In the ensuing days after Garrus had stopped by and left, Shepard and Tali were left largely to their own devices - at least, as much as one could do so while recovering in a hospital. Sure, the nurses and other doctors had come and gone, and Shepard had received more "wonderful" lung treatments, but he did not send Tali away anymore. He reasoned that doing so before had merely been a fit of self-indulgence - a painful one, to be sure - but indulgent nevertheless. It was an indulgence he would not pursue again.

During that time, (in between watching an episodic series of Fleet and Flotilla, and two whole seasons of Blasto!, among other things) Shepard had indeed apologized once again to his saera for not only leaving her behind, but for also putting her through such misery. She had told him, in no uncertain terms, to "piss off". He had been both shocked and amused that she had not only used the phrase in the first place, but had also used it correctly. Each night he would hold her close to him, loving the feel of her snuggling body next to his (he would muse that it was the only time that he felt "complete", and he suspected that the feeling was mutual), reassuring her by the simple sound of his still-beating heart.

Tali had still not worked up the nerve to admit to him how she had felt while wandering the hospital halls. How she had hoped that his injuries would be - keelah, she was so ashamed of herself - extensive enough that he would have no choice but to end his military career. She would find herself oscillating between the wonderful feeling of completeness, usually followed by that feeling being hollowed out by her unwavering guilt.

It was so draining.

And Shepard…well he was, of course, hiding things of his own. He had managed to fool the nurses and doctors, those who didn't know him well enough to catch it. And all things being equal, he would have likely fooled anyone except for his Big Three - Garrus, Liara, and of course, Tali. No, they would have known - and Tali certainly did - that there was his own quiet little war raging inside of him. They would not - could not - have known who or what exactly he was fighting, but the signs of battle were there, plain as day.

They were visible in his vacant stare. They were there in his trembling hands. They were there when he would sometimes flinch at Tali's touch - an occurrence that had never been present before. They were there when he would unconsciously mutter hollow apologies in the dead of night to the ghosts within his haunted mind.

But physically, he was progressing. Sometimes too much.

The other treatment regimens were doing their thing - he was feeling noticeably better, and his body was regaining a bit of its old energy. It had even gotten to the point when he had nearly decided to say "fuck it" and attempt to walk around his room. Thankfully for him, Tali had come back just in time (with one foot on the floor and a pained expression on his face) to call him an "idiotic bosh'tet" and tell him that if he tried something like that again, she would be calling Miranda down here faster than he could say "I should go".

Speaking of Miranda, she had stopped by anyway, as she had had "much to discuss". And "discuss" they had done. Miranda had asked him what he remembered from the week that he had lost, the week that he had spent telling a virtual Illusive Man about how wonderful Tali was, and how she meant more to him than anything he could imagine. He had let slip an important detail, shedding light on what he had found on the Citadel. How the Illusive Man had become indoctrinated himself.

How the Illusive Man had controlled Shepard.

How he had murdered Anderson.

How he'd convinced the Illusive Man that, yes, in fact he was indoctrinated. And then watched him pull the trigger on himself.

"He could have led with that, the sick bastard," he had observed ruefully during this conversation.

Neither Miranda nor Tali could disagree.

Tali had held his hand the entire time, he had needed her to. There was no way he could have told them - with any honesty anyway - without Tali there beside him. She had held his hand and had gently rubbed his back, working the muscles in his neck. It was the only way that he could have continued.

She thought that he was her rock, but she had always been his.

Eventually, Miranda had gotten him around to what she had really wanted to know: what had it been like during that week with the VI.

It turned out that the whole experience was the result of a mandate sent down by the Illusive Man. "More experimental tech," Miranda had told them.

Anything that gave them an edge. Even if it meant installing an "in case you're gonna die" VI in Shepard.

It turned out that the Alliance had a vested interest in the technology now. Which makes sense, all things considered. Maybe it gets installed as a biotic-like implant into all new N7s? Miranda didn't have any answers in that regard. Not that anyone was surprised.

Then she had asked him what could be improved - guinea pig and all that.

"Well, I have two suggestions, Miranda. 'Don't use The Illusive Man as your fucking VI template' is right there at the top." The remark had elicited laughter from both Tali and Miranda, despite its thinly-veiled venom. It had been a room that had sorely needed some levity, in Shepard's estimation. "Seriously, though, I would go with something more neutral. Maybe not quite 'Avina' neutral, but you catch my drift."

Still laughing while shaking her head she affirmed his suggestion. "Totally understandable, Shepard. I'll make a note."

"And one more thing that I think is important. When the VI estimated my chances of surviving and 'pain tolerances'…well, let's just say that it was a bit…inaccurate." That got the attention of both of the others. Tali squeezed his hand as she thought that she could feel something from him, just through the way his fingers subtly danced and constricted on the back of her hand as she held his. It was a momentary thing, but it communicated much.

Miranda was all business again. "Shepard, please elaborate. This is very important."

"First, I thought that I would have had more time. The little 'status bar' which appeared in the vision of my…'mind's eye' seemed to drop very quickly. I mean, I only got through three little stories before the VI told me that I was essentially fucked. I was told that I would almost certainly die as soon as I regained consciousness." He sighed, as if releasing a sort of weight. "While awakening was no picnic, and fuck me, that shit hurt, it did a poor job of estimating survival chances."

Tali, who had turned away as he told them this part, brought those damn glowing, beautiful eyes to bear on Shepard once again. She was incredulous. "Shepard, did you ever stop and think that maybe it is you that beats the odds? Maybe, you bosh'tet, it wasn't wrong. Maybe it's because you do the impossible," she paused before adding quietly, "like come back to me."

Shepard was going to start physical therapy the next day - that had been Miranda's other big bit of news. After she had finished taking notes, she had told him that his "little vacation" was over. Tali was a little bit worried about this, but when she looked over at John to gauge his reaction?

Frankly, he looked thrilled. Shepard had looked eager. After what felt an eternity of days of doing very little (aside from the occasional rudimentary exercises), he was quite eager for something physical again. He hoped that the pain would make him feel more alive.

A nurse had come by later that day and removed the protective bandages and braces from Shepard's left shoulder and knee. They had replaced the brace around his ankle with a smaller version that allowed him more mobility while losing only very little stability. He had been assured that it would be enough stability when used in conjunction with the titanium cane - standard issue, he'd been told - that rested ominously in the corner by the door. Said door was now closed, as it was nearly 9 PM and the hospital was significantly quieter now. John was sitting up on the left side of the hospital bed, with Tali shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He was dressed in standard white cotton pajamas, but was missing a sock.

"I call." He placed his cards down on the tray that rested on their knees. It was (or so he thought) an impressive two pair - a set of tens and a set of queens - that he had confidently slapped down. He heard her laugh, and he knew.

He was fucked.

"I don't know, John. I'm so unfamiliar with this human game. Does this beat your cards?" She hesitantly - John would say "mockingly" - placed her three kings and two aces down onto the tray. "What was this called? A 'full'…keelah, what's the word, John?"

With absolutely zero mirth, he croaked his answer to the question.

"House…"

She clapped her hands animatedly. "Oooh! That's right! Silly me. How could I forget a 'house'?" She leaned in close to his ear with a throaty whisper, with her hand moving up his thigh. "Speaking of 'house', saera, once we get it built, I'm going to do some very naughty things to you. In every single room. And you know how I hate the quiet." She leaned back, crossing her arms as she watched the rush of blood hit his cheeks with her words. "So, does this mean I win?"

John looked at her, mouth agape and taken aback by her sudden…directness. His eyes, however, betrayed just how much her "promise" had enticed him. Maybe it was their time apart? Maybe it was her relief that he was okay mixed with her love and desire for him? He didn't know. Chances were that Tali didn't either. After a moment's hesitation, the blood managed to make its way back to the head atop his shoulders, and he laughed with her, shaking his head. "Yes, Tal. You win. What am I taking off next?"

She thought for a moment before pointing at his chest excitedly. "The shirt, my love. Please. I haven't seen you like this in what feels like forever. Not since…" She trailed off as the memory of their last night together on the Normandy flashed before her.

"Will you stay with me, Tali? Until the call comes, please?"

She did not hesitate. Of course she would.

What a stupid question.

She crossed to him in quick steps as she pressed her visor to his forehead.

"John, you don't even have to ask. I'll stay with you as long as you want, as long as you need."

He pulled her head down to his chest and kissed the top of her realk. "The answer to both of those is 'forever'. But you knew that already."

Tali nodded her head in small movements. "Yes…yes I did." She had uttered a hoarse whisper. "John, may I…ask something from you then?" He could feel her fingers against his back do their damnedest to intertwine. Of course she was nervous.

"Anything, Tali."

"Will you…'make love' to me…please? Just in case…in case this is…" She had used the human term, and she had meant it - one more time to feel him on her, around her, inside her. She was determined to express her unending and unbounding love for him through the experience, and to sear the memory of it into her brain.

He brought her helmet up to look directly into her eyes. For a moment, he thought about giving her reassuring platitudes about this final push to end the Reapers once and for all. There was no point, he realized. They both knew better. "Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, I love you, and you don't even have to ask." After a moment he added, "You don't ever have to ask." In the silence of the cabin, the only noise that could be heard was the soft hissss of decompression as he released her visor. After just a moment of their eyes locking, their lips met in a torrent of passion…

Afterward, they had simply laid together, naked under the sheets. Her head resting on his chest as he gently but deliberately ran his fingers through her hair. Occasionally he would stop long enough to kiss the top of her head.

"Tali…"

"John, I know. I love you too. With everything that I am." She turned her head towards his neck and kissed him there. "My soul is yours, and it always will be."

"- you all right, Tali?"

The sound of the concern in his voice is what jostled her from her reverie - how quickly that had come. Tali shook her head in quick, short motions in an attempt to shed the cobwebs from her mind.

"Yes, John. I'm OK," she said thickly, "just got reminded of something, that's all."

He regarded her with a blank expression, thinking that he had an idea of what that "something" might have been. He took her hands in his, wincing slightly at the pain in his left arm. "Hey, it's all right. Whatever it was, it was from a lifetime ago, OK? This," he squeezed her hands slightly for emphasis as he ran his thumbs along the back of them, "this is now. This is real. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you, ever again. You're kinda stuck with me, Tali." He stopped talking and just looked into her eyes, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth. "Still want me to take the shirt off?"

This is it. I have to tell him.

It was her turn to squeeze his hands, then she looked away from him. Shepard could feel the room grow just a bit colder as his pulse climbed. The adrenaline of being nervous, of having apprehension, was a foreign concept when it involved only the two of them. It was so unlike him, he spent a moment wondering from where it had come.

"Tali, is something -"

Without a sound she nodded her head. She sniffled. "John, I…have to t-tell you something." She faced the ceiling as she forced in a deep breath trying to calm herself. "Keelah, please don't hate me."

His heart was beating incredibly loudly in his ears as she finally mustered the ability to speak to him.

"John, while you were…in surgery…I had a lot of time to myself. Just me and my…thoughts." A mirthless laugh escaped her. "We both know how dangerous that is. And I spent a lot of time thinking about us, and our future together."

He at first watched Tali - the lack of eye contact, the slumping shoulders - and fully expected some doomsday pronouncement. Shepard looked down at the bed, at the space between them. His blood ran cold while his face remained incredibly hot. His mind raced in ways that it had never done before. It snowballed.

To a ridiculous degree.

Just what the hell is this about? Did I do something? She's going to…leave me? Is that what this is? But that doesn't make any sense. Did she realize that a quarian and a human simply can't work as a…couple? His mind had worked itself into a frenzy, and he had no idea why. In doing so, he had completely forgotten about the loving exchange that they had just had.

Being "naughty" and all that.

How am I supposed to…?

Fuck.

What am I supposed to do now?

He'd been unable to stop the flow of those thoughts, he didn't have any idea where they had even come from.

As far as he knew, this was the first time that there had been tension between them since he'd been found. Maybe his mind simply didn't know how to react to it?

Maybe coupled with his stress, his own demons, his already taut psyche decided that "rational" was not a thing to be?

Tali spoke again, snapping him from his thoughts. "John, I…when I thought of us, of all the wonderful times we would have, I couldn't help but think that…keelah, I couldn't help but think that you would always be in danger. That I would spend the days and nights that you wouldn't be there worrying - agonizing - that our luck would finally run out. That one day you wouldn't come back to me. And I hoped, for only a second, that you would…"

She began to cry in quiet fits, leaving John very confused. The only real indicator that she was even doing so were the subtle shakes in her shoulders, and the missing glow of her eyes.

He had to get clarification, because that hadn't sounded at all like what he had thought it was going to sound like.

Tali had removed her hands from his, and instead they were trembling in front of her chest, she didn't know what to do with them. Cross her arms? No. Clasp them together? Nope, still not quite right. Ball them into fi-

Instead, she felt them wrapped in warm, five-fingered hands. They were tugged gently to rest on his chest.

"Tali, what did you hope? Just tell me, please."

The lights of her eyes dimmed as she closed them. They remained that way as she spoke to him. "John, I hoped that you would have to…that there would be no choice…" Come on, Tali. Just tell him. "…but for you to retire. That, finally, this battle was the one that would force you to just…stop. I wanted you to…just…stay with me…but I was afraid that you wouldn't…that you would go back to fighting…"

Realization dawned on him. She had been afraid - so, terribly afraid - that he would return to the Alliance, or stay a Spectre, or probably both. She was afraid that she would lose him as she so often nearly had over the course of just these almost four short years. That their time together would always be hanging on a knife's edge. That he wouldn't give up his former life - that's what he considered it to be - just for her. And it sure as hell sounded like she had hoped that his injuries would have forced his hand.

And further? She thought that he would have hated her for it.

Did I pick up that irrational fear from her? In just her body language, her tone of voice? Is that why I thought…what I did?

So did I know that it was going to be bad, and my mind just went wild?

Maybe we're both just stressed the fuck out.

But I don't think I've ever done that before.

Really though - could he blame her?

In a word? No.

He pressed her hands overtop one another, still holding them to his chest. He was sure that she could feel his heartbeat. With one hand, he held them in place. With the other, he touched the side of her visor.

"Tali, do you remember our last night together, on the Normandy?"

He felt her tense up as her eyes widened. Was it something he said?

"Y-yes, John. I do."

"Do you remember when you asked me if I would 'do something' for you?"

She nodded her head.

"Do you remember my answer?"

Another nod.

"I said that I would do anything for you." He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed each of her fingers. "I meant that, Tali. It wasn't just for that moment, or that night. I would do anything for you, always. Do you understand?" He asked her, not in a condescending way, but in a way that showed that he was trying to just convince her. "That includes simply living my life with you. Tali, I was never going back to that life. I'd had enough - fuck, we'd done enough - saving the galaxy not once, not twice, but three times? I would've resigned and hid on Rannoch if that's what it would have taken, saera." He paused for a moment, lost in her eyes like always. "I just want you. Just us."

He wasn't mad at her. Hell, he wasn't even annoyed. He just understood her, and even without knowing it, they were of one mind on what mattered most to them: each other.

And once more, he heard the soft hisss of decompression, the playing cards long forgotten.