Melding of Souls

"Even if you know the basic movements and possess the skills, your biotic power isn't strong enough," Samara chided the woman under her training, frowning lightly, "why do you still wish to learn, even if you cannot acquire it?"

Humans were puzzling creatures, she concluded, irrational despite their sound logic. For her part, Hannah snarled in frustration; maybe the asari would never understand. Why did she keep on trying, when the results would always remain the same? The only way to enhance the ability was through boosters connected at the nerves, but the humans had yet to develop such technology. Why would they? There weren't any biotics in their race — they didn't know about biotics.

"Hannah . . . ." The name and word implied more than a call of attention; it also expected an answer to the unasked but well known question. Why was she doing all of that?

"I managed to throw one of my captives off me," she finally conceded, "I was bound, but my body's muscles contracted and convulsed of their own accord just as my nerves were fried raw."

"From what I taught you, you deduced that, somehow, you used dark matter and threw the man away," and there was the logic behind the irrationality, "the likelihood of you somehow managing to reproduce the same conditions is quite unlikely."

"I know!" Exasperation; even after having lived with the human longer than with any other creature since she entered the order, Samara was still amused by the display of lack of self-control. "I need more than the recipe; I need the kitchen in the same state, the same ingredients, the same tools . . . ."

"Recipe for fried nerves," the asari tut-ted, an action she only did when in the present company, "I must admit, I do not fancy the dish."

Hannah laughed hearty, clearly the wanted result from her companion. The warrior approached the tired creature, already pushing herself to the limits since she began speaking. A little more than a day had gone by since her sudden appearance, and even though the justicar still searched for her stray daughter, her romantic pursuit was pursuing her, so she never did stop the search, just while she helped her friend recover.

"We have yet to discuss the matter off —" She was cut off, unable to finish by the wounded look in her friend's eyes and the raised caramel hand.

"No, not yet," she replied, looking off into the distance, and then closing her eyes in pain, "I'm not ready to face that yet . . . ."

"Very well," the asari replied softly and mutely, she then sighed, "I still must tell you, if I am forced to kill you . . ." she licked her now-dried lips, and swallowed, "I will."

"Good," the reply was surprising, "that was one of the reasons I decided to come. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I came to such decision, and I would rather die by your hands. I know, it's selfish, I'm sorry . . . ."

"Extremely selfish." As long as Hannah still lived by the code, even if it wasn't through obligation, Samara would stand by her. "Don't make me kill you . . . ."

The plea was earnest; she had no idea she was capable of such thing. She was now standing beside the young woman, arms wide open, face expressing worry and concern.

"I won't . . . ." The reply was equally earnest.

Hannah stopped her movements, and with a sigh, stepped into the comforting zone amid the cobalt limbs. By then, the recovering female was struggling to keep her eyes open. Samara took notice of this, and held the petite figure closer. With a soft and caring voice, she hushed the creature who began cuddling into her, taking her back inside for some rest.

"Samara?" The asari was meditating, taking her time to sort her emotions, thoughts, and body. "Samara?"

The voice had become urgent, and the warrior left her place without another thought. She found the source of distress, and the young human sighed in relief. The simple touch was enough to reassure the troubled woman; she ended more exhausted than when she first fell asleep. It might not do their recently growing relation any good, but still Samara took her path. She would sleep besides the soldier, and she would care for Hannah. She didn't expect to fall asleep besides the young woman, but that was what happened. It was the best sleep they both had had in a long time.

"Have you told your captain about your current . . . situation?" It was a delicate question, not the kind she expected her companion to take well. Her expectations were met.

"This isn't what I expected for pillow talk," the woman muttered in a low breath, then sighed, and shook her head, "no, I haven't told him about it, and no, I don't know what to do about it . . . ."

"I suspect the truth would be a good start." It was simple reasoning that led her to such deduction. "After all, it happened during your . . . what was that word again . . . abduction." Kidnap was the actual truth, but far from the right word.

Her companion sighed. "I know; it's best if he learns about it but . . . I just don't know what to do . . . ."

"Maybe I could . . . ." The solution was obvious, even logical, but what it required was vastly dependent on a number of factors. Samara shouldn't have even begun, but she was going to finish the sentence, at least for the corporal's peace of mind. "I told you about the asari, even the melding process . . . ."

The clues were enough, as they ought to be; had her companion not caught on, the disappointment would have left a bitter taste.

"I'm not sure I have what is needed to pull that off," at least she was open to the idea, "and I would need someone to map . . . ."

. . . a fact that had completely escaped the justicar. As things were now, she knew she wasn't allowed a family, and the one she had was what brought upon her inability for more. But then, to ask another asari for such selfish acts, even if her own reasons for offering herself as map would be just as selfish . . . . Her turmoil thoughts didn't register the other's pain until a soft hiss was issued, she then allowed her grip to loosen, and began apologizing; she wasn't given a chance.

"I'm sorry Samara," Hannah began in a low tone, which was shaken, frustrated, "I didn't mean to . . . I do not wish to implicate you, nor anyone else . . . let's forget —"

"Chose me," her own words were shocking to hear, but even more was the underlying pain and hope; the soldier took a sudden breath, unable to believe the words spoken, "I — I would do anything for you . . . ."

"Anything?" The tone now was light, and the jest wasn't lost.

"Unless it goes against the code," she finished solemnly, and she could feel the smile the human sported.

"Then please, allow me to meld with you," the request was honest, almost begging, but what made Samara's entire being tremble, was the love, "allow us to —"

The plea was lost in a moan. Since Hannah was a biotic and sensible to the works of others in that area, she could grasp what the blue alien explained in both, words and actions. Hannah drank it all in, the texture of the soft, leathery scales that had thrilled her during the first touch they had shared . . . the smells, of cinnamon and apple, mixed with incense . . . the sounds she made, the ones she made her companion make with delicate, feathery touches in one spot, and then the pressure made in others . . . the sensation of the biotic power mapping her . . . the faint sensation of trying to do the same . . . it was good that the biotic ability required was low, faint but needed, during the act of melding. Hannah was drowning in sensations, but once she began to perceive the amount of memories behind a feeble wall, she broke it as her nails did with the cerulean skin beneath, and the stream of reminiscence overwhelmed her. Her nervous system was overloaded, and it was like a flare.

Samara could feel it; she felt the raw amount of what she could give, how her companion tried to take it all in. It was biting off more than what could be chewed, so she decided to provide helpful memories of her first melding, her first daughter, her second, her third, and the raw pain of finding they were Ardat-Yakshi. Suddenly, the act ended as soon as it had started. Hannah was cringing on one side of the bed, tear stricken, and Samara felt terrible. Swallowing her words and regret, she turned to leave, but a soft, fragile hand caught hers, and then the naked body of a human she had learned to care for was pressed against her. They both wanted to apologize, and they both knew the other didn't want to hear it, so they just embraced each other. The only sound heard were the minute sobs that came from the apparently broken young woman. The justicar could only hold her tighter, as if trying to keep her pieces together.

"Thank you, for sharing your pain," I'm sorry for overreacting. Since when did the biotics' ability extended to mind reading?

"Thank you for staying," I'm sorry, for putting you through this . . . .

"I wouldn't allow you to leave, either," Hannah whispered, "I couldn't . . . ."

This time, when Samara opened her mouth to speak, she was the one to be embraced. Hannah took her into such a deep kiss, that everything was forget, if only briefly. But once she remembered, her companion moaned so deeply that she decided she didn't care.