Nihlus grumbled when Shepard tried to pay, then led the way down to the water's edge. Shepard gripped his arm to balance while she kicked off her shoes. Not wanting to carry them, she tucked them under the stairs out of view.

Grinning, she dug her toes into the sand, her eyes slipping closed as its warmth trickled over her skin. "Aw, man, that's gorgeous." She laughed, self-consciousness making her cheeks burn. She moaned in pleasure, slippery beads of polished silica dancing between her toes.

"Would you and the sand like to be alone?" he asked, mandibles flicking playfully.

She looked up, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't know, we just met. Maybe later." Nodding toward the water, she grinned. "Come on. I'll save you if you somehow lose all coordination, fall in, and flail your way out into water deep enough to drown in."

He chuckled and followed her down to where the waves lapped at the sand. "I'm not afraid of water, and I can actually swim pretty well." He flashed a wry smile. "Well, for a race of drowners." Still, he let her walk in the low surf, keeping to mostly dry ground.

Shepard looked up at the Nos Astra skyline towering in the distance before returning her attention to kicking her toes through the warm, foamy water. "This city seems to have the best of both worlds."

"And the worst of many others," he said, the words rolling out on a heavy layer of disgust. "The asari try to convince the galaxy that Illium is a paradise of commerce and freedom, but the dark side here sinks deep enough that even after all my cycles as a Spectre, it still terrifies me." He shuddered. "This place swallows people whole and never lets them go."

"So basically Omega on a planetary scale, but lacking the good grace to just look as ugly and corrupt as it is." She nodded at his flanged hum of agreement. "Fifty years ago, my people looked up at the stars and imagined wondrous things awaited us out amongst them. I think that had they known how much more of the same awaited us . . . crime, injustice, starvation, overcrowding . . . they might have written space travel off as a bad idea."

Nihlus's bare talons slipped around her hand, enclosing her fingers in warm, calloused strength. "It's not all dark side. We just chose careers where we spend every day buried in the worst of everything so that those people up there don't have to." His head bobbed a little as he shrugged. "At least in theory."

She nodded and squeezed his hand, but didn't reply, sensing that he was working himself around to what happened between him and Saren on Tuntau. Whatever it was needed to come out in his time and without unnecessary commentary from her. From the very beginning, she'd felt like their relationship was one of those turian figures made from spun glass, and between them, they only managed to stop chucking it at one another while they worked. Even with their friendship and how well they worked together, the damned thing spent way too much time in the air for her comfort. And a world of pain awaited when one of them slipped and it finally smashed on the floor. She sighed. Such was life. Even the good stuff exacted a price, eventually.

Five minutes further down the beach, Nihlus sucked in a huge breath of the sea air. "Want to sit?"

Shepard look down at the sand, imagining all the places it could work its way into. Silk undies lost something with a nice, gritty sand thong underneath. "Ahhh, yeah." She raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't exactly dress for beach sitting."

Chuckling, he undid the front panel of his suit, revealing a light, smartly tailored white shirt beneath. "This is the only suit I brought with me," he said, his tone already lamenting the demise of the black and red tunic. Still, he laid it down on the sand lining side up. "Better?"

She gave him a shallow curtsy. "Such a gentleman." She accepted his hand, managing to ease herself down onto the tunic without putting anything on display. Skirts really were the devil.

"Yeah, better late than never, right?" He sat at her side, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them.

She bumped him with her shoulder, trying to reconcile the torin next to her with the one who'd stomped around being such an arrogant ass his first few days aboard. "Give yourself a bit of a break, Nihlus. You haven't had the easiest time of it lately, and I do like to push people off balance. We've both had our share of moments outside the Enkindlers' light, so let's just let it go at that."

She leaned back, her arms braced behind her, and crossed her legs at the ankle. The sea rolled in gentle swells of colour, deepening from cerulean to navy as the sky washed toward the horizon, its dyes bleeding into the water. She looked up, seeing pinprick diamonds peeking out between the clouds.

"At this time of year, the sun barely makes it above the horizon," Nihlus said, his voice quiet, sub-vocals rich, "but it's the only time of year that most races can tolerate the heat during the day. On Illium, the beaches tend to be a nighttime hangout."

Shepard nodded, but left him to fill the silence. It whispered, slipping along on the breeze, poignant and forlorn, colouring the pocket of universe that closed around them. Once it settled, trusting and thick, Nihlus shifted a little, edging closer as if borrowing her strength.

"I adored my pari," he repeated, starting the conversation back up. "But, my mother was a very different story. She was what most would call a social climber." He spoke so softly that she could barely make out his words over the waves and the distant sounds of the city. "When she met my father, he was rising quickly through the ranks of the military. Everyone said his potential was unlimited. That suited her very well. His being nearly crippled two years after they bonded did not." He shifted to lean back, stretching out.

"Pari moved them to the only place he could find work, a platinum mine in the middle of a merc outpost. It was a rough place to live, but he kept clear of trouble . . . tried to keep me clear of it when I came along. He made enough credits to afford a comfortable life, but Mari was miserable outside hierarchy space, her dreams of a glamorous life of power and riches dashed. My birth trapped her completely."

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head bob in a shrug. The mandible flutter that followed it said that he wasn't nearly as settled with the past as his tone tried to portray. She rested against his side a little, wanting to support without adding pressure.

"Pari died when I was sixteen. When I grew up enough to see past the facade he kept erected around me, I realized that outpost was little better than a pirate operation. They mined using slaves and safety was never as important as profit."

Slaves. Shepard tried to hide the shudder that ripped down her spine as the word unleashed a thousand shrieking, snot-drenched screams inside her head. No. No, her past didn't get to keep Nihlus from dealing with his. She shoved the screams back behind the wall.

"One day," Nihlus said, dragging her from her battle, "a couple of cycles after I became far too lautus to spend time with my father, he went to work and never came home." He cleared his throat. "We were well outside Hierarchy space, but Mari saw her chance and forced me into the military. With her mate gone, her son could elevate her to the position she desired." A bitter chuckle broke from his throat like a clap of thunder, turning her head. He met her stare. "She must have been so disappointed. I was always good at being a soldier—spirits, I grew up fighting—but I had a tiny problem with authority."

Shepard chuckled. "You? I can't see it."

He bumped her shoulder. "Yes, very much like your own love of bureaucratic stulti mendur." He shook his head and looked up at the stars. "Then Saren came along. I'd seen him before, when the Spectres raided the mine to clear out a bunch of slavers. He said I'd make a good Spectre . . . changed everything." He scoffed, softly and deep in his chest. It rumbled like a storm on the horizon. "Mother was thrilled. She moved herself to the Citadel, and met a mid-level embassy bureaucrat. Still, she rode me constantly to prove myself and make her the queen of her social circle before she was too old to enjoy it."

"Didn't you resent it?" Shepard asked, wincing as she broke her 'just let him talk' edict.

"All the time. I lived in a state of almost constant fury. Saren . . .." He sighed. ". . . well, that suited Saren. He liked me to view the universe with as much disdain as he did . . . liked me brutal, but he resented not being the most important influence in my life." Shaking his head, Nihlus lifted a hand to his throat. "Back then, Saren was everything I wanted to be, Shepard. I worshipped him. I . . . loved him."

Shepard reached out to slip her fingers around his talons. God, Saren's heartlessness sank to depths she couldn't even imagine. Had the Spectre ever loved his protege back? If he truly had, how had he fallen far enough to shoot Nihlus in the back of the head? Had Sovereign stolen Saren's soul?

Does that mean that thing is going to scoop out yours as well? It's already trying.

Swallowing a couple feet of razor wire, she shuddered again, able to feel the damned spiders wriggling through her, eating away at who she was, leaving nothing but ice-cold darkness behind. Was that what Saren felt every moment? That horrible nothing where once a heart had beat strong and quick with love?

How long before you're trying to shoot Nihlus . . . or Garrus . . . or Sparky in the back of the head?

The razor wire sliced through her chest, wrapping around her heart, and tears sprang into her eyes. . . tears shed for both of them. Tears of empathy for Saren and ones of terror for herself. Another shudder. She glanced at Nihlus to see if he'd noticed. If she kept it up, he was going to drag her to Dr. Chakwas for seizure treatment.

Sighing, she forced the reaction back under control. The pain was a good sign. She wouldn't let Sovereign rip the heart out of her. She wouldn't succumb like Saren did. She'd been through too much to be taken apart so easily.

Focusing back on Nihlus, she decided that the information about his relationship with Saren shone a new light on the ambush on Tuntau. Saren wanted Nihlus back even more than he wanted him dead. Without Benezia, he needed . . . someone. Maybe someone he cared about? Maybe someone who cared about him?

"He tried to convince me to break all ties to my mother," Nihlus continued. "I just couldn't. Pari raised me with a few iron-cored ideas about responsibility and honour . . . about respect. He made me promise to look after her if anything happened to him." He stopped, his face dropping into a scowl equal parts sorrow and fury. He lifted Shepard's hand, his talons playing with her fingers a little.

"Ah, yeah, I understand. It didn't matter how your mom behaved, you were keeping your promise to your dad . . . honouring your love for him." A soft muttering sigh underscored her words. There had to be people out there who grew up in happy, normal families, didn't there?

Nihlus stiffened beside her, his grip on her hand going cold and rough. "And then one day Saren came home and showed me messages and money transfers sent by my mother to contract someone inside the mine to sabotage Pari's machine." He looked up, his throat working, mandibles dropped.

She squeezed his talons, her thumb brushing the back of his hand. "Did you confront her?" Her voice disappeared into the growling keen forcing its way through his second larynx. It made her heart race and her nerves tingle with its promise of violence.

"I did. She flew into a rage at the accusation, attacked me." He released her hand, wrapping his arms back around his knees as he drew them up to his keel. "I killed her. I didn't mean to, I was just trying to keep her talons out of my throat. Still, she died, and she didn't deserve death, even as foul as she was."

Shepard nodded, the pieces all falling together. "And then yesterday . . .. The horrible truth Saren talked about . . . it wasn't her at all. I'm so sorry, Nihlus."

He nodded. "At the time, I used Saren's evidence to convince myself that I'd just found some justice for Pari, and it felt so good to be free of her shadow. Saren was the bright, volatile center of my galaxy; I never doubted him. He encouraged my anger, nurtured the violence in me. I was a naive idiot." He looked at her, his brow plates angled down, mandibles drawn tight. "You're not afraid or disgusted . . . disappointed?"

Shepard shook her head. "I'd already pretty much put the pieces together from what Saren said yesterday, but no, my opinion of you hasn't changed, because you haven't changed. Our pasts are what they are. All we can do is try our best to make our present about doing the right thing." She smiled and wrapped an arm around his waist. "You're still an idiot, but you're a strong one. Saren doesn't have what it takes to break you and neither does the council." She shrugged and sighed. "I do, but I'll show mercy."

He snorted. "You? Mercy? Right."

"You were right yesterday, Nihlus. You built yourself into this torin, not Saren, not your mother, and not the council. And this guy . . ." She shrugged. "Well, you know . . . he's all right." She grinned and rested her chin on his arm. "The council has turned its back on us, but you never really worked for them. You worked for all those people up there." She gestured behind them at the city's looming silhouette. "And all the ones down here."

He straightened. "And we'll save them whether they like it or not."

"Glory hallelujah, Brother Nihlus." She shifted around to kneel next to him, one hand on his shoulder. "Loving someone unworthy of it doesn't devalue that love. Trusting someone not worthy of trust . . . well, it's just a lesson to be more careful the next time around. Now, you have a partner you can trust to constantly make plans without consulting you first, but who will have your back until the moment she dies, Nihlus. No matter what."

He caught up her other hand again. "I trust you with everything, Shepard." Those remarkable green eyes clouded over a split second before he looked down at their joined hands. "Did I break something that can never be repaired?"

Shepard slipped the hand on his shoulder around his neck and rested her brow against his temple. "No. No, it's been repairing for a while now. I told you, we're okay."

Looking up, he stared into her eyes, all the arrogance and anger and even awkwardness gone. "I had no idea," he whispered, not continuing or explaining, just looking into her as if he could see all the way to her center.

Her damned skin betrayed her yet again, a heavy flush crawling up her neck under the intensity of his scrutiny. Garrus looked at her with affection and heat in his gaze, but what she saw in Nihlus's stare felt almost like adoration . . . or something even less comfortable . . . whatever it was, she knew she didn't deserve it.

Shepard cleared her throat and pulled away, sitting back on the sand. "Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger," she whispered, then let out a long breath to calm the sudden acrobats tumbling around in her belly. A hand firmly keeping her devil skirt from riding up, she lay down, the sand warming her even through Nihlus's tunic. She closed her eyes, savouring the heat. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine Nihlus leaning over, his keel pressing into her side as his mouth brushed hers.

Heart leaping into her throat and hammering so hard that a wave of dizziness washed over her, she snapped her eyes open, only relaxing when she saw him still sitting by her side staring out over the water. Damn. Not the best reaction.

You're such a chicken shit.

"What's that line from?" Nihlus asked, apparently oblivious to her internal drama. "It was beautiful, if roughly translated."

"Shakespeare." Keeping her eyes fixed on the stars, she watched as the moonlit clouds clutched their silver linings close, scuttling across the sky like people shuffling between rows of seats in a crowded theatre. "It's from the Taming of the Shrew." She laughed, her eyes darting to glare at him, the irony already sending heat roaring up her neck yet again.

He stared at her, his mandibles spread and flicking, his eyes puzzled as if trying to decide if he'd heard what he thought he heard. "The Taming of the Shrew?" Another moment of puzzlement and he began to laugh, a deep, rumbling belly laugh. He flopped down on the sand, his laughter gaining momentum. "Spirits, Shepard," he said between gasps, catching his breath for a moment, "that's just . . . so appropriate."

She elbowed him. "Hey, it's not that funny. It's meant to be inspiring, not a chance to guffaw over the delicious irony of my sparkling self quoting a play about a difficult woman." When his laughter continued, she smacked him and clambered up off the sand. "Come on, laughing fool, we should start back."

He ran up behind her a handful of metres down the beach, his arm slipping around her waist.

She glanced up to see his face working as he struggled unsuccessfully to rein in his mirth. "Oh fine, get it out of your system." Despite her tone, a bright smile bloomed across her face. Nihlus had lanced a deep, old and ugly wound. She sensed the poison flowing out of him.

Sobering, he shook his head. "No, I'm done." He bumped her gently then started chortling again, a wonderful, rumbling purr of sound. "Okay, mostly done."

Shepard hip-checked him hard enough to send him stumbling up to his knees in the surf then shrieked, "Oh no! Turian in the water! Someone get a life preserver!"

He spun toward her, the look in his eye promising a terrible end to Ashley's dress, so Shepard bolted, fleeing for the pier. She snatched her shoes from under the stairs but didn't pause to put them on until she reached the top, gasping for breath even as she laughed.

"So slow in your old age, Spectre." She cackled merrily. "A tiny human female outran the great Nihlus Kryik."

"Or he let you outrun him," Nihlus replied, grinning as he guided her through the restaurant door. "Next time you might not be so lucky."

They caught a cab out front, riding back to the docks where he landed at the far end from the Normandy. "We still have time to walk back, take in the view, pretend we don't know about all the shadows hiding under the bright lights," he explained.

When he offered his hand, Shepard took it, sauntering along the open balcony that overlooked the city. The arcologies soared into the heavens, a strange contrast to the ground-hugging domes, and everywhere . . . people crowding outside to enjoy the cooler evening air.

Pulling Nihlus along with her, Shepard wandered to the railing and looked out over the gleaming white buildings splashed in a million hues of light.

"You know me and anything so urban. It's all a blight, but the lights . . . the sky . . . it really is beautiful," she said, her voice soft. She let out a breathy chuckle, just a single puff of irony. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Nihlus turn to face her. He leaned into the railing and just watched. Her, the city, then back to her, holding her hand gently in his. She looked out over the city, time stretching out as every sense in her body became keenly aware of its passing. Such rapt attention should have her crawling out of her skin, needing to break it any way she could, but the energy coming off him felt restful, quiet. Their talk, letting all those demons free had lanced the wound, allowing him to reach detente in a war that he'd been fighting a long time.

Her smile came easily. While her imagination ran wild on the beach, his war had been winding down, suits for peace still being drawn up. But he'd left Saren and all that confusion and betrayal behind on the sand. Sighing, she closed her eyes, the play of light showing in negative inside her eyelids. She felt him press closer, close enough that his heat envelope warmed her entire left side. Close enough that her heart began to flutter rather than beat. Every nerve sprang to life under her skin, reaching out like tiny proximity mines ready to go off at the slightest contact.

A soft touch brushed along her jaw, the back of talons cool and hard, warm flesh barely grazing her skin. Detonating in tiny shivers of pleasure, the mines lifted her skin into gooseflesh and send a shiver down her spine. She opened her eyes to look at him then, returning his gaze as he bent down. Despite the invasion of acrobats and their fire-breathing friends in her belly, she didn't pull away. In the spirit of exploration. Breath hitching, entire body alive and electric with anticipation, she stared into his eyes, answering his unspoken question with cautious willingness.

His mouth whispered against hers, as gentle and hesitant as a butterfly's wing, then withdrew a hand's width away, his breath fanning the short waves of her hair.

He's waiting, Janey. You'll have to make the next move. Somewhere in the last couple of weeks he learned patience, glory hallelujah.

Eyes closing, just letting her body's hyperawareness guide her, Shepard lifted onto her toes, her lips finding his mouth. Driven by the fire-breathers as they warmed her belly, sending along the muscles and nerves, her hands lifted to his cowl, pulling her in tighter. Her lips caressed the tough hide, so familiar, but so very different as well. The years had sculpted deeper lines and ridges into Nihlus's plates and hide, and where Garrus vibrated with a deep, solid energy, Nihlus's felt frenetic, gloriously alive and passionate but also afraid, almost desperate.

Their kisses deepened, tongues exploring without being invasive. It seemed he had learned his lesson. She wrapped an arm around his neck, lifting a little further into the embrace. He bent down, wrapping a long arm around her, pulling her up tight against the right side of his keel. Slowly, she felt him begin to let slip the tight reins holding his desire under control. He pressed his mandible against her cheek, his mouth open, panting hard.

"Spirits, Shepard."

His hand wrapped around her ribs, nearly large enough to cover her from her sternum all the way around to her spine. Turning back into her, he kissed along her jawline and down her neck. Unlike Garrus's gentle teasing, Nihlus's passion roared against her barriers—a man too long in the desert starving for water. It begged her to let him sweep her away in it . . . to let it consume her.

Dear God, Janey. It will. The firestorm inside him will burn you up. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to burn?

The gentle tingle along her limbs, the pulsing warmth in her belly . . . the delicious sensitivity of her skin . . . all of it retreated, pulling back to leave her chilled and numb.

The hand on her ribs slid upward, a knuckle touching the underside of her breast, and she jerked away from him. "No." The word tumbled out, confused and terrified, but unsure of its own meaning.

Nihlus drew back, mandibles dropped, his stare confused, but also worried that he'd done something wrong. "Shepard?" He reached out, halting his fingers only centimetres from her arm. "Did I?"

She shook her head, not quite able to pull off any sort of convincing or reassuring smile. "It's okay. You're wonderful. I'm just—"

—Fucked up beyond all repair.

Shepard's earpiece signalled an incoming call. "Shepard?" Liara said, hesitant, her voice soft. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm ready to head out. I just wanted . . .."

Shepard stepped around Nihlus, her hand lifting to her ear. "Wait, please! We're less than five minutes from the ship." She started walking, grateful for the chance to normalize, get air flowing back into her lungs. Counting her breaths in time with her steps, she tried to settle all the armour no one could see back in place.

In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five. Out . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five. Come on, Janey. Breathe it out. Get it all lined back up. Pull yourself back together. Freaking out because a man you want actually wants you back . . .. How mental is that? In . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five.

She reined in the panic. "We'll be right there. Shepard, out."

"Liara?" he asked, jogging next to her as she sped up.

"Yes, she's ready to go." Shepard shook her head, thanking him silently for the professionalism in his tone. She gathered together a few more strays ends, knotting them up. "I know this is what is best for her, and for the war. I know it, and yet . . .."

Nihlus chuckled. "One of your kids is leaving the domin." He sobered, and glanced across at her. "Setting things up the way you are, it's going to be a very empty domin soon enough."

Shepard just nodded, trying to ignore the dry knocking in her chest that accompanied thoughts of Tali, Shiala, Wrex, and even Legion leaving. She pushed it aside and kept running. She needed to look into Liara's eyes and see that the researcher was following the path she felt called to, not just doing what she thought others wanted her to do.

Liara, Aethyta, Shiala and a large squad of asari commandos stood just outside the Normandy. Shepard grinned, surety settling in her gut as the commandos thrust themselves into her path, shotguns pointed at her belly. "Well, that's a good sign."

"It's all right," Liara said, a nervous chuckle following the words. "That's Captain Shepard. Um . . . stand down." She stepped around her bodyguards, her entire posture apologetic. "Sorry, Shepard."

Shepard waved the apology off. "Don't be, I suddenly feel a whole lot better about you leaving the ship." She looked into the eyes of each commando, the steel that looked back easing the prickle of her inner alarm. Addressing them, she made herself as imposing as she could manage in the slinky little red number, glad for the slight heels. "If any harm comes to Liara T'Soni, you'd all better be dead or start running the very next second." Remaining fixed on them, she waited until the scattered smirks faded into understanding.

Shepard took Liara's hands. The gentle, blue grip felt warmer and didn't tremble like it had before. "You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes. You were right about using Mother's resources." She smiled. "Consider me your Prothean Research Division. I won't be more than a call away." Her grip tightened. "Don't worry about me, Shepard. Even though it isn't what I thought I'd be doing with my life, it's so much more important."

Shepard pulled the asari into a hug. "I'm not worried about you. Not any more. Good luck, Liara. We'll always be here if you need anything." Drawing back, Shepard stepped aside to let Nihlus say goodbye.

The Spectre shook Liara's hand. "Good luck, Liara, and thank you."

Aethyta approached Shepard. "Thank you for being there when she needed someone." She offered Shepard her hand.

Shaking it briskly, the captain said, "Don't hesitate to call us if you think she needs help. She's family."

"And standing right here," Liara said and sighed, a smile belying any ill humour. "All right. I'll be in touch as soon as I get settled." She nodded to her retinue. "Let's go."

Shepard nodded. "Good luck."

"Do I have time to walk her to her ship, Captain?" Shiala asked.

Shepard nodded, then backed up until Nihlus's arm pressed against the back of hers. "Well, there goes the first one." She laughed when he gave her a gentle shove, but it died almost instantly as normal broke, letting the fear bleed through.

If they'd just started off better, if Nihlus had flirted back that day instead of reacting as he did . . . would they be hurrying back to her cabin right then to make love before falling asleep in one another's arms? For a moment, she allowed that picture to form, the warmth of his breath, so quick and deep with desire, the almost frantic need behind his kisses, hands trying to discover every inch of her at once.

No, she shook off that thought as she moved away from Nihlus, registering the Normandy's presence once more: solid, beautiful, sleek and real at her back. Real and full of people depending on her. A sick, overripe feeling twisted through her gut, and for a moment it took her entire will not to vomit.

And what about Garrus, asleep down in her bed, waiting for her to stop flitting around and just be with him? What about his gentleness, his infinite patience with her insanity, the quiet but real desire behind his touch?

What the great, living fuck are you doing, Jane Shepard? You've lost your mind, and you don't have time to lose your mind, especially not over such foolishness. Or have your hormones made you forget the Reapers?

No, a galaxy awaited salvation. She didn't have time or energy to waste on dating. She didn't have the luxury of all the hair pulling and thrashing about like some fifteen-year-old deciding who to take to the spring dance. Sweet Jesus.

Dating. Her. What the hell had she been thinking?

Mikhailovich was right. She didn't deserve a ship or crew like the Normandy. Not if she let herself get so easily distracted. Damn that cranky old bastard for being right. She looked down at her dress, shame burning a crown fire up her neck to scald her cheeks.

"Come on," she said, her voice low. "Let's get back to what we should be doing." She picked at the dress, needing the heavy hand of padded cotton against her skin instead of the gentle brush of silk. "Tomorrow, 0630 in my quarters to plan the Luna mission."

She caught the distressed flick of Nihlus's mandibles out the corner of her eye, but pushed on through the outer hatch into decon.

He followed. "Shepard? What just happened?" When she tried to duck away from him, he grabbed a wrist. "No. Don't just run. Talk to me. Did I go too far? What happened?"

After a moment spent trying to will the hatch open, she turned to face him. "It's just . . .. No, Nihlus, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just all way too much for me right now." Damn those eyes staring into hers with so much hope and so much confusion. "I need to focus on stopping Saren. I just spent an entire night out eating at a nice restaurant and walking on a beach when there's a galaxy hanging in the balance . . . and . . .."

He drew back. "And Garrus." The depth and threadiness of his sigh told her how much he'd allowed himself to hope over the course of the evening.

"Yeah, and Garrus." She pulled her hand away from him. "I like you, Nihlus. I really do. If I let myself go down this road, I could fall in love with you . . ..

If you already haven't.

". . . but I . . . Garrus . . .." Her head dropped. "He . . . I . . ..." She flailed helplessly a little, trying to find a way to explain past the terrible lump of fear and sorrow tangling deep in her throat.

He gripped her shoulder. "I understand, Shepard. He's been your rock from the beginning, helping you get through the messes I made. I understand."

She backed up a single step. "I'm trying to save a galaxy . . . we . . . we're trying to save a galaxy." She stared down at the floor, unable to keep talking if she looked him in the eye. Her heart contracted, a tiny singularity of guilt and regret pulling at it. He reached up, but she ducked away from his hand. "Trying to figure this thing between the three of us out . . ." She gestured back and forth between them. ". . . and the war . . . I'm just not ready. It's too much. I'm sorry, but I can't explore this right now. Maybe . . . someday, when I'm not such a mess and life isn't trying to tear me into so many pieces."

"Shep—"

"I'm sorry, but I . . .." She met his eyes for a split second. "It's Garrus."

The door opened and she burst through, needing to escape before he spoke and everything she'd said flew out the airlock . . . and she ended up kissing him again. Fleeing, practically jogging the length of the CIC and down the stairs, she tried to rein in the panic ping-ponging around inside her, a last spark trying to find its way to oxygen. Counting off her steps, even rushed, allowed her to start slotting the pieces back into place.

The dim silence of the crew deck reached down inside of her, stroking the fear with reassuring fingers. "It's all right," the ship whispered. "You're back where you belong. Calm down. You over-reacted as always. Just breathe and carry on."

Slowing to a walk, she crossed the mess with a little more decorum, the mantles of captain and Garrus Vakarian's new girlfriend finding their way back onto her shoulders. She hesitated outside her door for a moment to catch her breath.

She palmed the control, then stood in the open doorway, staring at the torin stretched out along her bed, facing the wall. In the light streaming through the portal, all his angles and planes stood out in harsh relief. He really was something.

"You going to stand there all night staring at me, or come in?" he grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Is there something wrong with admiring the view?" she asked, the heavy frown lines melting from her brow and around her eyes at the sound of his voice. That voice . . . in the dark under that building on Feros keeping the fear at bay with its warmth . . . breaking her out of her memories on Noveria . . . laughing helplessly next to her above that lava pit on Therum.

Sweet baby Jesus, where would I be without him? How in the name of the freaking Enkindlers' did some random C-Sec agent with far too much attitude become so important to me in a couple of weeks?

The answer to that question played out in flashes of a hundred moments of quiet support, an offered hand, his infuriating over-protective streak. She stepped inside, but too close for the door to shut.

"Not if you do it with the door closed." His hand lifted and flapped toward the cot set up by the door. "I'm supposed to be using that, remember? I probably should be. I think this mattress has dislocated my shoulder."

You've been a selfish ass, Shepard. Land, treat the torin the way he deserves to be treated, and focus on your bloody war.

Shepard let the door close and walked over to her closet, pulling the dress over her head as she went. "I've gotten used to having a tough old, pointy heating unit at night." She hung up the dress, and slipped her t-shirt over her head before removing her bra. "You're forbidden to use the cot."

"Yes, ma'am. Glad I can be of service," he grumbled. "Are you decent, yet?"

"Just a second. Sheesh, so impatient." She slid on her shorts. "Okay, you can roll over now." She organized her shoes and grabbed her kit. "Be back as soon as I've got all this crap off my face."

Shepard jogged through the almost silent ship on bare feet. She could still hear the waves caressing the sand, still feel the warm breeze tickling its fingers over her legs and arms, still feel Nihlus pressed up against her, the sound of his breathing in time with the surf.

Seriously, Janey? The second you left Garrus? You're pathetic.

She ducked into the head and strode to the sink, staring at her reflection, her lipstick smeared and rubbed away. Dammit, she'd said goodbye to Liara looking like she'd been making out with half of Nos Astra. Roughly, she scrubbed it and the rest of the night away, putting everything back in order, lining it all back up with each swipe of the cloth. Ten minutes later, skin glowing a fiery pink, she toweled off and headed back to her quarters.

The silver gleam of Garrus's eyes greeted her when she walked back into her quarters. He'd turned over and leaned up on an elbow, the blankets folded back invitingly.

She chuckled. "You smooth ol' dog, you." After tucking her kit back into her closet, she walked over and sat facing the head of the bed, her knee drawn up. She reached up and caressed his cheek for a moment, just savouring the familiar roughness of his hide under her fingers, the myrrh and cloves scent of his cleanser, the affection in his eyes.

"So, how did your date go?" he asked, his sub-vocals rich and rumbling heavily as he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

The movement set off the burn in her chest again. She was such an idiot to have not just grabbed hold of him and put everything else out of her head. Her hand slid down to rest just inside the cowl of his robe. "You know, Garrus, I love how perceptive you are . . . how intuitive and intelligent," she said, stroking the backs of her fingers along the ridge of his neck. "But sometimes, you're a dumbass."

Garrus scowled at her. "Why? What do you mean?"

"It was a good date. Nihlus and I had a good time. We talked, ate, went for a walk along the beach and talked some more. We even kissed, but I belong here, in my stupid, old PJs, curled up next to you." She placed her hand against his cheek again, her thumb following the line of his mouth. "Stop trying to force Nihlus and I together. Seriously. I'm not here because I'm too inexperienced or too angry to realize that I'm in love with him."

He stared into her eyes, his just gleams of reflected light in the half-dark. "Why are you here?"

"Because on Therum, you did up my seat belt without making anything of it. Because you're willing to face the storms to come, and I don't mean the Reapers." Nodding toward the lamp, she caressed the upper plate of his mouth and his chin with her fingertips. "Because even though you're here, and I'm not scared when you are, you always make sure there's light in the room." What she saw in his eyes, shining at her brighter than the reflection, made her cheeks heat with shame again, but she pushed it aside. "And because it doesn't even occur to you that I might be more attracted to you than I am Nihlus, you idiot.

"I'm here because I want to be with you. Remember?" She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his upper mouth plate then waggled her head. "That you're a great kisser for a guy with no lips doesn't hurt your case either." She grinned, her mouth still pressed against his.

Curling in tighter against him, she tucked her head under his chin. "I'm tired of being crazy, Garrus. Bouncing back and forth between the two of you . . . it'll drive me mad, and I won't be able to fight this war. I need to stay sane enough to do that. Does that make sense?"

He nodded and kissed her brow, nuzzling her softly. "Okay." A rough, rolling chuckle tickled her skin. "You could just date Alenko. He's the sanest choice."

She let out a deep, lamenting sigh. "I can't. He's scared of me . . . said he'd rather date Wrex." She smiled at the laugh that answered that, waiting until the mirth faded from the pocket of space around them before she said, "I don't know if we'll make it through Hurricane Shepard, but in the meantime I'm with you." She shrugged. "If I feel the need to be with Nihlus, I'll let you know. Until then, I expect my dates to be with you."

Lautus - Literal: Considering oneself too fashionable or important to associate with people considered less so. Vernacular: Cool, hip.

Stulti mendur - Literal: foolish lies. Vernacular: Bullshit.

Domin - House, but in terms of it being a home.