Chapter Seven:

The way he looked at her was terrifying. He didn't look at her like a doll, something fragile to be coddled, but he also didn't look at her like a soldier. No. In the end, he terrified her because he looked at her like she was a person. Shepard had thought, with some measure of fear, that once he saw her arms he would recoil. The only species who hadn't pulled away when they saw the white lines crisscrossing her body had been the krogan.

But not this turian. Vakarian looked at her like she was a person, and that was somehow more threatening than a charging krogan biotic.

Shepard promised herself that she wouldn't make any rash decisions when she went to bed that night. She told herself she would approach her failings in a healthy manner – talk to him, figure out why he looked at her like that (why she deserved that expression because she certainly didn't think she deserved that foreign kindness that gleamed in his eyes, because she wasn't worth that) and maybe even get him to open up.

Except, none of that happened. All her plans went out the window the moment she saw a tray of food waiting, a peace offering that only served to fan the panic in her chest.

"I'm getting off at Illium."

Vakarian looked up at her, blinking. She thought she saw his mandibles flicker in some expression of turian emotion that she just didn't understand, but she couldn't tell if it was a trick of the eye or if it had actually happened. She swallowed down the bitter taste that clogged her throat. There was no reason for her to feel guilty for this. How dare she feel guilt for doing what was best?

(Best for her or best for him?)

"Decided to take my chances with the asari," she continued, unable to take the sudden silence because if she dare let this fester then that stupid fucking guilt was just going to work its way up her throat and out of her mouth and into the air, and she couldn't take that back once it was out there. "I hear Nos Astra is nice."

He looked at her and dammit, he wasn't allowed to make her feel like this. Like she mattered. How dare he look at her so tenderly?

"It's just as bad as dangerous as Omega," he commented, as casual as ever. As if he didn't know what he did to her. How could he not know? He continued, unaware of her internal struggle. "I figure you can take care of yourself. Also I'm pretty sure any warnings I did offer would go – what's the saying? In one ear and out the other?"

She laughed, despite her best interests. "Yeah, you're not wrong. I've never been very good at taking advice."

There was a long stretch of silence as he considered her, sharp eyes slowly taking her apart piece by piece. He knew too much, saw too much, and she couldn't risk associating with someone like that. Vakarian was the kind of guy who could tear down your defenses with a flick of his mandibles. Just a look pushed her to the edge of confession.

These were her crosses to bear – hers and hers alone. She wasn't ready to place the burden of knowledge on anyone else. He had his own weight on his shoulders, he didn't need to take on hers as well.

And in the end, what was the most terrifying possibility of all was that he would gladly take her pains and place them on his own shoulders. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he seemed to subconsciously lean into her.

How did it comes to this? How did they reach this point, where she knew that all he had to do was ask and she would stay by his side? If he asked her to change her mind, to take her seat and join him in Omega, she would do it. In a heartbeat. A word was all it took and she would lay down her duffle and lean into him willingly.

But he didn't. He asked for nothing, and damn it all that only made her want to linger more. How could she let him weasel his way past her defenses? What sick sort of survival instinct allowed things like that to happen? She didn't know him, he didn't know her, she didn't even know his name, but here he was ripping through her defenses like they were paper thin.

Outside she could see the approaching city. Nos Astra: the land of perpetual twilight, where money could buy everything, even people. Especially people. The speaker fizzled overhead.

"Welcome to Nos Astra. The local time is…"

"Well, that's my stop," Shepard straightened, adjusting her duffle with a grin that didn't feel right. "Nice traveling with you, Vakarian. You certainly made this trip entertaining."

"That's what I'm here for," he wryly responded. "Don't sign any contracts. If I find out you've wound up in indentured servitude I'll have to find you just to say I told you so."

"What, no daring rescue attempts?" She asked, cocking her hip.

"I figure by the time I got there you would have taken care of that," he shrugged.

She laughed, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair. Fuck, she had to go now, because the longer she lingered the more she wanted to sit and oh so casually forget when the ship was leaving. Oh, damn, looks like I missed final call, guess I'm joining you in Omega after all.

"Later, Vakarian," she said – it was all she offered before she turned on the spot, stepping away from the bench that had been some sort of home for the past week. She ignored the lead that seemed to drag her feet, forced herself through the metal halls and out on to the glistening streets of Nos Astra. God, it was so like New York it almost made her skin crawl. The only difference was the humans were replaced by asari, and neon seemed to be the lighting of choice.

"Welcome to Nos Astra," the concierge greeted with a smile, well practiced and perfect on her pale blue face. "Would you like to call a cab?"

Shepard shook her head, forcing her feet forward. "No, no. I think I'll walk."

…

Shepard tried really hard to keep her mental promise. She booked a hotel, way more expensive than she really could afford. She grabbed a meal, sat down and enjoyed freshly cooked food while she watched asari and volus barter and bribe like it was going out of style. She was finally thinking that she could do this, that staying in this empty city was the right thing to do.

And then she saw a turian, and though his markings were all wrong he had the same colour armor and the same steely grey plates and she remembered she was still wearing his spare shirt.

She hesitated for a moment, fingers twisting in the sleeves as she slid her fingers over the thick material. Surely he had more than just this shirt, if he didn't that was just lunacy, but what if it was his favorite shirt? Did turians value clothes like humans did? What if he needed this shirt?

In an instant she was on her feet, tossing a few credits on the table to pay for her meal as she sprinted off. Against all rhyme and reason, she ran back towards the docks and prayed that she still had time to get back on. She prayed she wasn't too late, that the docking bay hadn't closed itself off and ended any chance of her seeing Vakarian ever again.

Christ, this was such a bad idea, she should stay in Illium and learn to live amongst the accountants and the bureaucrats. She could learn to live like this.

But sitting there, staring at that lone turian, she realized she didn't want to. Omega was dark and dangerous and everything she knew she could deal with. It was the better choice, the smarter choice, and if Omega just happened to come with a certain blue turian, well, who was she to complain?

"Final boarding call for flight 12567 to Omega."

Shepard cussed, hear thrumming in her chest and beating against her rib cage like a jackhammer. Her job turned into an all out run, weaving between confused tourists and chastising attendants. She made it to the boarding area with moments to spare, shoving her ticket in the flight attendants hands and coughing out a brief explanation.

"Welcome back, Ms. Shepard." the attendant greeted with an empty smile as she handed the pass back.

"Thanks." She offered the attendant a mocking salute and a quirk of her lips as she scurried back on board.

She was barely five steps in before they announced the ships departure and the door closed at her back.

Well. No going back now.

She exhaled sharply as her feet crossed the threshold and lead her back to the observation deck, back into the metal world that had served as her home for the past week. Back into the world that had blue eyes that saw too much and offered just enough. Eyes without expectation, eyes without judgment.

Eyes that looked up at her, tinged with shock as his mandibles flapped uselessly. She opened her mouth to explain, to just let everything fall from her lips and into the air.

You've gotten under my skin, and I don't understand why, and even though I barely know you I feel as if I've always known you. I feel like you understand what I'm saying even when I don't even know what's going on. I can't stop thinking about you and we just met and this is crazy and you're not even human but you are the only person I've ever met that's made me want to confess. You're the only person who looks at me like I'm a person. You're the only one who stayed after they found out I was broken. And I know I don't deserve you, but God I want you, and is it too much for me to ask if you will let me stay with you?

"I, ah. I still had your shirt," she said instead, pulling on the material. She probably should have taken it off, if she meant to give it back, but she still hadn't washed her hoodie and, well. There was just no easy way for her to explain away the fact that she'd refused to take off his shirt even though it didn't even fit well.

"The ships leaving," he said lamely, refusing to look away from her. As if he thought she would disappear.

"So it is," she agreed, running her fingers through her hair and forcing a deliberately casual tone. "Guess you're stuck with me for a few more days, then." She nudged his calf with her foot. "Mind scooting? I hear this is the best bench in the house."

His mandibles flared in what she now knew with relative certainty was a grin, and he slid over into what had been her spot. Except now it was his spot. She didn't mind (and she very pointedly refused to consider why that didn't bother her, because if she did then she would just launch herself into another panic attack and throw herself from the ship).

She slid into the empty space, resting her duffle beside his and relaxing back into her bench, like a foot slipping into a well-worn boot. He shifted to accommodate her presence, resting his arm along the back of the seat, and even though he wasn't human and she doubted he recognized it as the invitation it was, her body easily relaxed into his side.

He didn't pull away.

...

A/N: Hey. I've still got some pretty major writers block, and it's finals week on top of that, so, I'm not certain when I'll get back to a regular update cycle. I've also come across some minor bumps in the road regarding what I want to happen in the upcoming chapters, and I don't want to post anything I'm going to regret. Give me some time to get my headspace back in order and then we should be back to regular updates.

Thanks for everyone who's stuck through the sudden silence. Lots of love.

B.E. Nomads