Tryllic - A marsupial analogue native to Palaven. Tryllic weight between 10-15 kilos and stand 12-14 inches at the shoulder. They distantly resemble both badgers and porcupines, the former due to coloration and the latter due to the thick 1-4 inch long spines that cover their bodies-spines that are very hard and sharp along their backs. When pups, their undercoat is analogous to pussywillow fluff in it's softness.
Golus - Slang for male genitalia
Torpen cortis - An herb gathered from the base of trees in the deep, jungle-like forests of the northern Palven lowlands. A topical analgesic.
Tarc - Turian expletive equivalent to shit.
64 Days ASR 1400 hours
The moment Shepard stepped into the shuttle, Nihlus knew something rode in hard and fast on her six. Truly, the woman should never be trusted with state secrets; she wore her entire emotional and mental state out in the open for everyone to see. Well, at least since dying had stripped all her old, tired masks away. He knew she missed them and felt vulnerable without them, but he prayed to the good spirits that they never returned.
He watched her as she turned to close the hatch and hit the pressurization control, admiring her lithe form, it's smooth curves and gentle lines. From the moment he'd first seen her—exhausted tears of horror and grief cutting pale tracks through the filth on her face, trembling hands clinging to Martin's as the kid was carried to waiting transport—he'd wanted no one else.
Two cycles before, he'd recommended her to become a Spectre against a great many objections, most from her own people. And then, he'd acted like such a complete golus. The fact that she could turn to look at him with all that love and warmth in her stare …. Spirits, he counted himself so lucky that it terrified him.
Letting all that settle to the back of his mind, he shook his head, mandibles twitching a little before he stilled them. "The chia pressurized that section of the Cynosure to Earth standard and filled it with breathable air. There was no need to wear a helmet or pressurize the shuttle."
Her shoulders rolled toward her ears. "Better safe than sorry." Reaching up, she flicked the seal on her helmet, then pulled it off. "I've already been spaced, and to be honest, I'm not all that eager to try the other end of the spectrum." She keyed the VI pilot control before meeting his gaze again. "Besides, I'm pretty sure even Cerberus couldn't bring me back after being crushed in the deep atmo of a gas giant." She retracted her helmet and hung it from her belt, a bright smile tugging open all the fissures in her skin. "But … come on, doesn't get much cooler than that, right?"
Despite nodding, he didn't answer, waiting for her to drop the other boot. Boot? Foot? Shoe? Whatever. He sighed. Human sayings never made any sense. When she sat next to him, her shoulder bumping him in a very turian show of support and affection, he knew what sort of trouble she brought with her. Time for the drinking talk.
He sucked in a long breath that rumbled with both apprehension and resignation as he blew it out. The time had come. Truly, it had come on Illium, but as much as he longed to return to an even camber, he dreaded the days to get there. Particularly trapped aboard the Ypres. If days of sweating, vomiting, shaking, and general misery lay ahead, he'd prefer to face them in his quarters on Omega.
Shepard slipped her arm around him. When he reciprocated, she rested her head against his side. "I think you might be ready to lose the flask," she said, angling the words as a question. "What do you think?"
"Maybe. Although, I'm surprised you waited this long to bring it up." He turned to rest his chin on the top of her head, savouring the silky threads of hair against his throat. "There's nowhere private on the Ypres, Jane. Nowhere to hunker down and suffer through it. I'd rather wait until we get back to Omega."
A soft sort of moan escaped her lips at the words, prompting him to pull her in closer.
"You're not going through this alone, Nihlus." She pulled away and looked up, her green eyes fierce and determined. "You may have last time and come through just fine, but not this time … not on my watch." A touch like the down on a tryllic pup caressed the length of his mandible. "That's what this whole family thing is about, cikabeknai."
He leaned into her touch. "It's not pretty, Jane." A tight growl rolled up his throat. "I just don't want you to see me like that."
Her growl came damned close to matching his as it dug in under his plates, all barbed warning. "Do you think I'm so shallow or fickle that I won't love you just as much … if not more … afterward?"
He jerked back, horrified. "Spirits, no. It's not about you. I know you'd be right there wiping my face and doing your best to ease my way through." Drawing in a quick, ragged breath, he shrugged. What was it about? Why did the thought of her crouched next to him on the bathroom floor tweak his flight reflex so badly?
"So, it's about pride? Can't let anyone see the big, tough Spectre weak and vulnerable?" Despite the hard edge to her words, her eyes remained warm, one eyebrow tweaking a little. Baiting him; he should expect it by now. Their relationship started with her getting in his face and pissing him off.
He met her challenge squarely. "Maybe it is about pride. Maybe I'm the shallow one."
Shoulder lunging into his side hard enough to smart, she squeezed the arm wrapped around his waist. "Well, I'm not letting you get away with that shit, mister." Both eyebrows peaked. "We're in this for the long haul, that means looking after one another when we're sick." Everything behind the smile shining up at him pulled his heart out through his keel, but she didn't give him time to shove it back inside where it belonged, her hand wandering along his mandible again. "Garrus is going to bunk in Javik's space until you're comfortable with him being around. You and I—and Karin from time to time—will hole up in my cabin."
"I don't get a say in any of this?" he asked, the words whispering along a drawn out breath. Pulling her in tight, he tucked her against his side. "Maybe it's just the wounded animal needing to hide away, Jane. Maybe that's all there is to it."
She wrapped both arms around him. "When my cat was sixteen years old, he started trying to do that … hide away and starve himself. I lured him out with fried chicken, hamburger, ice cream … whatever I needed to do to get him over that hump to where he started eating again." She grinned, nuzzling into his neck, her nose and lips cool against his hide. "Well, you were there, you know how that turned out."
"Yeah." He pressed his mouth against her hair. "He lived another two years." Closing his eyes, he just savoured the weight of her against his side, the softness of her cheek on his throat. "You're too damned stubborn for your own good. You know that, right?"
She chuffed, soft and low in her chest. "How could I not with everyone reminding me all the time?" Whispering between soft kisses that tugged at the sensitive hide under his jaw, she said, "I love you too much to let you suffer alone. I don't care how ugly it gets. I want to look after you."
Nihlus settled into the relaxed stillness that drifted between them, slipping beneath the muffled roar of the engine and thrusters. Still not certain about allowing her to watch him detox, he nonetheless simply rested in his dilan's embrace, breathing deep of the ozone-laced air.
After few minutes, he felt the heaviness lift, the scent of Shepard's shampoo sweetening the stale air. Content to let the silence stand as long as she did, his thoughts drifted. His first ordeal through detox came at the hands of the hierarchy when he was fifteen. They admitted him to a hospital, kept the symptoms to a minimum. The last time he put himself through the hell of withdrawal, he'd just locked himself in a small, rented yacht in the middle of uncharted space. That way, even if he wanted to drink, it would take him a couple of days to get within arm's reach of alcohol.
It hadn't been the wisest move. He knew he could have died. The more often you went through withdrawal, the more dangerous it became. Of course, at that point, he'd thought himself without anything to live for. Then, on the fifth or sixth day, he'd been sprawled across the bed, sweating into the sheets balled up in his clenched fists and watching a news feed: something about a massive pirate attack on a human colony. Out of the crowd stepped this child-sized female wearing Alliance armour. The reporter called her the hero of the day, claiming that she'd organized the colonists and held off the pirates.
Shepard regained his attention when she caressed the tip of her nose along the bottom edge of his mandible. "If you're not ready to quit, that's fine. You'll be ready when you're ready." She snuggled in a little tighter. "But I think you're in a great place to kick that monkey off your back."
He glanced over his shoulder. "I don't see any monkeys on my back." Chuckling, he turned back into her arms when she elbowed him. "Yeah, I've known it's time for a while. I just couldn't afford to be out of commission for long enough."
"Then maybe now is the best time, cikabeknai." She pulled away just far enough to meet his stare. "When we get aboard, we'll talk to Karin, see what she can do to mitigate the symptoms, get Gardner to make a big pot of that soup you like, and then hunker down to weather out the storm."
"Wrex's emergency?" he asked, gazing down at her, his heart beating slow but so hard that he could feel his pulse in his head and all the way down his talons.
"If you're not up to carrying a gun by the time we arrive, we've got gun hands galore right now." She wriggled loose to kneel on the bench beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "We'll take as long as we need. No pressure whatsoever." She kissed the end of his nose, lips soft and damp. "If you decide not to push it now, I'm right here with you, and I will still be right here when you decide it's time."
Nihlus dragged her into his arms so that she sat sideways across his lap. Spirits, she always seemed so much larger than life. Her energy took up enough space for any four other people. Only when he held her did he recall how tiny she was. "Thank you, haksaya cubenar. I'd be honoured to have you hold my fringe back while I vomit."
Shepard cackled, as bright as she'd been serious the moment before. "If those things start moving, I'll be running for the door, screaming at the top of my lungs." Eyebrows raised, eyes sparkling, she shook her head. "I signed on for everything except for the fringe is alive." The teasing deepened. "Unless of course, it's to the sound of music."
"What is the root of your obsession with that movie?" Nihlus pulled her in, pressing his mouth to her brow, nuzzling her softly. "Is it because your family watched it every year at Christ Mass?"
Shepard shrugged, but snuggled into the curves of his armour, fitting as if she belonged there. "Yeah, probably. It's a reminder of a safe, content time. It's also a lovely story about two people who should have never fallen in love but are able to see past all the surface layers between them."
He chuffed and shook his head. "Under all that snark, you're just a big, squishy romantic with a heart of pure fluff."
She smacked his arm. "Shush, you. That's a secret."
Letting out a long, contented breath, he rested his chin on the top of her head. "Don't worry, it's completely safe with me."
Dr. Chakwas awaited them outside Shepard's quarters, her medical bag in her hand. She greeted them both with a smile and that familiar, comforting air of professional competence. Nihlus couldn't be sure if he'd ever truly trust another doctor after being treated by Chakwas for two and a half years.
"Hey, Doc, thanks for meeting us up here," Shepard said as she exited the elevator. She squeezed the older woman's arm and nodded toward the door. "Come on in."
Nihlus followed the two women, a very large part of him trying to drag the rest of him back to the elevator. But, Shepard had agreed to that life … the one that hopefully included kids and a lifetime of love, bidding farewell at the age of one hundred and seventy. He very much wanted to experience it without the brandy fog.
Once they all made it down to the couches, Shepard gestured for Chakwas to take a seat, then slipped her hand into his, leading him around the table to sit across from the doctor. After a couple of strangely awkward seconds—after all, Chakwas had sobered him up more than once when he'd been too drunk to go on missions—Shepard squeezed his hand and bumped him with her shoulder, reassuring him that she had his six.
Nodding, Nihlus cleared his throat, then rubbed his free hand along the outside of his thigh. "It's time to stop drinking," he said, the words aimed at the floor as they rushed out of him.
Chakwas leaned forward, patting his shoulder in a very motherly but abrupt fashion. "I'm glad to hear it." She tipped her head a little, her expression one of being very pleased with her cleverness. "I also anticipated that it might be the reason you called me up here rather than visiting medbay." She opened her bag and began pulling items out, laying them on the coffee table.
Deft hands latched a slender, metal bracelet around his wrist before he could even yank his hand away, startled by her abruptness. "This will monitor all the pertinent details and feed them to my omnitool. That way I can leave your treatment with you and Shepard, and still keep an eye on you."
A datepad and five small cases of meds lined up across the table, all with instructions. Shepard asked a ton of questions, pouring over the datapad as if she were studying for an engineering exam. For a moment, it took every gram of control he possessed to simply squeeze her hand rather than pulling her into her arms and kissing her until neither of them could breathe.
When she looked up and met the intensity of his stare, she just rubbed her lips together and popped her shoulders in a tiny shrug. "What? It's important." She released his hand and slipped her arm around his waist. "I'm not taking the slightest chance. You're too important."
Shepard went through the entire regimen with Chakwas three times to be sure she had it all down, then the doc gave him his first injections.
"Don't hesitate to call me, even though I'll be monitoring." The three of them stood, Chakwas gripping his forearm for a second. "The meds should help alleviate the worst of the symptoms, but this is your … third detox?"
Nihlus swallowed hard, a soft rumble rolling up his throat. Between these two impossible women, they'd leave him no secrets, no places to hide. "Fifth," he said, the word hanging onto his tongue.
Chakwas blew a hard breath out through her nose and clucked her tongue. "The treatment will remain the same, but the risk of seizures is quite high." The steel-riveted stare turned to Shepard. "Don't let him talk you out of any of the meds."
"Not going to happen, Doc. Don't worry. I'm way more stubborn than he is." Shepard walked Chakwas to the door. "Thanks for all the help, Karin."
Nihlus tuned out their conversation, focusing on the schedule glowing up at him from the datapad. The next week looked to mirror his first detox far more closely than he expected. He knew Shepard would never just let him curl into a ball and wait for it to be over. Hopefully, he could keep himself from snapping at her. Problematic didn't really begin to describe his temper when the pain and the need got bad.
"Hey." Shepard's hands slipped around him from behind to cross just below his keel. "What say we get you out of that armour and through a shower?"
He chuckled and twisted a little to look at her over his shoulder. "Are you offering your back scrubbing services?"
She pressed herself against him, the pressure, a warm caress in the darkness before dawn even with their armour in the way. "Well, you said you wanted to wait until our bonding ceremony for the whole deal, but there was no mention of showering together." Backing up a little, she loosened her hold on him. "Your robe is up here, right? In the closet?"
"It is." He nodded and turned, hands lifting to cradle her head, mandibles fluttering in a soft smile. "It feels like we're pushing it, Jane."
She smiled but thin and pressed. "Yeah, but it's always going to feel like we're pushing too hard. With Garrus, it was easy. There was nothing on the other side of the equation." Those nimble fingers reached up to start popping seals. "Besides, we've been together in the shower before." A brighter, more genuine, smile looked up at him. "This time we'll both be naked, not just me."
He lifted his hands to help remove his armour, letting out a faint sigh when she just grabbed them, pulled off his gloves, and set his arms back at his side. "You're going to be impossible for the next week, aren't you?"
She shrugged and continued with her work, dropping the pieces of his armour onto the chair Chakwas had vacated. "If by impossible, you mean am I going to take care of you? Absolutely." Her hands stilled, pressed against his chest guard. "Get used to it, Spectre. In a few weeks or months …" She cleared her throat, a teasing rumble. "... if you ever get around to asking, you're going to be stuck with me for the rest of your life." Looking up at last, she stared into his eyes, her gaze so filled with his dreams that it dragged a soft keen into that sacred-feeling space between them. "Might as well get a head start on learning to live with it."
She slapped his yoke. "Lift this off, will you? I'm not tall enough." Her smile set his heart racing and pulled his hands up to cup her face between them again. Spirits, he'd missed her face, the roguish freckles and the way her eyes gleamed when she smiled.
Instead of doing as she'd said, he bent to kiss her, his tongue caressing her lips until, with a soft breath, they parted. The sweet, mineral taste of her mouth poured through him, sweeping along his nerves and through his blood vessels in washes of midsummer afternoons and deep winter sunsets. Slowly, letting the fire sparked by the softness of her lips settle deep in his belly, Nihlus drew back just far enough to speak.
"Have patience with me, haksaya kubenar?" Try as he might, he knew he could never imbue the words with the true lengths to which her patience would be tried.
"I've been through it, love. I know you're going to be a complete asshole now and again." She leaned in to kiss him. "I might need the odd break, but I'll still love you at the other end."
Not that he was a connoisseur of washroom floors, but the one in Shepard's cabin—so blessedly cool beneath his cheek—definitely hit the top three. She'd made him a nest of pillows and blankets on the unforgiving metal, but he couldn't stand a pillow beneath his head. It heated up and soaked with his sweat, becoming unbearable in minutes. At least the floor stayed fairly cool, and he could wipe away the puddles of perspiration and drool when they collected.
"Okay, enough bathroom floor time," Shepard said, her voice blessedly soft as she walked through the door, an armload of clean towels in her hands. "Up you come. Let's get your meds into you, then we'll run you through the shower."
Nihlus opened one eye, watching her step around and over him to put the towels away. Too exhausted even to speak, he just let the eyelid settle closed again. As good as a cool shower would feel, if it meant standing, it could wait. And then Shepard started pulling the pillows out from under him. Protesting in the form of a low growl, he spread himself out to hold them down.
"Come on, love. Up and at 'em. I need to throw all of this stuff through the laundry. It reeks of BO, puke, and something that smells like old vinegar. Seriously, as good as you smell when you're not puddled on the bathroom floor swaddled in sweat and puke, this is just … terrifyingly foul." She tugged at one corner of the blanket he held clutched against his keel and wriggled one eyebrow, a suggestive little tick. "If you get up and wash the funk off, I promise to make it worth your while."
The slanted, wheedling tone pulled a reluctant chuckle loose to roll across the floor. "You're impossible," he said, more a long, articulate groan than words. "I can't move. I've been in this position too long." Playing it up, he hoisted one hand a couple of centimetres, then let it flop back onto his nest. "Too … weak ... ." Adding a wheezing gasp, he pawed at her knee as if trying to push her away. "Just leave me here to moulder in my own filth."
Shepard chuckled and knelt next to his head, gentle fingers welcome and soothing along his neck. "My poor, brave little Spectre." Her grin tipped toward evil. "So pathetic that even a shower is beyond him." She leaned down to kiss just below his aural canal. "It's a shame. I got the oil ready. It's warm, and I've been steeping a mixture of rylamia, torpen cortis, spearmint, and eucalyptus in it for an entire day. I even made a pot of sweet rylamia tea, and it's steaming hot. There may or may not be some dextro ice cream awaiting you as well."
"Dear spirits, stop." He heaved himself up onto an elbow, giving her his best, put upon scowl through the drum chorus inside his head. "You're an evil woman." The room turned slow, uneven circles, but he held out a hand. "Help me up, foul temptress."
His claims to weakness proved far too accurate as Shepard pulled and he pushed, practically climbing the toilet to hoist himself up onto shaking legs. He folded down onto the seat rather than fall flat on his face. Even after he hit the seat, he continued to fold down until his head impacted his hands and his elbows lodged in his thighs.
"You haven't been eating enough." Shepard scooped up his nest and tossed it out the door. "I'll give you a shot of the anti-nausea stuff after we finish with your shower so you can eat some soup and keep it down."
Turning his head just far enough to watch his dilan, Nihlus let loose the long, low rumble of love and devotion trying to force its way out. She hit the water control, turning it to steaming hot. Normally, he preferred it cooler, but his muscles told the old preferences to shut up and die in the depths of the pits. Right then, all that sounded better than hot water pounding the pain into submission was the waiting oil massage. His hide felt stretched and cracked, a mudflat in the deepest heat of summer, flaking beneath the sun.
Shepard picked up the soft brush and pumice cleanser—a modern turian substitute for the thick, gritty mud their ancestors used to scrub away the sweat and other undesirables—and set to work with him still sitting on the toilet. Nihlus simply closed his eyes and leaned into the firm, circling motion.
"Remember bath nights?" he asked, pitching his tone to leave the comfortable hush intact.
Shepard chuckled as she leaned behind him to wash his cowl and lower back. "Playing 'The First Turian Deep Sea Explorer' with Aurin Plavidus." Her lips brushed his brow.
"Mari thought I was mad." He changed his pitch to scolding and impatient. "'Turians don't swim let alone dive beneath the waves, Nihlus Kryik. You just get that right out of your stupid, little head.'"
Crouching in front of him, Shepard rested her hands on his knees, stilling their shaking. "Aurin Plavidus was a hero among turian-kind. So brave." She grinned and rubbed the side of his knee, the touch firm and loving. "You up to standing? I've got you as clean as I can manage in this position."
Nihlus gripped her shoulders, keeping her from standing. "You've changed my entire life, Jane." Collapsing forward in slow motion, every lengthening and flexing of muscle in the movement registering … almost profound—did he owe the heightened sensation to the withdrawal?—he rested his brow against hers. Her skin felt so warm, so vital and real and beautiful against his brow plate. "The last time I put myself through this, I was at the end, but you saved me. Even before we shared our memories, you saved me. I guess I should have led with all this when we met, but I wasn't at my best."
Her arms draped over his cowl, one hand hooking the back of his neck as she relaxed into the position. "What do you mean?"
Her question set guilt rolling through his already unsettled gut, spurring a heavy rumble of sound. He'd allowed her to think they'd shared everything in the link, and they had … at least until he figured out that he could control the thing, show it only what he wanted.
He cleared his throat and rested his brow on her shoulder. "Saren disappeared without a word of explanation a half year before, and I fought through the nightmare of that damned slaver ring and then Samara hunted me across an entire planet. I didn't see much point to Nihlus Kryik. So I rented a ship, flew out into the middle of nowhere and waited for the detox to either kill me or not." He wrapped his arms around her, gritty lather and all. "Then I saw a report from Elysium, saw you accompanying Martin to his medical evac transport. Something in your eyes and the way you held yourself sunk its talons into my guts and dragged me off of my soaking wet sheets. You sparked the fuse that started my heart beating and blood flowing."
She pulled herself in closer, nuzzling in under his jaw. "Why didn't I see this stuff in the link on Thessia, Nihlus?"
He drew back, but she held onto him, not letting him pull away further than the length of her arm. "I had control by then, began to play around with how much I could omit or change, and I'm not proud of that year of my life." Staring into her eyes, he searched for any sign of anger, but found nothing that heated or volatile. Seeing no pending explosions, he relaxed back into her touch.
She looked down, focusing on his chin, her face flushing pink. "Yeah, well, I may have held back a few moments myself." Waggling her head, she straightened and held out her hand. "Come on, I'll tell you while I finish."
Groaning, all of his muscles threatening to dump him on the ground in a puddle of half-formed turian spongecake left too long in amarceru, he stood, leaning heavily on her impossibly strong shoulders. The five steps to the shower unit took ten and he ended up hanging from the corner unit, the water streaming down his front as she scrubbed, then rinsed. As welcome and soothing as her touch was, he'd spent too much time lying on the floor, the hard surface and inaction adding . Halfway through the drying process, he needed to sit, so staggered back to the toilet.
"How many days in are we?" he asked, the words coming out as gasps, his lungs stubbornly refusing to pull in more than a trickle of air.
"Three." The word hit like mortar shells.
"Three?" he repeated, soft and defeated. "I thought we were near the end, and we've barely begun."
"You're doing great, Nihlus. It doesn't feel like it, but you are." She finished drying him, her hands deliciously rough as they rubbed his hide back to life. "I'm not convinced you're going to be able to handle the stairs," she said, glancing between Nihlus and the stairs as if she could judge his ability to make it there by sight alone. "What do you think?"
He opened his mouth to tell her that he thought he could manage three stairs, but she cut him off. "No, not going to chance it. I'll call Garrus up to help." Again, he tried to speak, but she hurried out without listening. Annoyance flared, an acid spark that burned down the back of his throat. Weak or not, headache banging at the inside of his skull like a krogan thrash drummer or not, he could form thought and make decisions for himself.
Shepard hurried back in a second later, holding his robe out like a noose ready to slip over his head.
"Tarc, Jane, stop!" The words cut with far more edge than he intended, but they stopped her from wrestling him into the robe like someone trying to win a cage match. He gripped her hands, stilling them. "I can put the robe on myself. I'm not that pathetic." He eased her fingers off the material and shrugged his way into it.
She stepped back and shrugged. "Sorry, cikabeknai. I know you're not pathetic. It's just ... " She shrugged. "... I like taking care of you." Shrugging, she held her hands out in a supplicating gesture and shuffled half a step toward him. "Okay, what do you want to do about the stairs?"
The quick flare of anger fading, he shoved himself up onto trembling legs. "No, I'm sorry, Jane." He held his arm out. "I can make it with your help." When she tucked herself in against his side, he leaned down to nuzzle the silky strands her hair. "Thank you."
Shepard gave him a smile and a wink, then focused on the long road down to the bed.
Five minutes later, he collapsed onto the mattress, shaking so hard that his teeth chattered. He held onto Shepard, pulling her in between his thighs and wrapping his arms around her, using her solid warmth to anchor himself. "Tell me about one of those moments you hid from me," he whispered, pressing his cheek against hers.
She turned her head to press soft kisses along his mandible. "Okay, but you need to get out of this robe and lie on your front while I get your meds ready. You're a little behind schedule, and you're acting shocky enough to make me worry." Kissing him again, she extricated herself from his grip, leaving his front cold. "Let me take care of you, please, cikabeknai?"
Recognizing the truth in her words, Nihlus nodded and opened the fasteners down the front of his robe. When he managed to tug it out from beneath his rear end, he tossed it and eased himself over onto his front, his keel sinking into the half meter of memcell. After their trip to Thessia, she'd said she'd get a more comfortable mattress. He smiled and drew Shepard's pillow in under his head. When Shepard did something, she certainly didn't skimp. Closing his eyes, he savoured being cradled in the mattress's embrace.
Much better than the washroom floor.
"So," Shepard said, stepping up beside him, "something I hid from you, huh?" The syringe pressed against his throat, then the muscle just below his shoulder. She disappeared for a moment, then climbed up on the bed next to him.
The heady scent of the oil drifted through him, relaxing him down into the clean sheets even before her hands spread it over his cowl. His breathing easing into a slow, deep rhythm for the first time in days, Nihlus allowed her touch to pull all the stiffness and pain out through his hide. As she told the story, her voice set him adrift, floating in warm waters.
Shepard slid her hands up his spine from the hollows of his pelvis to his shoulders. "I was in a pretty low place when I first saw you as well. I'd been undercover for nearly six months, chosen for the job not because I was a great infiltrator, but because I'd already gained a reputation for being one crazy bitch." She paused, oil-slick hands sliding over his cowl, the infusion tingling as it soothed his cracked, raw hide.
"So, yeah, as a young lieutenant, I went undercover for six months as a member of a human pirate gang. They preyed on batarian colonies, mostly, hijacking ships, stealing women and children to sell at auctions as close to batarian space as they could get." She growled softly, deep in her throat: definitely been around turians too much. "Mostly, they just wanted to tug the tiger's tail as hard as they could. Their campaign worked, making life a living hell for the colonies along the batarian border."
She dug the pads of her thumbs in along the ridge of plates up the back of his neck, finding every tense muscle, every endorphin-releasing nerve cluster.
"Dear spirits, Jane," he moaned, his entire body puddling like that green jiggly stuff Shepard liked to eat. "Why didn't I know about this talent? Once word spread about the skill of those hands, you could live anywhere in luxury."
She chuckled. "Good to know, in case I decide to give up this whole fighting the Reapers gig." Her tone soothed the parts of him her fingers couldn't, her teasing a balm without equal. "I didn't possess this mighty skill until two days ago. I looked up a few sites, searching for things I could do to ease your way through. One site focused entirely on what places to stimulate to ease pain and others to help your body rebalance itself while detoxing." A gentle hand slapped his backside.
"That's going to stimulate things that have nothing to do with drying out," he muttered, grinning into the pillow.
"Behave and let me finish my story." Slippery fingers worked oil into his crest, only exacerbating the issue going on behind his lowest set of plates. When she spoke again, the change in tone and in her energy, pulled his head up out of the downy softness. Cold stone replaced all the gentle teasing and joy, a sudden and solid wall. "Alliance brass thought the assignment a perfect match to my rage level." She cleared her throat as if trying to break up that barrier. "Besides, I had an ironclad backstory and scars enough to make anyone a believer. So yeah, they sent me to seduce my way into the inner circle and then take them out. The longer I could stick it out, the longer I could watch innocent batarians suffer, the deeper I could get."
Her hands stuttered then stopped, setting off his worry alarm as they rested on his head: those delicate fingers betraying her as they grew chill rather than warming against his crest. She cleared her throat again before continuing, "I didn't really see innocence in any batarians back then. Not after what happened to my family. The batarians deserved what was coming to them. Even the children would just grow into another generation of monsters. I was doing the galaxy—hell, even the batarians—a favour: showing them the evil of slavery."
She worked firm circles down his neck, her voice dropping to a rough whisper. "I fit into that gang like the proverbial round peg. Two weeks in, they made me a lieutenant under one of the second tier bosses, pulling me into the insanely extravagant lifestyle of the organization's higher-ups. I spent most of the time hanging off my boss's arm at fancy dinners and cocktail parties, chatting up people with more money than I could imagine but who carried around a very familiar hatred."
A sigh like paint dripping down a wall slipped between them, and he felt the mattress shift as she sat back. "I drank the Kool Aid."
His translator spitting out nonsense, Nihlus frowned, using her tone to parse the meaning. Well, her tone and the heavy stink of shame permeating the air. For a moment, he almost opened a door, both to give Shepard an out and to let fresh air in … air that didn't reek of guilt and regret. The hand holding his heart twisted, pulling loose a low keen. He hadn't meant to drag her down with him.
"No one had to force me," she continued. "I reveled in it. People looked up to me, lavished me with gifts, and they practically threw Hallex at me. Hell, they didn't even try to seduce me. Not that I didn't get offers to warm people's beds, just … if I said no, they understood why and gave me space. Most of them had been where I was."
Nihlus twisted to look at his dilan, but didn't dare shatter the almost sacred-feeling bubble that she'd woven around them. Dear spirits, he'd read her record, studied it in depth, admired the fact that as such a young soldier she'd been chosen for such a difficult mission. The Alliance had awarded her four commendations and a medal for that mission. When Nihlus met her, he thought he knew everything about her. He'd been such a complete fool.
She lifted a hand, gentle fingertips caressing the length of his mandible, her thumb tracing his upper mouth plate. "My team raided our first colony the third week. I didn't allow my people to hurt anyone. I gave them tranq guns and took pride in my cargo being brought in with no more than scratches." A slow, sad moan tumbled down a slope of pure, crystalline guilt. Shepard swallowed hard and nodded for him to lie back. She dove back to work, moving down to his legs.
"I became the gang's top money maker. Undamaged merchandise brought the best prices. I told myself that I kept away from the cages and avoided the control-chipping process because I couldn't afford to blow my cover." Another sigh dripped guilt, the flow severed by a bitter laugh. "The excuses and justifications worked for a while, long enough to put me in a room full of the leaders. I did my job so well, they met to promote me four months in."
Nihlus spun around to look into her eyes. "Four months? But you said you were undercover for six."
"Yeah. I did." She looked away. Working his muscles as if she needed to transmute all her pain into something beautiful, Shepard lavished him with care, the oil sweet, her hands pure bliss. Nihlus's chest rumbled with constant subvocals of support, contentment and love, encouraging her without words … weaving a safe place to continue her story. She'd carried that ugly secret alone for far too long.
"I told myself I needed more intel. I never quite convinced myself, and the muck layer that I'd allowed contaminate my being built up until it exploded. I turned all that shame and anger and hatred—for both myself and the slavers and the batarians … hell, even the Alliance—loose during a planning meeting and painted the walls with gore." He heard her swallow, the sound more a soft moan than anything, and her trembling translated through her touch.
"Sweet baby Jesus, your hide is soaking this stuff up faster than I can apply it," she said, her cheer forced. She patted his backside. "Okay, old guy, roll over."
Nihlus levered himself up into a half pushup sort of position, the oil massage returning some order to his chaotic body functions, and his love's pain anchoring him in something outside his misery. Twisting, he flipped onto his hip and then rolled to lie on his back. Shepard slipped her hand down the inside of his forearm to grip his elbow, helping him sit up while she sorted pillows behind his back.
Instead of letting her return to her work, Nihlus picked up the oil and set it on the bedside table. Holding out his arms, he said, "Come here." Hesitation slithered behind her gaze. He could see the shame whispering its lies and shook his head. "Come on," he coaxed, waving her into his embrace. "You've seen all of my ugly places, and it hasn't changed anything, has it?"
She let out a long sigh, steam escaping a pressure valve, and nodded, stretching out along his side. "I love you more every day, old guy." Nodding, she smiled and relaxed into him. "Okay. Well, I took out the entire lot … thought I had the drop on them, but I'd missed one. She'd stepped out to use the washroom." A long shudder rippled down her body, and she curled in closer, her arm draping over him.
Nihlus nuzzled her temple, the comforting subvocal deepening. Spirits, how could she believe he'd love her less? Everything he learned about her just left him more in awe of her courage and strength. How many people—even turians—could have survived an eighth of what she had? He tightened his grip on her, his thumb talon drawing a long, slow line down her arm.
Shepard rested her head against his. "I was calling in 'mission accomplished, come clean up this mess', when Enara came back in. A biotic, she grabbed me in a stasis field, putting me down before I knew what hit me." Another heavy swallow. "She stuffed me in one of the underground boxes they used for slaves who gave them trouble, and left me there while she ran."
Another shudder racked her too-skinny frame. Rolling toward her, Nihlus wrapped both arms around her, holding her tight.
"Luckily, I'd already called in the clean up crew," she said, her voice soft, the words spoken into his chest. "I was only down there in the dark for three days before they found me. Three days with nothing but my demons and self-loathing for company. I saw it then: how far I'd fallen into being everything I hated … how easily I could have trapped myself in a lifetime of that hatred and vengeance."
She lifted her chin to kiss his mandible, leaning into him, her eyes closed. "When the Alliance found me, my kidneys were shutting down, and I was okay with that. It meant I'd join my family on the other side." She reached behind her back for his hand, drawing it around the front, then weaving her cold, bloodless fingers with his talons. "I spent the next week in the hospital, then asked for mental health leave. They tried to get me to talk to counselors, but I couldn't put what I felt into words. Hell, I couldn't even admit to myself what I felt."
"And where did I come in?" he asked. Mandibles flicking in a smile when she scoffed, he shrugged. "Hey, this is all supposed to be about me, isn't it?" He coaxed her hand to his mouth, warming it with his breath as he nuzzled her knuckles.
Her chuckle eased some of the tightness in his chest. "Of course, forgive me for forgetting." Despite the snark in her tone, he felt her relax. "I was lying in a seedy hotel room in the wards staring at the TV without seeing it when I saw you on the news." She leaned up on her elbow and slid her hand up his keel to cup his cheek. "As you carried that small child out of the fire, I saw something in your eyes that told me you knew. You knew exactly how I felt, and I wasn't alone." Leaning in, she kissed him. "After that, I started working my way out of the black hole I'd fallen into."
He returned her kiss, glad that he'd brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth after the last time he threw up. She tasted like spring, all new life and beginnings, confirming everything he'd known for nearly a decade: those lips ... the body pressed to his … that strong, gorgeous heart beating against his side … they were his home.
"Sometimes," he whispered, careful to coax rather than shatter the peace between them, "we take missions that feed the darkest part of us, and for a while we become everything we normally stand against." Mouths a centimetre apart, brows touching, they shared breath, the sacred envelope around them strengthened. "They teach us, sometimes in the most brutal ways possible, what we won't allow ourselves to become."
"I love you, Nihlus Kryik," she said. She pulled away until their gazes met. "I guess the blessed Enkindlers knew we needed one another long before we did," she said. "Because I went back to work, and after the next mission, I took my leave on Elysium." Her hand squeezed his then released him, reaching over his chest for the oil. "And here we are."
Nihlus caressed her cheek, the fog of pain and need burning away in the light of her gaze. "Praise be the mighty glow of their asses."
(A-N: And we discover why Sassy is afraid of tight spaces. Thank you for sticking with me and these crazy kids. Next stop, Tuchanka to investigating the missing krogan. Hugs to you all.)