At this realisation, her biotic fields glowed all the brighter, the blue-violet glaring against the roils of the blackened fog that surrounded her.

"Keep moving," SAM continued.

She did as she was bidden, limbs tucked into her body, staggering until she reached an absolute, opaque expanse that could be either a wall or the door to what she presumed was the shuttle. Without outward movement, she reached, gingerly at first, towards the vibrating root of power that existed without physical form yet still very much present, at the centre of her being. Her biotics snarled with desperate, restrained energy as she struck out at the obstacle in front of her. She felt the force burst from her fingertips as it tore the metal aside, immense power flowing from her easily, the way it always seemed to work in excess whenever her life was threatened. Ryder took several steps forward, through the gaping hole and out of it, before her legs buckled and she fell to her knees, gasping as fresh air filled her lungs, rushing passed her cracked lips. She dropped her head against the ground, breathing against it for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, sewing back together the patchwork of memories that was the last 48 hours. Saying goodbye to the rest of her team, an overnight stay at the Nexus, the shuttle to Kadara then… blackness… Ryder spluttered as she sat up, throat still slick and sticky with ash, wiping the blood from her vision with her sleeve and casting her eyes about her. There was a low sun in the sky casting the scene around her in dark pink hues and over the mountains that carved black chunks out of the sky either side of her. Although it was evening, the cracked earth beneath her hands was still warm with the last caresses of the day's heat, and there was no soft breeze to relieve the residual warmth that remained on her skin, that stuck her clothes to her back.

Ryder croaked out a laugh of relief, "We made it to Kadara."

"Yes, Pathfinder. We're at Spirit's Ledge."

She shifted her weight forwards, dragging her scorched jacket from her shoulders and discarding it on the ground, "What happened, SAM?"

"A projectile was fired at your vehicle which caused the crash. I am analysing the trajectory now to assess its point of origin."

Ryder reached instinctively for the pistol at her hip only to find she wasn't even wearing a gun belt. She hissed in annoyance, "This was deliberate, someone knew I was coming."

She glanced back the shuttle, or what was left of it. The combat gear she had packed 'just in case' was still trapped with the confines of the burning vehicle, which was by now nearly entirely engulfed in flames.

"I will contact Ditaeon and ask them to send combat personnel to our position-"

Ryder shook her head, wincing when this sent a searing pain through it, "Ow, ah… no, I'll contact Reyes, the Collective are better equipped and we're closer to the port."

"Pathfinder, there is every possibility that someone within the Collective knew you were coming and set this up."

Delicately Ryder ran her fingers up along her forehead, sweeping her bloody fringe out of the way. She could feel torn skin, a cut curving over her eyebrow, the area around it sensitive to the touch as though it were bruising. She just hoped she wouldn't have a cracking black eye to match.

"Reyes will have thought of that."

SAM was silent for a moment, then, "Pathfinder, there is an unregistered vehicle inbound. I will contact Mr Vidal as you have requested as you will likely need to concentrate on readying yourself for combat."

"Brilliant," Ryder murmured, dragging herself to her feet, trying to ignore the sweep of nausea that accompanied the motion. Now adrenaline was ebbing from her body, the stinging sensation in her forehead was growing worse and she had to set her teeth to stop them from jittering.

Ryder squeezed her fingers in her palms and with a grunt flared her biotics into life, hoping the purple blaze about her would be enough to make her look intimidating despite the obvious injury to her head and the rips in her tight jumpsuit. The tight jumpsuit that, now she was no longer wearing a jacket over it, revealed the curves and lines of her body, highlighted by the white trim at the edges that separated the black. The tight jumpsuit that Cora and Suvi had helped her pick out, and that Peebee had said was definitely the sort of outfit you should wear when confronting your undefined something of a lover about defining it as something. The tight jumpsuit that was definitely not what she would've chosen had she known her shuttle would be taking a nose dive into the planet's surface shortly before she was hurtled into battle, hackles raised, with only biotics, luck and grit on her side.

"SAM, my head fucking hurts but I don't feel… I feel like I should feel worse."

"Yes. You should be dead."

"Also brilliant."

A vehicle, similar to the Nomad but an older, dirtier model without any brands that identified it as belonging to any particular group was approaching up the dirt track of the incline she was stood upon. She set her shoulders back, trying to quell the agitated twitch in her hands, the weight in her chest and how very small she felt without her armour.

"The initial impact of the projectile must have caused the blow to your head, rendering you unconscious. But the wound is mostly superficial, as is the bleeding. Your barriers must have activated instinctively as you suffered no damage from the crash."

At his words Ryder glanced about the wreckage surrounding her. To one side, part of the cockpit had detached along with the pilot's seat, next to which she could see just beyond it a body laid on the ground. A soft exhale escaped her lips at the sight.

"She died on impact. I'm sorry."

"I didn't even know her name," Ryder responded quietly.

"Nilia, Nilia Prevetus. I will inform Vetra of her death and request that settlers from Ditaeon retrieve her body."

Ryder nodded then gritted her teeth as the approaching vehicle pulled up several metres in front of her, the shriek of the brakes jarring, sending another pulse of pain through her aching head. She resisted the reflex to rock back onto one foot.

"Well, well," a voice called, crooned, mocked, "what have we here?"

Ryder spat on the ground, trying to rid her mouth of the black taste.

Four figures emerged from the vehicle, each armed and showy with it. At the fore was a burly, skin-headed human, his small eyes roving over her form, dissecting her through the seams of her torn jumpsuit. Slung showily over his meaty shoulder was a Cobra missile launcher and Ryder didn't need SAM's confirmation in her ear to tell her that was the weapon that had been used to down her shuttle. Behind him were three other exiles, an asari with a scar that started at her chin and ended on the opposite side of her forehead and two turians, one of whom had a limp. They paused and stood to form a line, weapons loose in their slackened grips, the same dogged expression on each of their faces. Finding her on her feet had clearly not surprised them, nor had the display of her biotics. This implied they had knowledge enough about her to have expected this outcome. Only the asari looked wary.

"If that's your opening gambit, you'll have to do better than that to impress me," Ryder replied scathingly, anger, anger for the poor young dead turian chipping her words like they were being cut into a headstone.

"No. My opening gambit was crashing your ship," the human grinned, exposing a mouth overpopulated by teeth.

She assessed the group overtly, pointedly roving her eyes over each of their faces as they had done hers. Apart from the Cobra they were equipped with a couple of assault rifles and the asari had a pistol. Nothing out of the ordinary for raiders. Nothing that worried her.

"So, you're responsible for the death of this girl?" Ryder asked starting to slowly approach them, rolling her fingers over spheres of biotic energy, each burning voraciously like a wildfire. She could feel the element zero coursing through her, humming through her veins, remember the pure thrill of releasing it. It was almost dizzying.

The asari sniggered nastily, "Who?"

"The pilot," Ryder replied, tone sanguine even as her fingertips twitched, as she had to bite back the craving to let go, to engulf them in a single Nova bomb, to puncture and crush and hurt.

"Sara, your heart rate is elevated."

"You worry too much SAM," she muttered.

"Ha! You praying to yourself, girl?" the human called, the way his tongue slid over his teeth as he spoke causing a horrible twist in her gut. "Thought the Pathfinder would have more balls."

Ryder stopped in front of them, mass effect fields weaving through her hands as she clasped and unclasped them. Thankfully her voice portrayed a confidence her tensed limbs didn't, "I can arrange for yours to fit inside your throat if you like."

"How about if I shove them down yours instead?" he jeered back triumphantly, the dying sunlight flecking his eyes in a ring of molten sand.

The turian to his right shifted, crimson streaked mandibles twitching in a way that suggested his amusement, "From what I hear she'd probably enjoy it, practically gagged on the Charlatan's sack just for that pathetic outpost."

Ryder looked at the turian sharply, the hair that had fallen, lank and charred from her bun licking her neck. There was no trace of any further meaning in his words, no look of sly knowing, of an understanding in his narrow yellow eyes. His words were entirely coincidental and he, likely they, had no idea of the Charlatan's true identity. Without warning she dragged the turian towards her with a blue flick of her wrist, casting him several feet into the air before slamming him bodily into the ground. As he spiralled he lost control of his limbs, one of his arms catching and folding beneath him, cracking satisfyingly under his weight. Weaponless, he twisted in agony on the ground.

Ryder cocked her head to one side coyly despite the venom that simmered beneath, "Oh, so you're outcasts?"

Like their vehicle, their simple armour was unadorned by any symbols that affiliated them with the group, but it was easy enough to deduce from their ire for the Charlatan.

"See," the asari hissed, voice heavy, "there's no taking her back, she needs to die now. For Sloane."

"That's not part of the plan," the thick-necked human grunted as he slung the cumbersome weapon over his back in exchange for a battered assault rifle.

"Perhaps it would be worth revising your plans?" Ryder's gaze flicked between their weapons as she spoke. Although her barrier could take the brunt of their fire, it would be preferable to avoid a direct hit at this range as the force of the impact would surely penetrate through. "You know I don't have to slaughter the rest of you. I've had a bit of a rough day. So, if you could tell me who masterminded this shitshow, because it clearly wasn't you, then, well... I mean I'm not going to let you go, but I could just arrest you instead of ensuring you spend your last moments getting intimate with your innards."

The end of her sentence was punctuated by the turian groaning in the dust, writhing at her feet.

The outcasts exchanged glances before their eyes darted back to her suspiciously. It was difficult to detect the message this carried between them but she thought she there was a welcome edge of fear in their gazes, and they had all raised their weapons.

Ryder rolled her eyes affectedly, "I'm going to shove your heads up your asses? Create some sort of ouroboros... Outcast ouroboros..?" She shook her head, "But I digress. Short version: tell me what I want to know, or I'll kill you. Painfully. "

"You're not armed," the human levelled at her.

Ryder laughed, and it was a laugh so cold it surprised even her, the memory of the pilot's hollow gaze fueling her scorn, "Tell your friend that."

"Look, you may think because you've made yourself the Charlatan's whor-"

The remaining turian's words were cut off as he went soaring into the air in a purple haze, his progress only halted as he smashed into the cliff face that rose to their left. The sound this made caused the remaining man in front of her to flinch and the asari to blink furiously.

"You know, I've been in situations like this time and time again." Ryder paced back and forth in front of the asari and the human, stepping on and over the previously floored turian's torso as she did so. Still conscious, but barely, he grimaced beneath her weight. "Really, it ultimately results in who will crack first. I know who my bets are on."

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of the human's bald head as he readjusted the rifle in his hands. As her focus shifted to the asari Ryder realised her mistake. There was no such trepidation in her demeanour, no hesitation. She should have cut all the bluster and gotten rid of the asari first. The asari flexed her shoulders almost imperceptibly, but it gave Ryder just enough chance to anticipate her as the asari adjusted her grip on the pistol and released all the shots held in the clip. Ryder had already raised her hand, the bullets melting against the force of her biotics like raindrops easily consumed by flames. With a growl the asari leapt forwards, unfurling her own biotics and attempting to lift Ryder from the ground, flickers of blue and purple deepening the shadowy groove down her face, her eyes flickering and turning hot white with power. Ryder flinched out a hand, flinging the asari upwards and into the sky even as the pathfinder's own legs were ripped out from under her. She was held aloft, only a few inches off the ground thanks to her own defences, before tipping backwards and falling hard on her back. There was a long, agonized shriek and then a sickening thud that confirmed the asari had met a worse fate than she. But this was no victory. Thick, sinuous fingers scrabbled at the back of her neck, raking a painful path through the hair at her nape before fastening around the collar of Ryder's jumpsuit. Roughly she was pulled upwards, suspended so she was rocked back on her heels, stumbling to regain a true footing.

The remaining outcast pressed his face to hers, wolf-like features alight with a grin. He holstered the assault rifle, "You were saying?"

Furiously, frantically, she reared back, twisting, fighting against his grip. Ryder pulled her arm back for a biotic punch, her fist the centre of a flame, when something pierced her side. It didn't hurt severely but it was a small, sharp shock combined with a cool sensation that made her hand jump to the affected area. Her fingertips pawed, fumbled at the something sticking in her side until she gained purchase and tugged it out, raising it to her eyes. The outcast let go of her and she found herself staggering backwards, feet sliding in the dust, staring at the hypodermic needle in her hands. The attached syringe was empty. It had been injected right through the thin material of her clothing, somehow penetrating her barrier and into the skin at her waist.

"Wh-what?" her voice trickled out of her, no more than a whisper.

Then a heavy boot met her chest and she was spent sprawling in the dirt, needle clattering onto the ground beside her as her hand jumped to meet the abrupt scream of pain in her collarbone. Instinctively she threw her other hand in front of her, desperately trying to put some space between them, to throw the man backwards. But nothing happened. The familiar tingle of her biotics at her fingertips was absent, as was the connection to it that had always existed deep within, one she could never remember having lived without. Instead, there was emptiness, like someone had carved out her core.

"What did you-"

The outcast lunged forward, a massive hand catching hold of her by the throat, thumb pressing down on her windpipe stopping her words, suspending her breathing. The outcast was leant over her heavily, a knee between her thighs.

"You'd have been better off with the others alive," his thin lips drew back over his too many teeth in a sickening leer, "rather than being left alone with me."

Panicking, struggling for breath Ryder pushed at his chest to no avail, fingers scuffing at his jacket, his sheer bulk immovable. SAM's voice was chiming in her head but it was hard to make sense of it. Whether it was from the lack of oxygen to her brain or the shock of losing her biotics she felt addled, dazed liked she'd hit her head for a second time.

"Not much point struggling, little bird, your biotics are fucked after that shot I gave you. By the time you can use them again, you'll be dead," the human continued, although he lessened the pressure of his thumb allowing her to take several fast breaths, heartbeat still thudding in her ears.

Her vision was filled with him, wide-set eyes watching her face with rapture as he held her trapped beneath him, the grimy bristles along his chin, the skin of his cheeks covered with large pores and callouses. This couldn't be it, he couldn't, wouldn't, be one of the last things she saw.

"The Charlatan," Ryder spluttered, grasping for something, anything, "I can tell you who they are."

The human's eyes widened, cheek twitching with obvious excitement as he leant closer, "Who?"

Playing on his distraction, Ryder pulled her knee violently upwards and buried it into his crotch. Although unaided by biotics it was still enough to cause him to screech and curse in agony as she rolled swiftly, desperately out from under him. Ryder threw herself to her feet, though her steps still felt oddly uncoordinated. She saw the asari's dropped pistol several metres away and she staggered towards it, but it was like the ground beneath her was rising to meet the sky and then her hands were pressed in the dirt and there was the taste of dry grass in her mouth. Something gripped her ankle hard and dragged her backwards, away from the pistol, her nails tearing grass, leaving grooves in the earth. Ryder twisted her body with a snarl, kicking out at the fingers that gripped her ankle with her free foot, repeatedly stamping against fingers until the hand slackened and let go.

"You're going to pay for that, you and that fucking smart mouth are going to pay..." the outcast stood over her, reaching for her again. Ryder was already scuttling backwards, trying to rise to her feet but her ankles felt like weights, her arms, which were meant to be pushing her up, folding at the elbow. She realised her entire body was shaking, and although she was afraid, very, very afraid, it wasn't because of that, it was like the shakes she'd get if she didn't eat enough calories, when her own biotics ate away at the last scraps of her energy reserves instead. He was bearing down on her, victorious sneer in place, ravenous gaze boring into hers, telling her she was alone, telling her she was fucked, telling her there was nothing she could do... Until a panic bloomed behind his eyes, starting as a tiny glimmer amongst the dark of his irises, until it slowly wormed its way over his thickset features. Her hand had reached the gun behind her. Fighting against the sickening stupor that was taking over her body, sick from whatever it was he'd injected into her with, or perhaps sick with the sheer force of her fear and rage, she wrenched the gun upwards and pointed it in his face.

"Back up," she ordered, words rasping like his fingers were still around her throat, "back the fuck away from me. Now."

As he stepped away, the outcast raised his massive hands in a compliant gesture, Ryder rose to her feet, legs trembling, sweat beading along her scalp. The gun was practically jumping in her hands. Something was very wrong.

"What is in this shit, what did you do?" Ryder spat as she realised how fast she was breathing, that there were spots of light dancing in her vision. "You know what, doesn't matter, you won't know you're a fucking lackey. May as well as just get it over with."

"I'll tell you... I'll tell you what you want to know. About who sent me... all of it..." the outcast practically squirmed, his eyes not leaving the gun pointed at his face, "you said... you said you'd just arrest us if we complied."

"I did. But you didn't comply like a good fucking dog, did you?" Ryder glanced over at the turian on the ground close by, "SAM, is he still alive?"

"Yes, Pathfinder."

"Great," she looked back at the human, "don't need you then do I?"

"Wait... you..."

"Pathfinder. He may have additional information the other one does not-"

"SAM, I'm not letting this absolute piece of nathak excrement-"

The outcast's head exploded in a burst of crimson and his body fell away from her, the large expanse of him meeting the ground, sending a plume of bloodied sand scattering into the air.

"... live," she finished aghast.

Her finger hadn't squeezed the trigger.

"Pathfinder!"

She whipped around. Cascading over the ascent were a number of people whom she quickly identified as Collective as she saw who was accompanying them, whose voice she had recognised as soon as she heard it. For the moment though, she was more interested in the woman at his side, the grim-faced asari who was holding a rifle aloft, still pointed at the spot the outcast member had stood in just a second before. Ryder staggered towards her, past the Collective members who were striding over the check the bodies and investigate the wreckage, past Reyes who turned to greet her with a closed expression. The asari was lowering her gun, and couldn't have anticipated the Pathfinder grabbing her suddenly, violently, by the collar.

"He was mine," Ryder hissed, her nose so close to the asari's they almost bumped together.

"Well, you were taking your sweet time about it. The Charlatan's orders were to kill anyone threatening the Pathfinder's life and when we got here he had you on your ass," the asari shrugged, nonchalantly. Although her words were casual, her eyes were daring her to start something. Do it. Do it Nexus scum.

"Lymora, take it easy." Reyes barked sharply before Ryder felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, "Sara, we aren't your enemy..."

She let go of the asari and span around angrily, ready to scream and rage at him instead, but she lost it somewhere between his fingers tightening over her arm and the blaze of those almond eyes intent on hers, the honey at the centre bright with the light of the setting sun.

She exhaled sharply, "He was... he was mine to kill, Reyes."

There was a silence as she became aware of about a dozen Collective agents looking in their direction, waiting for their leader's reaction. Reyes' eyes flicked over to them and back to her again.

His face was harder than usual as he holstered his own weapon at his hip before returning his hand quickly to her shoulder, "Take anyone alive back to headquarters for questioning and search the corpses for anything valuable."

None of them moved. Ryder glanced at the closest, a human who she recognised at the gunman that killed Sloane, and realised he was staring at the pistol still clutched in her hand.

"I'm not going to shoot anybody, you can calm down," she practically growled, still all adrenaline and weariness.

At her words, the Collective members began to move past them silently, Lymora casting her a dark look which caused Reyes to tighten his grip on Ryder's arm to stop her stalking after the asari. As he did so he muttered so only Ryder could hear, "I'll talk to her. Later."

Ryder took a few steadying breaths. It felt as though the world was still quaking around her, so she gripped at the pocket of his flight jacket to anchor herself there. There was a flicker in his expression as he watched this gesture, but he didn't say anything.

She scowled, "What's their problem?"

Reyes nodded in the direction of the fallen outcast members, "Probably scared shitless."

"I meant what I said," Ryder pressed him, pushing against his chest insistently then immediately regretting it as this made her feel all the more light-headed. "I don't care if you're angry with me. He was mine and I fucking wanted to kill him. I wanted to."

"I know you did." Reyes caught her chin, a ghost of a wry smile on his face, "I'm not angry," his thumb brushed her cheek, "well, I'm not angry with you."

Then he was looking her over, face still inscrutable at first, moving her loose hair aside with velvet fingertips as he assessed the cut on her head. His eyes didn't quite meet hers until they did, briefly, and then they were wary, wary in a way that made her feel like something fragile.

"Reyes?"

His jaw was clenched and he had drawn her so close she could pick apart individual, dark eyelashes. They flickered over to where the last outcast bled into the dirt and for a brief moment there was an intensity in his eyes that caused her to squeeze his arm, seeking to bring warmth even through his jacket.

"I'm alright. They didn't hurt me, not really."

She tried her best to make her voice sound firm, though nothing about her felt firm, everything felt vague, her body still jittering in his grasp.

"SAM told me what was happening, said you were injected with something to suppress your biotics..." his fingers curled tightly in her hair, "Sara, I.."

As much as she wanted to draw closer to him, it was like everything was suddenly too close, confining, suffocatingly warm. As she pulled away she couldn't quite make out his reaction, his face becoming increasingly more indistinct, blurry at the edges.

An overwhelming wave of nausea swept over her and she rocked back on her feet, "Something's wrong…"

Everything had become darker and she felt herself slipping downwards. Ryder caught hold of Reyes' shoulder to steady herself even as he must have caught her, arms hooking beneath hers to hoist her upwards as she found her footing again. But her vision was dim, black around the edges until it had narrowed to a needlepoint and all she could see was a fraction of his face, paler than usual, then the material of his jacket, her eyes fixating on one of the fastenings. As she reached to touch it, it disappeared entirely into blackness and she was falling again.

She jerked up violently, breaths gasping out in great pants, eyes flicking about a room that was unfamiliar in its semi-darkness. The thin light that shone through it suggested it was early morning, and as her eyes became more accustomed charcoal tones gave way to lighter shades of silver, and she realised where she was. There was a desk at the foot of the double bed scattered with datapads, a half-drunk bottle of whisky perched on one of the corners and a flightjacket thrown over the back of the chair that tucked underneath it. It was Reyes' room. The shutters over the large windows onto the balcony were open a fraction, aqua rays of light streaking in from a neon sign attached to a building adjacent. Gingerly, Ryder swung her legs over the edge of the bed. There was no accompanying dizziness, no blurring of her vision, and so she slid onto her feet carefully. She turned her palm upwards, skin pale in the gloom, flexing her fingers slightly as with an almost crippling sense of dread, she reached for the root of power at her core. Though it seemed to take a little longer than it usually would, her frantic heartbeat counting the seconds, it was all the more powerful a rush when it responded, a blue-white orb of energy expanding out of her hand and over her skin, until her barrier hummed about her almost electric in its ferocity. Ryder exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, rocking back on one foot as raw relief flooded her. She emitted a strangled laugh, high-pitched in its relief, its fervour.

"Sara?"

Her eyes flicked towards the open doorway opposite the window. Reyes had emerged from it, the flare of her biotics causing rivulets of light to catch in the dark locks of his hair and drawing shadowy lines across the muscle of his bare chest

Reyes scrubbed his eyes with his palms, "You do choose your moments, I swear I nipped out for a second…"

"My biotics… they're not gone… they're back," Ryder breathed in response, words still tripping over each other

"Of course they are. Ryota said it might take a few hours and you've been out longer than that. According to him, you had a particularly nasty reaction to it. You would," he shook his head, before drawing nearer to her, "hence the passing out, and the vomiting everywhere…"

She took a moment to place the name Ryota, before remembering him as the doctor she'd retrieved the Oblivion drug formula for, then caught up with everything Reyes had just said.

"I didn't," Ryder paled, the light that shimmered about her dulling to nothing as she allowed her barrier to ebb away.

"You did all over my bathroom, and a bit on me."

Now he was in front of her she could see that despite the dark circles beneath his eyes, gleeful lines creased his cheeks.

"But I don't remember…"

"Another side effect apparently. That, oh and yes, you repeatedly telling me that you want a summer wedding and wondering if they'd build any schools on Kadara…" He must have seen the abject horror in her expression, and he relented, "No, no I'm kidding. You were far too busy being sick to talk."

Ryder punched him on the arm lightly, face practically scorching with embarrassment, "Dickhead!"

"It even went in my hair…"

"You… I…" she spluttered, certain that her face was about as red as the trees on Elaaden.

Warm fingers encircled her forearm and she felt them shake as he laughed, "No, still kidding, you were surprisingly neat for someone so completely out of it, remind me never to get you steaming drunk though."

"Such a fucking ass…" Ryder muttered under her breath, not feeling half as cross as she sounded.

"Sara, is that any way to treat the man who was up half the night looking after you?"

Even in the semi-darkness, she caught his grin.

"I'm sure there was something in it for you," she began, but partway through her sentence, her voice lost its teasing scepticism as his thumb trailed over the bone of her wrist. "Although I suppose, you did come to help... even if it did get a little... heated."

"Are you still intent on killing my best agent?" Reyes asked, his thumb sliding down over the jutting bones of her knuckles, the sensation covering her arms in gooseflesh.

"I won't kill her... But I think I'd better avoid her for a while."

Reyes nodded back at her, his expression still obscured in the gloom. He moved back towards the edge of the bed and sat down, tugging her wrist in a silent invitation for her to join him. Ryder allowed herself to be guided, shifting her knees up onto the bed and sliding alongside him, folding her legs beneath her.

His breath was warm on her neck as he turned to her, eyes outlined in hard shadow but somehow softer within, "And you're... alright?"

This sudden proximity after so long without him was dizzying. Even though she could barely see him she was intensely aware of the fact that neither of them was wearing little more than underwear, aware of the warm weight of his hand on the small of her back, aware of the smell of his neck as she inclined her head closer.

She pressed her lips against the line of his chin, "I'm fine now."

He made a pleased sound in his throat and eased them both backwards onto the bed, until her limbs were entangled in both him and the blankets and her chin was against his collarbone.

"Do you think you can manage to not get hurt tomorrow, gorgeous? I don't want to spend all day following you around with a stretcher," he hummed lazily into her ear, punctuating the question with a playful nip at her throat, draping an arm over her waist.

"No promises."

Summary: Ryder's shuttle crashes and she's attacked by outcast members. She kills all but one who injects her with a substance that suppresses her biotics. As she about to kill him the Collective arrive and Lymora shoots and kills the remaining (creepy jerk) outcast member. Ryder is pissed off. She passes out due to the weird shit she's injected with and wakes up in Reyes' apartment. Ryder is relieved at being able to use her biotics again, and Reyes is relieved (less obviously) that she is ok.