Disclaimer: Everything recognisable is Bioware's. Everything else is mine.
A/N: Greetings all and welcome to chapter 9. Apologies again for the time between updates. My jobs are just doing murders to my writing time.
Anyways!
Here it be!
Hope you enjoy.
As always, reviews, thoughts, ideas and conjecture make writers happy and more prolific!
Yours faithfully,
L.G
Going Home
The consequences of kissing Drell, a suspicious package, and a call from Senior make the rest of Shepard's afternoon...interesting…
In a darkened room in a hospital on the Citadel's Presidium, a purely rhetorical question was asked of someone and no one at the same time.
What can make you feel drunk but isn't alcoholic, feel a twinge high but isn't a narcotic, and make stringing together a coherent train of thought damn well impossible when it's at its most potent?
Sitting with her brow against her mate's table as he completed the last of his packing beside her, his eyes unaffected by the dim thanks to the Drellish proclivity for excellent low light vision, Shepard squeezed her eyes shut and fought the urge to titter.
Need a clue? she asked herself gleefully, entirely ok with the fact that she was conducting a conversation inside the walls of her own mind.
It's freely available to me but no one else.
Silence.
No? she thought. Need another? Ok.
It wasn't something I ate, but my mouth had something to do with it.
More silence, this time of the knowing kind.
She smirked. Getting the picture?
Unable to help herself, she snickered quietly and shifted, rubbing her forehead against the table's cool top.
In hindsight, she should have known better.
She'd been pushing it since she arrived, kissing Thane like she had, as many times as she had, as deeply as she had, for as long as she had. Ravenous for the taste of him as she'd been - for the caress of his tongue against hers and the simple tactile pleasure of being intimate with him - she'd known but hadn't acknowledged the risks. Even as they'd worked to get his effects packed away, she hadn't stopped herself. Never getting underfoot of course, never ever that, but when a spare moment presented itself...yes. She'd touched his jaw, drawn him close, and kissed him with all of the affection bubbling inside her soul. It had become a little game almost, seeing how long they could devote their attention to their work before another kiss was needed. Back and forth they'd gone – two books neatly packed while one was perused and read from by Thane…then one book…and then packing was forgotten and their attentions turned fully to one another.
Such had been their preoccupation until about ten minutes ago.
Until a break and the tabletop were needed over and above further kisses.
From somewhere close to where memory is, the last remnants of what had been a pronounced case of the woozies belched up the phrase, Oral contact can cause mild hallucinations in a terribly familiar, honestly helpful Salarian tone. She frowned, inching up slightly to scrub at her eyes before brow met table again with an audible thunk.
It's not something one can become immune against - the kick that Drellish saliva has to it - but like any slightly trippy substance one can get used to it to a point if it's encountered often enough, and she'd certainly had the chance to do that during Thane's first tour aboard the Normandy. By the time they'd been forced apart, her experience of the so-called negative side effects of prolonged 'oral contact' was down to a minimum - the occasional bout of mild wooziness being the worst case scenario.
Now though, it'd been something like seven...maybe closer to eight months since she last kissed him. Last really, really kissed him. And fuck did it show. By the grace of some God or other she wasn't hallucinating. She wasn't that far gone. Drawing on her somewhat extensive experience of Drell-induced-head-trips, she perceived that she was coming down from about stage two out of a possible six - one being nothing but a little dizziness and six the trip equivalent of a force nine gale. Stage two left her pupils over-dilated and her head off-kilter enough to need a break from sharing her beau's more intimate companies, but she was closer to the dizzy end of the spectrum than the liable to start nattering to the nearest set of curtains end, and was otherwise more or less serviceable.
Everything would be back to normal in a couple of minutes.
Honest
A minute into that needed couple, as the tail-end of her bout of wooziness began to settle and a familiar dryness, the precursor to yet another side effect of kissing her mate for extended periods after a seven month drought, made itself at home in her mouth, an equally familiar yet much more welcome presence appeared at her side.
"Siha?" Thane murmured, touching a gentle hand to her shoulder and coaxing her into sitting up.
"M'here, yeah…" she replied as she straightened, her eyes opening only because he'd flicked off the lights and drawn the blinds hanging at his window when her symptoms came on. As she looked around at him, seeing little more than his outline in the dimness, he presented a newly opened half-litre bottle of water to her. He'd bought it with his lunch, and knew that, if the course of her mild Drell-induced affliction was going to hold true to its usual course -
..wooziness coming first - anything from mild dizziness to complete disorientation; then aversion to light, along with the occasional visual hallucination; and finally, along with the former three, absolutely ravening thirst..
- she'd need it momentarily.
It took a few seconds, but soon her hand reached. The bottle was pressed into her fingers with practiced ease as she croaked a plaintive, 'Parched!' And she drank deeply, managing a 'Thank you' somewhere between her first three swigs.
Frowning with disquiet, Thane retook the seat beside her and touched his hands to her knee, watching her attentively. "I would apologise" he began, honest regret for her condition in his voice. "But..."
"Don't" Shepard cut in, panting between gulps and smiling after her next mouthful. "There's no need. I'm fine. Just thirsty."
Thane gave a slight nod, her smile reflected in his eyes. "The cause is too treasured a thing to express contrition over, is it not?"
"That" she replied, nodding in agreement and canting her head towards him. "And it's part of you. I won't let you be sorry about that. And besides-" Quirking her brows and giving a purposefully overt and flirtatious grin, she concluded, "The side effects get better with practice, so…we'll just have to practice, won't we."
Her mate chuffed mirthfully. "Indeed" he said, the affection in his voice implying that a great deal more about the situation than the kisses they had and would again share was treasured. Shepard 'hmmm'd agreeably in response, taking another swig from the bottle before setting her mind to tightening her proverbial bootlaces and getting on with the day. With their departure imminent, she was all out of time for spending on being gleefully woozied by her beau's kisses.
There was work to do.
Puffing out a determined breath, she steeled herself, sat the bottle on the table, and shifted around in her seat so that she could face him. She still saw little more than an outline, but it was a more defined one now that he was sitting so close to her. "Setting aside my...ahhh...issues for a minute" she said conversationally, gesturing to her face to indicate both her eyes and her slowly dimming yet still present thirst. "Are we ready to move out?"
Thane hesitated. "I am packed, yes, but there is no rush-"
"Have to hustle, remember?" Shepard put in, arching her brows. "The doc-"
"Can wait until you are well enough to make the journey." There was a note of finality in his voice that was unmistakeable, and that same note coloured her reply. She changed her argument on a credit, erring towards the truth of things instead of invoking Chakwas.
"You're right, but this isn't about her." Shepard reached for him then, her questing fingers finding his hands easily. He took them as she took his, squeezing gently to emphasise her point. "I need to get you out of here" she said, looking about as furtive as a woman with over-dilated pupils rightly could. "I want you home, and since you're ready I'm done waiting."
A muted rumble of dissent greeted her insistence, and she felt Thane shift closer to her; felt his breath on her cheeks and his hands move from hers to cup carefully above her eyes, seemingly shading them from light that wasn't there.
"Close them" he said.
She did, frowning curiously at the request.
"What's the game?"
"Lights" Thane instructed, addressing the room's VI, "raise fifty percent."
Her breath caught as the newly raised ambient light trickled through her eyelids. Thane's answering chuff had a vague 'I told you so' air to it, but he didn't comment on her reaction directly. Instead he said, "Try and open them now, Siha. I will not move my hands."
It was all she could do not to whine pitifully. "Are you kidding?"
"Not in the least."
Grumbling, the Commander did as she was told and regretted it instantly. Even with the help of his hands, the light was piercing. She could see, sure, but her eyes would begin streaming if she kept using them for too long. With a groan-come-sigh, she forced them closed.
"Fine" she griped, thoroughly peeved at her body for betraying her when she needed it. Hunching over slightly, she retreated behind her hands, rubbing her palms over her eyes and screwing her face up with discomfort. "Point made."
Thane, moved by her obvious dejection, issued a sharp command to the VI - "Lights, off" - touched his hands to her knees again, and put thought into remedying her problem. Keeping the lights in the room off was out. Much as it might assist her in the short term, he knew from experience that this particular part of her body's reaction to him could last for up to three quarters of an hour, and he was sure that even the diligent and patient Karin Chakwas would begin getting irritated if they kept her waiting for that long.
They'd already spent half an hour dallying over getting him packed.
Added to that, keeping the lights off here would make those in the corridor seem all the brighter, and he needed his Siha functional, not blinded, if she was to accompany him to the ship with as much decorum as possible. It wouldn't do for the public at large to see her led stumblingly along a hospital corridor by a Drellish gentleman.
People would talk.
Considering their predicament, he glanced about the room in search of inspiration, only to have it come from she whom he was seeking to assist. She sat up a little, knuckling at her eyes as she huffed, "Haven't we got a shade or something?"
This prod was all he needed.
The word 'shade' reminded him of a human idiom he had learnt from her long back - 'shades' - sunglasses.
Those he had a pair of.
They would work like a charm.
"We have in fact" he said, easing away from her and making for the smallest of his three bags. The red pair of glasses he'd procured during their first tour was found quickly and brought over, his now curiously watchful mate focusing on them when he settled beside her and presented them. Though she could only make out their basic shape in the dim, her face lit with recognition.
"I know these!" she enthused, taking them carefully and giving them a once-over.
"As you should" Thane grinned, "You helped pick them out." Sobering then, he said, "I believe they may help to keep the light at manageable levels, but we will need to field-test them to be positive." He arched his brows in question, nodding towards the VI's panel on the wall by the door. "Shall we?"
Shepard had the glasses on before he finished speaking. "Lights" she said, "raise one hundred percent."
Sterile white light bathed the room, and both she and Thane clamped their eyes closed against it. She cursed, he gave a low hiss-come-rumble of obvious discomfort, and then silence fell until a distinctly sheepish voice spoke up.
"Sorry" she managed, cracking her eyes open, both hands set to holding the glasses as firmly against her face as possible.
"A little warning next time, perhaps, hm?" he re-joined without a hint of real antagonism in his tone. She had given more than enough warning, in all honesty, for him to guard himself against the light's sudden intrusion. He'd simply been so caught up in engaging her that it filtered through his distraction too late for a timely response.
"Sorry" she repeated, giving him a grin as, once again, their eyes met. She was still squinting slightly behind the glasses. "On the plus side, they're working. I can see just fine."
"Oh?" he said, cocking his head curiously to the right. "I can tell by your brow that you're frowning, love. You look pained."
She scoffed softly. "Maybe a little, but that was my fault. Blinding flash of light and all. Besides…look." Reaching out to him in an attempt to prove just how well she could see, she found the pentagonal splotch of deep green upon his brow and gently, accurately, traced its edges. "See?" She moved on to the speckles dotted about it, then traced the first of the prominent ridges on the crown of his head. "No problems."
Thane tilted his head up as her fingers retreated, rumbling pleasurably as their pads stroking past his right frill for his effort in meeting them. "I am convinced" he proclaimed, nodding as her face lit up.
"We can get going then?" she asked hopefully, quite literally on the edge of her seat with anticipation for the all clear.
"In a moment, perhaps."
"Perhaps?" she parroted, visibly deflating. "I can see fine, Thane! This room has lights that put Sol to shame and I can see fine." A playfully suspicious cast took her expression and her tone then, a memory coming to her. "Is this you trying to draw out our private time or something? Not that I mind, it's just-"
"The doctor is waiting" he said. "Yes, I know. And no, my motives are not based upon my want to remain in your private company for as long as possible. The want is as keen as ever, naturally-" He slid his hands a measured distance along her thighs as he spoke, squeezing gently before stroking them back down towards her knees. "But it does not impel me now."
"It's as keen for me too" she assured him, smiling at his touch and reaching again to trace the curving edge of his right frill. He returned her smile as she asked, "So what's with the perhaps? Got something left to do here, or...?"
"I have" he said. "As do you."
"Oh?"
His answer was spoken as though he was pointing out the obvious. "We cannot leave if you're so disorientated that keeping your feet is tasking for you, can we?"
Shepard blinked, then understood.
"Right" she said, eyes closing behind her glasses. Of course they couldn't leave yet. There were tests to perform; three in total that they had perfected over their time together as a way of gauging how well she was recovering from…well…him.
She stood, Thane standing with her. "You want me to…" she began, gesturing to the glasses. She knew what was coming, and knew as well that he was watching her closely as she walked to the centre of the room. "I do" he replied, noting the seeming steadiness of her gait with cautious approval, "but not before we lower the lights. I won't have you blinded. Lights-" he addressed the VI, "lower to ten percent." To Shepard then, Thane spoke as the room fell dim. "Let us see if this level pains you."
Here was test the first: seeing if she could handle ANY light with naked eyes.
"Yessir" she quipped, closing her eyes tightly as she removed the glasses and handed them back to him. She blinked quickly moments later, testing herself before committing and fully opening her eyes. The room was filled with a soft glow, revealing to her the concerned look on her mate's face when she looked around at him. She winced, and squinted, but didn't need to close her eyes again.
She was beginning to adjust.
"There" Shepard said as Thane drew near, pocketing the glasses and looking closely at her eyes; inspecting them as he had every time she had needed to go through this as a result of their indulging their desire for each other a little too vigorously. Her irises were little more than slim rings of blue but, after a quick mental comparison with long-past repetitions of this examination, Thane was sure that she had been worse off before. Added to that, he could tell that she was alert and focused on him.
Things were nowhere near as bad as they could have been.
"Very good" he mused, stepping back a pace then and, in preparation for the next test, taking her chin in his left hand to keep her head still. "If you would, love-" he prompted, raising his right forefinger and waiting as ever for her acquiescing nod before moving his hand slowly to the left, then back to the right, watching her eyes as they followed it.
This was the second test: whether she could focus properly on a moving object.
"I got this…" she murmured, smiling with the very corners of her lips.
"You do" he agreed, stilling his hand then and moving it slowly towards the tip of her nose. This part, strictly speaking, didn't have any real diagnostic benefit. It was a bit of fun really - a nod to the fact that, unlike humans and because of their inner eyelids, Drell cannot cross their eyes - but they had done it since the need to test her alertness began and weren't about to stop now. It gave them the perfect excuse to reclaim a little of the intimacy her moment of wooziness had stolen from them, after all.
When a scaled fingertip stroked the tip of her nose, Shepard blinked, refocusing her just crossed eyes on her mate's face. At the affection shown upon it clearly, she smiled. "We on the last test now?"
"We are" Thane confirmed, tipping his chin up a hint for her before releasing her hand and stepping back so he could properly observe her.
"So, I'll just..."
"Please" he nodded, grinning then as he added in a dulcet purr, "Ten-hut."
Fourteen years in the military, and she'd never snapped to for inspection as eagerly as she did when he said that word in that tone of voice.
Here was the last test: that of spatial and bodily co-ordination. It had been her idea to base it on simple drill postures and manoeuvres. She knew them so well that they came to her as second nature, and required not even a half-second's thought to perform, unless she was suffering still from the effects of his kisses. Then, what with the cursing and the tripping and the toppling over, things got messy. Now though, as she stood stock still, her feet together, back and shoulders rigid, hands unmoving, eyes front, looking past him and never in his eyes, there was nothing of mess. Nothing of waste. Here was a soldier awaiting an order, not a woman who, five minutes ago, was blinded by ambient light.
Slowly, as he always did at this point in the proceedings, Thane walked in a loose circle around his mate. Officially he was observing her posture, looking for wavers or signs of inattention. Unofficially…he was admiring her just as openly as he ever did when sharing her private company; minding the slope of her lower back, the shape of her rear and the flare of her hips just as avidly as he did her poise. It took a herculean effort not to touch her as he made his evaluations, but he did not.
The test was not complete.
Standing before her again and knowing better than to try and catch her eye, he appraised her for a moment longer and then gave the order she looked to be waiting for. "Right turn."
From her there was not a hesitation, not a smile, not a flinch of levity shown as she executed the command and turned, without taking a step, ninety degrees to the right. Again she stood, the movement finished, in perfect stillness but for her breathing, unfazed by the change of direction. Steady on her feet.
Pleased by the display, Thane issued a second, more challenging command. "About turn." Were she woozy enough to have problems, it would show now more than ever. Properly completing this manoeuvre without tripping over one's feet requires, if not perfect bodily control, a degree of it which would be unreachable for her if she was suffering.
Again though, she moved in place, turning on her heel and snapping to at the completion of the movement. There was not a single loss of balance. Not a whisper of slacking form or disorientation. Satisfied, Thane nodded to himself and issued a final command, "Right turn", to bring her back around to her original position, her gaze off over his shoulder, body straight and aligned.
He was convinced, if cautious still.
He would watch her closely, but she was fit enough to leave for the Normandy.
Knowing she wouldn't meet his eyes until she knew the test was over, Thane warmed his expression and stepped close to her, touching his hands to her arms and speaking her love-name, "Siha.." by way of calling time. She came alive against him as soon as the first syllable left his lips, grinning up at him as she asked, "Did I win?" with jovial ease.
He chuckled, drawing her against his body and revelling in the feeling of her hands easing beneath the casually un-tucked edge of his shirt and the high waist of his trousers to stroke the small of his back. "I believe I may have.." he mused, touching their brows together gently instead of leaning to share with her the kiss he so wanted to. "As long as you are sure that you feel well enough, we may leave as soon as you're ready" he said. "I am as eager as you to be elsewhere."
"I'll bet" Shepard replied, leaning up a little and pressing into him a hint more firmly. "And I am sure. Trust me, I've drilled with a hangover and two hours sleep. I'll survive the halls and streets between here and the ship with sore eyes, a dry mouth and very slight dizziness."
As he rumbled his agreement, she pulled back slightly and nosed her way beneath his jaw, sampling the soft warmth of his pleats against her cheek before giving that closest to her lips a gentle kiss and breathing her most personal truth, 'I love you', to him. Although it was not openly acknowledged as such, they both knew what this moment was, innocuous as it may have seemed to the objective observer. With all else in place and their departure looming, this would be the last truly private time they could spend together before they were behind locked doors aboard the Normandy, and neither, despite their want to leave, wanted it to end.
No matter how practiced they were at it or how long they would spend together privately, the moments just before they once again had to put distance between themselves never got easier.
Her beau returned the gesture in kind, tightening his embrace about her and suckling a delicate kiss upon her throat as he replied, "And I love you", and they both took a moment to simply breathe in the other before they stepped back, public masks replacing the openness and affection that had coloured their expressions seconds prior. As if to cement the change, Shepard greeted him.
"Krios" she said, nodding crisply.
Thane mimicked the nod. "Commander."
Needing to keep somewhat clear of him now to make the unwelcome but necessary professional distance easier to palate, Shepard turned to the three bags he had set out neatly nearby. She picked up the middle sized one - a canvassy duffel bag that was once hers - before he could play the chivalry card and take them all himself, and shucked it up onto her back as Thane sat the smallest atop the largest - those being respectively his book bag and a roomy wheeled suitcase - and turned back to her once they were properly balanced. Without a word, he fished the sunglasses she would need for the journey from his pocket and handed them to her, watching as she slipped them on and gathered up what was left of her half-litre of water.
"Lights" she said after nabbing a quick sip, "raise to one hundred percent."
There was no cursing this time as the light came. Wincing, yes, but no cursing. As her vision settled, she gave a mock grimace, then shared a knowing smile with her mate.
It was time to go.
Thane made it to the Patients' Lounge a clear fifteen seconds before Shepard, her disinclination for appearing publicly to be anything more to him than his commanding officer, added to her need to keep an eye on his six in case of trouble, keeping her at his back.
Hospital setting or not, old habits don't die.
Because of her caution, she missed the formative moments of the glowing welcome he received from Doctor Chakwas and a Salarian gentleman she didn't recognise, but was welcomed easily into their little group when they saw her; the good doctor quirking her brows and giving the glasses she wore and bottle she carried a pointed look.
"Feeling well, Commander?" she asked as Shepard set down the bag she'd been carrying, innocence clothing shrewd words. After a tour in which 'psoriasis' and other Drell-related issues cropped up often, Karin knew damn well what tinted shades and sudden dehydration meant.
Drellish kisses.
Lots of Drellish kisses.
Shepard fenced at the jibe, though managed a grin. "Not a word" she warned, feigning affront as the doctor chuckled and asking, "Did Williams make a break for it when I wasn't looking?" to try and divert attention from her newly acquired facial adornment and keen thirst.
"She did" Karin replied, letting her off the hook and nodding, after speaking a cordial, preparatory, "Commander", to the unfamiliar gentleman standing to her immediate right. Brown skinned, with a creamy throat and wise, yellowish-copper eyes, he beamed at Shepard when she looked at him. "This is Doctor Ira Pyral."
Although her expression remained as open and friendly as it could when half hidden behind her shades, recognition sent Shepard's heart into her throat. "Thane's primary physician" she recounted from memory, swallowing thickly as the enormity of quite who this happily nodding man was sent her cold. For a moment, she was floored; floored and damn glad she was wearing tinted glasses. Gathering herself, she mustered a respectful, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor", before taking his offered hand and shaking it firmly; the words she next spoke carrying a degree of understatement so great that it was frankly incalculable. "It'll never be enough to simply say this, but thank you. Your work has saved the life of one of my dearest friends, and for that I'll be indebted to you until long after my time has passed."
"A pleasure, Commander" the gentlemanly Salarian said. "A pleasure. And gratitude? Yes, well, I understand that. Of course. But it's unnecessary. I did my job. We...my colleagues and I...did our jobs, nothing more."
"I hope you'll pardon my saying" Shepard put in. "But there's doing a job, and then there's performing a miracle."
Pyral waved her words off. "Miracle? No. Science, Commander. Medicine. Initiative. Not a miracle." He looked around quickly, wetting his lips and stepping a hint closer before adding, "I know Professor Solus well. Was a colleague of his earlier in my career. Always knew he was forward-thinking...ambitious...but this…" He drew in a breath, narrowing his eyes and nodding again as he exhaled.
Shepard smiled, the expression measured but kind. "What you've done for Thane certainly is that" she said, glancing at him and receiving a smile that was as measured as that which she'd just given Pyral. A soft intake of breath from the doctor and a light touch upon her arm turned her attention back to him. His expression was a mixture of excitement and consideration, and she could see a mental debate waging behind his eyes. After a moment's pause he came to a conclusion, catching her gaze as he spoke.
"Can tell you this" he said. "It's not just for Thane, Commander, but for the Drell as a whole."
Piqued by his wording, his audience of three would have probed him for more details on that particular phrase, Mordin's mentions of 'outside applications' coming back to them when it was said, but they never got the chance. A call from the reception desk –
"Commander Shepard! Over here please!"
- cut them off.
Shepard, on high alert as she was being that the most precious person in her life was well within collateral damage range if someone decided to take a shot at her, tensed and snapped her attention towards the speaker. Staring back at her was an Asari who looked, thanks to the intensity in her expression, like she wished she hadn't called out to her at all. The Commander paused markedly, assessing the situation in the space of a breath and a half -
..She's unlikely to be a Cerberus plant. Asari are too proud a race to ally themselves with the likes of the Illusive Man. She could be a Batarian sympathiser, but that seems far-fetched. I don't know her face, but that only means I've missed her shift in my previous visits, not that she's been shoehorned in in the last few days to off me..
- before turning to Thane and raising a questioning brow. If the Asari was safe, he'd know. He was better at watching his surroundings than she was, and it was her role and duty as the leader of a squad to be as proficient at that as it was humanly possible to be. Understanding her predicament, her mate gave a slight nod, identifying the woman as both known to him and harmless. She returned it, then excused herself from the group and made her way towards the desk; sitting her water bottle atop it and doing her best to be sociable once she arrived.
"You needed me, miss?"
"Sorry to bother you Commander" the Asari enthused, maintaining a professional air despite the woman's terseness. "I have a package here for you."
"What is it?"
"I'm not entirely sure ma'm" she replied, leaning down and producing the package from behind the desk. She missed how Shepard's shoulders tensed with readiness and suspicion by a hairs breadth. "It came up from the hospital's stores about an hour ago. The transfer authorisation lists it as 'Medicinal' only, and it was signed off on by one Mordin Solus..." Looking at the Commander curiously, she pushed the box across to her. "Do you know a Mordin Solus?"
"Do I know a-" Shepard huffed, stopping herself from repeating the entire question in disbelief. "I do, yes, hold on now-" Hesitant despite the familiar name, she activated her Omni-tool and scanned the package, seeking out possible toxins, bombs, and other such devices that may have been snuck inside by the ever-present paranoia-born malefactor she was convinced was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When the scan came up clean, she smiled at the attendant, thanked her for the delivery, and shuffled further along the desk with both box and water bottle so other people could be seen to while she dealt with it. It was about a foot square, metal, white and apparently, going on the little green light flashing on the interface in its rightmost corner, sealed against contaminants.
Shepard appraised it approvingly.
This is proper professional stuff…
Unsure how else to open it, she gave the interface a poke. It lit up cheerfully at the contact and requested a thumbprint for identity verification; which Shepard, too curious to give it a second thought, provided post-haste. A bleep and a hiss later, the box opened; greeting the Commander with a soft waft of cool air and a note written in Basic in a hand she recognised. Picking it out, she read:
'Commander. Know that Thane is leaving with you. Knew he would be discharged, and that you would be there when he was. Know you, Shepard. Left package during last visit with instructions that it be released to you when Thane's discharge finalised. Will either be passed to you directly, or be forwarded to Normandy if administrators at hospital miss you. Personally hope for hand-to-hand transfer as opposed to delivery. Less chance of damage that way. Enclosed is topical ointment for treatment of psoriasis-'
Pausing, Shepard scrabbled for a quick sip of water and looked beyond the note into the box. The round lids of six very familiar pots stared right back at her. Poking around them, the faint touch of the box's internal cooling system catching her fingers as she went, she shook her head in disbelief, spluttering, "Oh I'm gonna…That cheeky son of a Pyjak" before giving a choked hack of laughter and reading on.
'-Hope it helps. Will need it, I think. Will be in touch soon. Have news for you. Updates. Must dash. - M'
Still snickering as she finished the note, she slipped it back where it came from and, earning an odd look from the Asari attendant for her seemingly random laughing fit, shut the box quickly, gathered her bottle, and hustled over to her beau and his luggage. Tucking the former beneath his book bag and having another sip from the latter, she answered his curious, "Commander?" with three little words.
"Mordin. Skin cream."
Thane paused, caught on, and nictitated his inner eyelids once in purposefully muted recognition. "Ah" he opined curtly, fighting down a smirk and turning to the now bemused Doctor Pyral. "A gift" he explained, pointedly ignoring Chakwas's greatly restrained laughter and giving his most placid smile to both she and his soon-to-be former primary physician.
"Shall we get going, doctors?" he asked then, looking between them and Shepard hopefully. "If we are to go through my care-plan aboard the ship, it would be to the benefit of all concerned if we left promptly."
None amid the group could argue his logic.
With a final look back, they left the hospital, Thane, Pyral, and Chakwas at the head of the group and the ever watchful (and now baggage-laden) Shepard at the rear. As the second set of glass doors swished closed at her back, she scanned the area, focused on her mate's back as he strode along, and pushed a deep breath out through a smile. This was it. They were going home. And Gods as her witness, if she had her way, they, she and Thane, would never come back.
Half an hour after leaving the hospital, Shepard found herself alone with her beau's luggage in the Normandy's elevator. He and his doctors had departed for the medical bay a couple of minutes prior, and that left her with at least an hour of free time in which she planned to ready their room for his arrival.
After poking the [Floor 1] button on the elevator's interface, she stood back and waited, the familiar purr of the various mechanics that drove the thing filling the air as floor three, where she'd been wishing Thane luck for his care-plan talk just before entering the lift, gave way to floor two. Then though..between floors two and one, her hoped for destination, the purr became a dull hum and the elevator slowed to a crawl. Frowning, she poked the [Floor 1] button again, wondering what the hell had happened to the usual brisk clip at which the elevator travelled. Her answer came in the form of a voice and a flicker of purple light - the holographic orb that represented EDI appearing on the little dais that sat below the lift's interface.
-/Commander/-
"EDI? Are you messing with the lift's controls or something?"
-/I am/- the AI replied, unrepentant.
Shepard bristled, her patience for hold-ups wearing desperately thin after so long a day. "Why?"
-/I have a question/-
Staring at the glowing sphere for a moment, the Commander pushed her beau's glasses further up on her nose and sighed quietly to herself. "What is it?" she asked, seeing no other way out of the situation but to humour her.
-/It concerns Sere Krios's reaction to my...mobile platform../-
Shepard frowned slightly, recalling the situation she was referring to. The Normandy had been almost deserted when they came aboard, all but a skeleton crew having moved on out to the Citadel's numerous attractions as the ship was run through its maintenance cycle. Even Joker had taken leave of his post, leaving EDI's new body to act as greeter for the recently returned foursome.
Although she and Chakwas batted nary an eyelid, used to her as they were, Thane and Pyral had done double takes of surprising force when she rose from her seat and reintroduced herself. She'd lied quite openly to appease the shocked Salarian, assuring him that she was 'merely a platform for the Normandy's state of the art VI', but that didn't stop the moment from being hellish awkward, or dull the shock Thane got at seeing her up, walking, and potentially armed.
Curious of how EDI had perceived the situation, she asked, "Oh? What about it?"
-/He seemed...uncertain/- she said, her tone curious, -/yet he expressed nothing indicating unease with my presence during our prior acquaintance. I don't understand the sudden change. Mr Vakarian handled my transfer well…as did Joker and Doctor T'Soni. Precedent suggests that he should also handle the change well./-
"Well..." Shepard tried, picking her words carefully so that she didn't come off as condescending. It was a difficult balance to strike, particularly since the AI, for all her massive intellect, obviously lacked any kind of social conditioning and had a distinct tendency to take a one size fits all approach to dealing with organics. "Everyone's different, EDI."
-/Clarify/-
Shepard shook her head, huffing out a breath and taking a sip of water to buy herself some time. She'd known what Thane was doing the second she saw the surprise in his face become absolute focus. He was assessing her mobile platform in much the same way he did opponents on the field, seeking out the most effective ways of disabling her physically should she pose a threat. It was nothing personal, and took no regard of their past acquaintance or of memories he might have of her being a productive and cooperative member of the team. It was just his way; a knee-jerk response to a new circumstance that had been trained into him by the Hanar.
Sipping again from the bottle, she looked at EDI and tried to form her knowledge into some kind of answer for her; preferably one that wouldn't paint her mate in a discourteous light. He was the least from discourteous. He was simply a life-trained assassin who, at the moment in question, had had an unwelcome shock and reacted as anyone else in his position would have.
Pragmatically and in line with their training.
"Thane isn't used to you having a physical body" she began. "During the course of the day, with everything that's been going on, it slipped my mind to tell him about you. I've got so used to you, it didn't even cross my mind."
There was a pause as her audience contemplated her offering. -/I see/- she said. -/Perhaps I should have given an audible preamble before introducing myself physically. Would that have been appropriate, Commander?/-
Shepard smiled. EDI's questions had become more regular recently, and concerned everything from appropriate idiom use to full on questions on philosophy. It seemed as if she was trying to puzzle out how to think in ways or take account of things that she hadn't been programmed to, and while the mechanics behind that baffled the Commander, she couldn't help liking the idea.
"I think it would have been, yes" she said, "but the situation didn't really lend itself to separate introductions. You did the right thing."
-/Noted/- She paused, then asked, -/Did I initiate a positive reacquaintance with Sere Krios? Despite his unease?/-
And there it was again, that whisper of her trying to perceive and understand interaction in ways that were outside of her programming. Acquaintance-making certainly wasn't in the handbook. Tech-savvy or not, Shepard knew that much.
"I'd say so" she smiled. "You just gave him a start, that's all. He'll warm to the new you in time, just like Garrus and the rest of the crew have."
That paused her. -/An extranet search of Drellish social mores surrounding surprise does not match Sere Krios's reac-../-
"Different, EDI" Shepard repeated, stressing the word. "You can't predict how a person will display an emotion with one hundred percent accuracy by comparing them to xenobiological texts online. It doesn't matter the race. Everyone's shaped by the life they've lived, just as much as they are by the race they're a part of."
Another pause. -/So I should take account of the backgrounds of the organics I encounter when analysing their behaviours and framing appropriate responses?/-
"Yes" she replied simply, not wanting to give the AI any more lines of questioning than absolutely necessary. Much as she didn't mind answering a couple, she had work to do that was leagues more important than illuminating her ship on the finer points of societal etiquette.
Luckily, EDI seemed happy with her answer. -/Very well. Thank you, Commander/- she said, adding then, -/The purchases you made earlier in the day have been moved up to your quarters./- Her tone changed from conversational to chiding as she ribbed, -/I noticed no live animal transfer forms with the documentation the courier delivered. Have you foregone fish-keeping as a hobby?/-
"Oh ha ha" Shepard drawled, poking the [Floor 1] button in the hope that her captor would get the message and put her journey back on track. "Do you mind?" she asked. "I've got places to be now."
-/Of course, Commander/- EDI said, the elevator's once dull hum becoming its usual purr as it was released from whatever shackles she had put upon it. With a glib -/Enjoy/- her hologram dissipated, leaving Shepard to stare at its now vacant dais for the remaining half minute or so of her trip.
Lip from an AI, she scoffed, smirking faintly, tiredly. Whatever next.
When at last Shepard stepped into her quarters, her water bottle and Mordin's box of 'gifts' tucked securely under her arm and her beau's assorted luggage at her heel, she found, as EDI promised she would, a small assortment of packages with the Bio-wares Interspecies Health Store logo on the side piled up just inside the door. She grinned at the array as she passed, making haste for the small panel just by the stairs leading down into the sleeping area so she could dim the lights to a more appropriate level.
Much as her eyes were quickly returning to their usual sans-Drell state, they were sensitive still and would appreciate lowered lights.
As the semi-dark fell, she pulled off her borrowed glasses, sat them, her bottle, and Mordin's box on her desk, and set Thane's gear down on the floor beside it for a moment so she could give her arms and back a rest. After a quick stretch, she shrugged off her jacket and returned her attention to the boxes that had been delivered while she was out. Looking at them, she had to resist the urge to rub her hands together gleefully. Everything was coming together as planned.
Alight with excitement at finally getting underway, Shepard began her mission to move Thane back in by conveying his case and bags down into her living area. She knew, thanks to a helpful tip he'd given her, which contained the bulk of his clothing, so she sat the two she wouldn't be decanting into her closet beside the couch across the way and set about making room in there for the contents of the third.
With her modest wardrobe's doors opened before her, she assessed the view critically.
Two jackets...No…Wait…
Hurrying over to her discarded leather, she scooped it up and hung it carefully beside its compatriots before getting back to her audit.
Three jackets…One for formal occasions and two for casual, civilian ones.
Three sets of clean civvies…Four if you count those I'm wearing now.
Two pairs of pressed dress trousers.
Two pressed white dress shirts.
She stooped then, opening the draws that sat beneath the wardrobe's main hanging area, her mental tally continuing.
Under-things in the left draw.
Socks in the right.
Right...I can work with that…
With making room for her beau in mind, she scooped up the contents of draw-the-right and deposited them amid the contents of draw-the-left; a small tidal wave of undergarments escaping from their usual places as she fought to cram them all into half the space they were accustomed to. It took some serious ingenuity (and the requisition of an old shoe box from the wardrobe's deep back) to free up draw-the-right for Thane's use, but after five tense minutes of sorting she was in the clear and the first of his clothes could be made at home.
Checking through each article she picked out of his case to make sure it didn't need a trip below with her next load of laundry, she found, to her wry amusement though at no great surprise, that everything she yet encountered had been freshly laundered before being packed. Snickering openly at the thought of the consternation her notoriously cleanly mate's penchant for keeping his clothing as neat and tidy as he kept himself must have caused the staff at Huerta, Shepard placed the smallest items she could find - underwear for the most part, though a particularly light pair of trousers also passed muster - into the draw and slid it closed before moving on with her unpacking.
His coat emerged next, and was lovingly embraced by her before being rehomed upon a hanger right beside her own leather. Looking at them hanging by each other, she entertained the thought, for a brief moment, of having them share a single hanger - having his lay over and around hers - but she dismissed the idea quickly. Sweet as it might have been, she didn't want to either wreck the hanger, or end up damaging either article of clothing.
Her mind settled on that, she moved on, shoving her gear as far over into the left side of the wardrobe as possible so her beau's had enough room to settle in. Four light cotton shirts were hung first in that space, followed by two pairs of trousers, two pairs of what she was sure, going on their sleekness, were workout shorts, three vests - two cotton, one almost Lycra-like in tightness and texture - and finally, sat in the bottom alongside her own meagre lot, three pairs of shoes. His - two pairs of soft looking loafer-types, much akin to those he had been wearing today, that she assumed were the most comfortable choice for a gentleman who was making a steady return to health in a hospital setting; and one pair of what appeared to be relatively new combat boots. And hers - other than the combats she was wearing now, one pair of trainers; one pair of dutifully shined dress shoes; and one pair of ungodly heels that she'd next wear after surviving an hour's sunbathing on Haestrom. Every time she wore them she came off second best. The damn things were a health risk. Period.
Refocusing on her task after a moment of pointed glaring at the offending heels, Shepard made sure that there was room enough still within the wardrobe for the inevitable addition of further garments, before turning back to her beau's open case in search of the next item to convey from it to its new home. Looking within though, she frowned. It seemed at first glance that she'd reached the bottom, nothing but blackness meeting her curious gaze, but when she tipped her head slightly she caught sight of a familiar ripple of blueish-purple fabric and knew then that there was something more to be had.
Something a little bit special even.
After wiping her hands on her trousers, unwilling as she was to chance sweating all over that which resided at the bottom of her mate's case, she knelt down and sunk her fingers deep into the folds of their once-shared favourite blanket; that which he had rescued from her quarters before he left, and which had, for the past months, made its home upon his bed in the hospital. An appreciative murmur escaping her as she curled her fingers through the material, Shepard located the near side of the obviously meticulously folded item and opened it out, thinking to unfurl it and lay it back where it belonged upon their bed. Before she could though, she felt something heavy against her exploring fingers. Cool and pliable, it was the antithesis of the velvety textures it sat amongst, and though she tried she couldn't for the life of her place what it could be by touch alone.
Her curiosity piqued, she dug down through what felt like a foot of fabric, billowing folds of the stuff escaping their confines and spilling over the sides of the case until, with a final fold-back of a particularly encompassing layer, what was once hidden was revealed. There, amid softness and comfort, sat a set of her mate's work attire; the tight, black, single-piece suit of leather that, while highlighting the wonders three decades of training can do to a physique, stood, in her mind at least, for that part of his life for which he had been volunteered before he was old enough to refuse it.
Although she didn't mean to, she frowned as she looked at the thing, observing it sitting quite purposefully within what had once been a sanctuary for she and Thane. Its placement didn't shock her, unwelcome as it was. Her beau likely cared for it, especially since it was integral to his trade, so squirreling it away somewhere that would protect it from bumps in transit was wise. She'd have done the same, and indeed had done in the past when she had to move her dress gear from place to place, but that didn't make seeing it among folds within which they had made everything from the most tender to the most impassioned love any more pleasant. She remembered clearly the evenings that they had spent curled against each other within the very space it had usurped - naked skin to naked scales as they sated their need to simply be near each other. To touch, explore, and experience one another within their deeply textured nest. They had lost countless hours of perfectly good sleeping time within these very folds and now… Now a splodge of matte leather that had no right being where it was had gone and invaded their place. There was no two ways about it. It had to be moved.
Straightening up, Shepard gathered the offending garment from within its blankety covering and turned back to her wardrobe to find it a new home. Despite the fact that she knew it was well armoured in places - the knees and ankles especially, as well as around the hips - it was surprisingly light; its upper panels giving malleably beneath her fingers as she explored them. Testing the material, she came to a decision. It would need to be folded carefully and sat somewhere flat if it was to remain undamaged. Hanging it up would likely stretch it, and she had no intention of going shopping for another set during the four days of shore leave she'd allotted this morning.
She and Thane had a blanket to make extensive and complete use of after all.
The thought of liberating their once-nest from its prison quickening her, she did her best to imitate the precise folds which had allowed her beau to pack the suit so snugly, found it a spot atop her underwear draws and sat it down carefully, closing the wardrobe and making a final stop by the case to free the luxurious expanse of rippling material. With a little smile and a careful tug she pulled it out and held it up to her face, nuzzling her nose and lips against it and revelling in both the textured softness of the thing, and the faint male Drell scent it carried from having enfolded her mate for so long. It was a very delicate thing, Drell being a comparatively quiet race in terms of odours, but it was there nonetheless; strange, hard to place, and vaguely reminiscent of the scent of human skin that had been out in the sun and then washed with Thane's favourite mild soap; musky and warm and inviting of her.
After a deep breath was taken in and huffed out, Shepard picked her way over to her bed and unfolded the blanket to its full size. Easily eight feet by eight feet, it dwarfed her as she worked on getting it laid out correctly, its billowing folds becoming quite the challenge to master until, after a little ingenuity and a carefully made fold down the encompassing thing's middle, it floated down across the bed's foot just as she wished it to. Just as it had before she and Thane had been forced to part ways. She eyed it for at least a minute, stroking out creases and making sure it sat just so before giving it an approving nod and ambling past her mate's remaining luggage, which was for him to unpack wherever he wished to, so she could deal with the boxes amassed by the room's entrance. They would need sorting out before she could even half consider herself ready to receive him.
Looking between them, Mordin's small box and the three large, she decided to tend to that which presented less of an obstacle first and headed for the former; gathering it up and entering the bathroom to unpack it and set its contents in their rightful place on her shelves. Opening it with another thumb-press upon its glowing interface, she tsk'd, smiled, and shook her head, producing one of the six pots that inhabited it and reading the label out loud. "Psoriasis treatment for A. Shepard, only. Suitable for…private use. Enjoy, Commander. M." Shepard bit her lip to try and stop it, but laughed anyway. Slathering a little on her hands, face and forearms now, she swore to herself that next time she saw the Professor, and she would come hell or high water, she'd make a point of thanking him for his foresight, as well as for all of the other things she was indebted to him for.
The pots neatly set out on her shelves - between her clean towel stash and the small mountain of tubs of antiseptic cream she kept around for after missions - she emerged once more into the main body of her room and turned to the boxes she had yet to unpack. They were all large and cumbersome-looking, though when she tested their weight, tipping each up by an edge experimentally, she found two to be surprisingly light for their size. Knowing her orders well, she deduced the contents of the heaviest box without trouble.
It would be, likely amongst other things, the sand heater she'd agonised over.
Taking a quick look around the room - nipping to the stairs and back, perusing the study area and pausing for a quick sip of water - she came to a decision. There was a place for that heater on her coffee table. It would be perfect; low enough down for her beau to kneel or sit by during his wash, and high enough up to limit the risk of it being knocked over to an absolute minimum. She just had to get it there. Slipping her pocket knife from its spot on her desk (ousted as it had been from its usual place in her pocket for her trip to the hospital), she set about doing severe structural harm to the box's lid, intent on getting to the heater and whatever else had been packed in with it. It took her a minute to get through reinforced cardboard, tape, foamy packaging material and plain, sturdy wrapping paper, but she made it with little more than three paper cuts for her trouble. With that done, she was able to ease both parts of the heater - its study base and conical lid - from their confines, and transport them carefully down to their intended resting place on the table.
Two more trips between box and table saw the selection of sands she'd purchased, eight varieties set out neatly in an intricate stand that stood about a foot and a half high, delivered also, as well as the tools with which one would use the heater - a ladle, two brushes and a wide, shallow spoon. The fourth trip yielded a beautifully woven bathing mat that was rolled up and tied off with gauzy string, and the fifth a rough bag and a note from Kehksi that was written in neatly printed Basic.
'Thank you so much for your purchases, Commander' it read, 'and for your generous contribution to our little charity. Arashu bless your soul and keep you safe in troubled times. - Kehksi'
So taken with it was she that she read it through twice before tucking it into her pocket and beginning what would be trip six back to the box. She was bent almost double over the thing, intent on rescuing a few final items from its very bottom, when a voice rang over the general comm.
-/Commander/-
"EDI?" she answered, her voice muffled by cardboard and packing paper. "What is it now?" She had visions of follow-up questions; of being a guinea pig or sounding board for ideas the AI had had since their talk in the elevator. What she got though was nothing like those things.
-/I've just received a hail from the Orizaba. You're being sought on Admiral Shepard's private frequency./-
The Commander practically threw herself upright, worry burning in her gut. She and her mother took pains to limit their on duty contact to an absolute minimum. They both knew that even the most encrypted Alliance walls had ears pressed against them, and only ever deemed getting in touch worth the risk of being snooped upon when it was an utter necessity. Sharing worries about the Brass and the Crucible, in the strictest confidence and written in code, qualified...and so would a call for help.
The more important of those options got Shepard's attention first.
"Is it a distress call?" she demanded, ready to rescind the furlough she'd granted and haul out at the merest hint of an affirmative. Luckily for the crew and their precious downtime, EDI's response was a stalwart negatory.
-/No ma'm. Shall I establish a connection for you?/-
Settling slightly in the knowledge that a potentially God-awful call had not come, Shepard blew a slow breath through her lips and considered her situation. She was torn. On the one hand she had the opportunity for a real-time heads-together with her mother - something she'd wanted since she'd emailed her days back - yet on the other she still had greatly enjoyable work to do here, sorting out the gifts and sundries she'd acquired for her mate. It actually took thought for her to get moving, so intent was she on remaining where she was, on waiting for Thane and welcoming him in person, but she knew she couldn't pass up the chance she now had. He would be here later, she told herself, but Admiral Shepard damn well wouldn't be, especially if she was hailing from anywhere near the front line.
"I'll take it in the comms. room" she said, swiping a hand over her hair to clear away any lingering pieces of wrapping material. Once she was in the clear, she straightened her t-shirt up as best she could, grabbed Thane's glasses as a precaution against over enthusiastic light fittings and, after setting the room's ambient temperature to a Drellishly comfortable 27°C and leaving a quick Basic-written note on her desk -
'Had to take a call in the comms. room on Deck 2. Everything's fine. Will be back soon. Make yourself at home. This place is ours now. - A'
- made haste for the elevator.
"Double time it EDI" she said, slipping the glasses on as she tapped the [Floor 2] button.
It had never been wise, in her wide and colourful experience, to keep Shepard senior waiting for long.
And now!
Coming in the next chapter
The Shepards make a tentative plan.
And Thane finally makes it back to his quarters after his stop in the medical bay.