Garrus was aware of was the sun beating down on his face, the conspicuous absence of his visor. Then he slowly came to, slowly became aware of more. Sand in his mouth, the ache of throat that had become too dry. Pains in his body. His talons hurt; they burned in a way that jolted him through the fog of unconsciousness and back into the land of the living. The rush of wind came roaring through him. After being lost in that blackness where sound has no meaning, the howling was unbearable. He cracked his eyes open and almost immediately regretted it.

It was too bright, far too bright. He slammed his eyes shut, tears rolling down over his mandibles almost immediately. Garrus blinked, tried to force his eyes to stay open. The dazzling of the sun began to fade into something more tolerable. He groaned, confused. He didn't know what was going on. He tested his memory, and found large gaps of it missing. He knew his name, knew where he was from, knew general things about the universe. The Citadel, Council space, Terminus systems. What really scared the shit out of him was how very much was gone. He poked himself inwardly, and had no memory. What was the last thing? He struggled. The last thing…

The last thing was…taking his oath at C-Sec. So he was C-Sec? That felt wrong.

He curled his legs, rolling in the sand, and forced himself upright. Where was he? The sun and sand told him Palaven. The familiar scent of landscape baking at too high a wavelength. He was almost sure it was Palaven. He consulted his faulty memory banks and found nothing that could tell him why he'd be in the desert on Palaven. Garrus looked and found sand dunes as far as the eye could see. He lay nearby a scant military shelter. A pavilion with shimmery heat-reflective material stretched out. A table, a few chairs, instruments half-buried in the sand. He stumbled, reached down to pick up a busted datapad. Sand poured out of the crystal screen and he dropped it in disinterest as he turned.

A sound caught his attention, and turned him to face the setting sun. A black figure was stirring twenty feet or so from the camp- camp? Maybe outpost? His legs were still unsteady. The shimmer of metal called to him. A canteen!

He wrenched it open and drank gratefully. The water was hot, but it soothed him. He felt clearer-headed. Garrus recapped it and laid it on the table where he could find it again.

Another sound came from the black figure. Coughing. Another turian? The figure was too small to be turian. He scrambled over the dunes to where the figure was stretched out. It was a human.

Christ…the sun had really done a number on the human's skin. First glance told him it was female, and then another sensation overwhelmed him. The fierce, terrible urge to protect, to possess. He fell to his knees beside the little human female and threw himself to where his body created shade on her face. She was red, dried out. He watched as she tried to speak. Her lips were wind-chapped and cracked. Before he knew it, he was up and carrying the human to the shade created by the outpost's pavilion. There was precious little water in the canteen, but he put it to her lips. She drank.

When she'd had enough, she lapsed back into unconsciousness. He knew enough about humans to know that their bodies couldn't handle the radiation on Palaven. She'd burn and be burned on the inside unless she had some sort of protection. The armour that she wore would probably serve to protect everything except for her exposed hands and face.

He rummaged in the pouches on her armour; it looked military issue and if it was, there would be little items included for survival. He was rewarded with a tube that looked suspiciously like sunscreen. He couldn't read enough of the human language to be sure, but he did recognize enough words to make a bet. Garrus squeezed some of the cream out on his talons- noticed his knuckles were scrapped raw on both hands, and started to slather it into the human's skin. It turned her white. If she stayed in the shade, she should make it for a while yet. That done, he rested. The sun was nearly down, but the heat would be unbearable until night.

While he rested, he studied himself and he studied the human. It was baffling him, and confusing him, this total loss of memory. He didn't know much about amnesia. Didn't know if one simply awoke without memory and all seemed normal or if amnesiacs were aware of the chunks of lost time and were distressed because of it. He knew he was distressed. The human was tied to him somehow- surely she couldn't be 'tied'-tied to him. Humans and turians didn't mate unless they were deviants- But she had a tattoo on her face that matched his clan markings. And as he'd applied medigel to his scrapped knuckles, he found a silver band on the last talon of his left hand. Its match was on the third digit of the human's left hand. Her armour was blue and black as well…just like his, except the colours were inverted. It was weird as hell. Garrus knew that he knew this human, but he couldn't remember any blasted detail about her. Not even her name. When she awoke, and he knew that she must because the thought of her not waking filled him with panic, he would find out if she remembered anymore than he did.

Standard operating procedure for turian military in the desert was to bury the rations crates in the sand to protect it from enemies or elements. The crates ran on low battery power and kept the rations and water packs at optimum temperature for consumption. He could justify still moving about while the sun was up by hunting for the buried crates in the sand.

Garrus wasn't successful until well after the sun had set. He finally found the crate, buried not far from where the human had been laying. Dragging claws over the metal was probably the most delicious sensation he'd felt all day, besides that first sip of hot, metallic tasting water. He toasted himself with a water packet.

Nights on Palaven were by no means cool. They weren't scorching either. The human had still to waken, so he spent time tending to her burnt skin. He smoothed medigel onto her face and neck, into her hair where her scalp had been burnt, onto the crimson skin of her hands. The gel soothed, and he saw by the rise and fall of her chest that her breathing was becoming more even and restful. Maybe soon he would wake her up and pour some water down her throat. She had to be dehydrated. Garrus stretched out in the sand beside her. Waking to such hellish circumstances was tiring. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

One Week Earlier

"You know what I wish I'd had when I was growing up?"

She stretched out, flexing her back. Garrus watched with interest as her ribcage fluttered into view with that motion, and then disappeared again beneath her skin as she relaxed. He was becoming something of an arm-chair xenobiologist since he'd tied himself to her. The structure of Ezmay's body fascinated him. He liked the way she was fleshy and lean all at the time. He loved watching her muscles flex and her skin flush with colour with exertion or when he teased her. He especially liked the way her breasts jiggled when he drove into her, and the way that her soft little cave gripped him and pulsated with her pleasure. Ezmay stretched out again, turning to the side and back, and he reached out to trace a talon down over the bumps of her ribs. She collapsed in on herself, laughing.

"That's ticklish." She grinned and swatted him away. Another thing that he enjoyed…how her entire body was sensitive to touch. He felt cheated. He was only sensitive between the plates.

Garrus settled back on his elbows and grinned at her. "What did you wish you had?" He asked.

"A dog. Well…a horse too, but a dog would have been nice." The sheets rustled as she rubbed her feet against his spurs. "We couldn't usually have animals when my mother was serving. Sometimes the ships had cats, but that was naval tradition. But dogs are so fun. They bond with you."

Garrus had never seen a dog before. He was told they were hairy little beasts that liked to chew on things. Speaking of chewing…he focused on Ezmay's ear, and leaned close to nibble on her lobe.

"If it's bonding you want…"

Her laughter was rich. "You pervert. We just did it twenty minutes ago."

"So?"

"You gotta give me time to recover. I can't keep up with you."

"As long as you admit it." Garrus ceased the nibbling, and settled for pulling his human close to his body. She was so damn warm. It was hard to lay there next to her and not get fired up all over again.

They were silent for a very long time. It was easy to lose track of time when they had such a fantastic view overhead. Garrus could remember leaving Palaven for the very first time. Seeing the stars, and then looking out the other window and seeing the red-streaked surface of his homeworld had taken his breath away. He just knew from that first sight that he was meant to travel in space. It felt good in more ways than one; he'd had to restrain the urge to shed a tear at the beauty and the feeling of coming home. Laying here, with his mate, staring at the stars from their bed….well. He sighed with contentment.

From his side, Ezmay spoke. "Garrus, how is your father going to react to all this?"

Annnnd perfect moment shattered. His talons tightened on her hip reflexively.

"More than likely with a tantrum." He didn't want to think about it. "He's kind of old fashioned. I'm not exactly in his good graces right now."

"And I probably made it worse for you with the whole Collector thing." Garrus felt her cheeks sag against his chest.

"I'm a grown-up, Ezmay. If I was going to fall in line, I would have done it by now."

"I know. I just…" She sighed. "I don't want to be the only thing you have in the universe."

Garrus could have taken that any number of ways. But he chose to take it how she meant it. The separation from his family hurt, true, but he'd always clashed with his father's will. When he'd told her that he was a bad turian, he'd meant it. It was hard being an individual in a society where the wants of the many outweighed everything.

"You're not the only thing." He told her. "I have my sniper rifle."

She laughed again. It was a yielding, husky laugh. He liked it. He liked it better than Miranda's shrill, pompous giggle and Jack's psychotic cackling.

"You silly ass."

Garrus watched while Ezmay slid off the bed and padded naked across the room to the coffee table. He'd promised her a game of cards but planned on doing his damnedest to distract her. If there was one thing he'd learned from the Collectors and the Reapers, it was to savour all the time he could with her. Life was too incredibly short; his spiritual side didn't promise him an afterlife.

His talons folded behind his head. "What about your mother? Is she going to care?"

"No. She shouldn't." Ezmay leveled a glance at him as she shuffled the cards. She did it hand over hand and the movement made her breasts bounce a little. He tried to focus on her eyes.

"'She shouldn't?' She's not going to care that you're dragging home an alien?" His mandibles flared in mirth. "Xenophilia isn't deviant?"

She folded her legs beneath her as she sat. Three cards to him, three to her, and the pile in the middle.

"There's always something deviant in human culture. It used to be people with different skin colours. Then it was same sex couples. Or it was people of differing religions. Or it was people who were too fat or too skinny. Humans always have to find something to hate. It's a great fault of my species that we define what we believe in according to what we don't believe in." She flipped a card out. Garrus laid down a trump and took the trick. "Sometimes I envy turian culture; your hierarchy and social rules are so clear cut. Imagine what it's like to grow up having to find your own way and define your own values and knowing that somehow, you're always going to be pissing someone off."

"Sounds rough." He murmured. The Hierarchy wasn't as great as she made it sound. There were very real consequences for being an individual. "At least in your culture, it's not such a taboo to decide you'd rather be an artist when your parents want you to be a general."

"So both our cultures suck." This time she flipped out a heart. Garrus laid a spade on it, and took another trick.

Ezmay shook her head. "Is our marriage even recognized by the Hierarchy?"

No. He didn't want to tell her. Just as a marriage between a human and a turian wouldn't be widely recognized on Earth. "Not by the conservatives."

That tugged the corners of her mouth down.

"Does it matter?" He asked her, sliding a talon to trace the arch of her foot. "What we vowed was for us and us alone. It doesn't matter if Palaven and Earth don't recognize our binding if we still do."

The words seemed to still her. She smiled up at him and Garrus felt relieved. He hadn't finally been rewarded with something going right to have it drift away from him now. He'd said the words, and he meant them.

Palaven

The moon was high in the sky when he awoke again. The light was nearly as brilliant as the daytime sun was; it reflected off the sand dunes and lit up the outpost as well as a lamp would have. When he came to, he found himself curled around the human, with his arm thrown over her hip and his other arm acting as her pillow. He felt something uncomfortable beneath his armour as he shifted. Something sticking to his chest and poking with sharp corners. Garrus sat up, loosened his chestpiece, and felt within. He pulled the object out and found himself staring at the King of Spades. Confused, he blinked, turned the card over in his talons. What the hell was a card doing tucked beneath his armour…over his heart.

An idea bloomed in his head. All day he'd been finding matches of things on himself and the human. He wondered idly if she had a similar card, matching his, underneath her armour. Yeah, like he was going to go feeling under her armour. Shanxi turian he was not, but he didn't want her waking up and finding him groping her. He wasn't a pervert. But still…

Curiosity got the better of him. The pressure clasps on the human's armour were tighter than his own and he had to wrench them open. Her chestpiece loosened and hung away from her body. Tentatively, he reached between the hardened ceramic and her body. Through the under-armour bodysuit she wore, he could feel something smooth and inflexible pressed over her heart. Garrus took a deep breath.

Really, he shouldn't even need to look at it to confirm his suspicions. Just that the object was there, in the same place his card had been should have been enough. But he'd be lying if he said that….Well….

He shook his head at himself. Her skin was warm. A forgotten memory was stirring inside of him, and he felt like he was just on the verge of remembering. It was like the rush of recollection was just on the tip of his tongue. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he liked the feeling of having his hand down her bodysuit.

Perplexed at the wave of emotion, he snatched the card- don't linger, don't let your hand linger, godamn, she is so warm, she smells good oh wow- from her bodysuit. Trembling talons turned the card over.

The queen of spades.

Now this was just too damn many coincidences. There was something between this human and him and there were too many matches indicating it. The question was, was it a message from themselves or someone else? Suddenly, he wished she'd wake up. See if the human had any answers. Hell, he didn't even know her name. What if she died there, from dehydration and unseen injuries, and he never even found out what her name was? The thought filled him with madness. And familiarity. He'd felt this way before about someone, more than likely her, and it had sucked his soul dry.

Garrus couldn't stand to sit still anymore. He was suddenly pacing mindlessly in the sand. The king and queen of spades were clutched in his talons.

Six Days Earlier

The extension of the temporary bulkhead and tunnel and the tethering of ship to ship was still disconcerting for Garrus. He'd felt countless ships dock at various stations, and gods knew, he'd seen and felt ship-to-ship docking being done before, but it still always left him with a feeling of 'too close,' as if there was ramming and explosions about to happen. Jacob opened up the cargo bay door and there was a hiss of shared oxygen between the two ships. On the other side of the door was the smarmy bastard that was acting as he and Ezmay's handler. The guy looked even more sycophantic in person. Garrus still shook hands with him.

"I'm very glad to finally meet you." Vic said to him. "I've heard much about you and Commander Vakarian, of course. I knew that if anyone could pull this job off, it would be you two."

Ezmay's voice came belligerent and unimpressed from Garrus's left shoulder. "We stole a horse. Doesn't require a whole lot of faith."

"Don't underestimate the job." Vic gazed at the horse appreciatively as Miranda walked it around the cargo bay. "This is a very valuable animal. It has considerable sentimental value, as well as material."

"Yeah, my crewman already told me it's a racing horse."

"It's more than that." Vic smiled at Ezmay in a way that Garrus didn't like. "This horse has very good genes, yes, and won awards. But it also represents the fulfillment of a vendetta. Revenge. You two of all people should understand that."

Now Garrus decided that he really didn't like Vic. The oily act had been dropped on that later part of his reply and he'd revealed himself as cold, intelligent, frighteningly aware of his role. Just the type of person who should be working in the Shadow Broker's network. His first impression, and Ezmay's instincts, had been right all along.

Ezmay tilted her head and rewarded Vic with a dazzling smile. "You're preaching to the choir, my friend. Finally speaking a language I understand."

Vic's returning smile was no less sharp. "I thought as much. Now, after our friend is loaded on my ship, I would be more than happy to give you your next assignment. Did you have a chance to look over the contract the Shadow Broker sent over?"

They had, in fact. And Ezmay'd declared that it stunk to high heaven. She had put Miranda in charge of it.

"As a matter of fact, we did." Garrus said. "I have a few addendums."
"By all means. Perhaps we could look them over in your galley? Over some coffee? That is how civilized peoples do this, right?"

Garrus was glad when Ezmay took over. She had a much more defined sense of tact when it came to dealing with delicate situations like this. The Normandy's security crew was still standing guard, and Jack and Jacob had been left to oversee that there was no breech, nothing to worry about down here.

"I would be honoured to offer you hospitality." Ezmay was saying. "Our Mess Sergeant makes the finest lattes you'll get this side of Earth."

A latte, as he found out, was something that Ezmay and Vic could drink readily, and something that he had no taste for. The bitter liquid was loaded with sugar and was viscous enough to remind him of the cleaning solvents he'd used on the Mako. To hear some of the crew talk, Gardener's coffee tasted about the same. So he instead watched while Ezmay laid out the changes to the contract.

"First of all, we'll want to change this clause here. About specified period of service. It's still blank, you see." Her eyes flicked upwards to Vic. "I'm afraid we'll need to fill that in first. A typographical error, for sure." Her voice had gone as silky dangerous as Vic's.

The agent smiled to her. "Of course. The arrangement with the Broker was three more assignments if I remember correctly."

"Two." Ezmay filled that part in. "Also, the Broker intimated that he would make the problems with the Council go away. I'm curious as to what that will entail before Garrus and I agree to anything."

"Well, I'm afraid it's not within the ability of the Broker to get you your spectre status back at this time. Politics you see."

Ezmay smiled at him.

"But you will no longer have to fear being hauled in by a bounty hunter, or security. You will be able to dock where you like. We will make appropriate payments to the right parties, and you will no longer be a terrorist, as it were."

Ezmay pressed him. "How exactly will you go about that?"

"Other people owe the Broker favours too. Other people who the Council listen to." Vic nodded as if he'd explained everything.

"People aren't going to die, are they?"

"Why? Do you want them to?"

"No." She said quickly, and then she amended herself. "No point served."

"Just so." Vic grinned at her.

"There was no pay specified in the contract." Garrus said.

"Yes. Well, I was under the impression that the nature of our association together was going to be strictly quid pro quo. Did you want to enter into permanent employment?"

Ezmay's eyes strayed over to him and she searched Garrus's face for some kind of clue as to what she should say. Of course they needed to sink deeper into the network, but if they jumped at the chance too readily, Vic and the Broker might become suspicious. On the other hand, the door wasn't going to be open forever.

"You need not answer now." When they looked up at Vic, he was observing them with interest. "If you agreed quickly, I'd have to wonder at your grasp of the gravity of the situation. I'll take the amended contract to the Broker, and he will send back a proposal with changes."

Garrus could feel relief in Ezmay's stomach. She didn't like the dealing in artifice anymore than he did.

"Now your second job. It's fortunate that we're dealing with your legal troubles as we are, because you're going to Palaven."

His gut lurched in swift circles. He had no desire to go to Palaven. Once they landed, someone would go find his father. Once that someone found his father, old Evandus was going to come down to the spaceport on a mission. Garrus's eyes went to Ezmay unconsciously. They were going to call her a deviant and a whore. They were going heckle her every step of the way for corrupting a turian. It couldn't be Garrus's fault, no. It was the human woman. Sweet, singing tempters with their soft breasts and thighs and whispers of individuality. Turian females would make the experience almost as bad for Ezmay as the males. Evandus Vakarian would probably be right behind them. He could be a real dick when he wanted to.

"Once you're there, you're to meet with a turian and collect a piece of information for us. He only has the one copy, and the media is so old that it cannot be uploaded and downloaded." Vic looked bored suddenly. "I forget the specifics, but supposedly each copy erodes the quality of the original. He's only copied it once, saw the problem, and insists on trading the original copy to us. This information is very valuable to the Broker, and this is the lynchpin that will show us that we can trust you after all."

Vic's tone went from informative and helpful, to bored, to needle-sharp in the space of less than a minute. Of course, Garrus was already mulling this over. This information…was it the information he and Ezmay were seeking? Stealing it would put them on the Broker's shit list for decades to come.

Palaven

Garrus lay pressed into the sand, staring mutely at the sleeping human. Trying to deal with the tremendous weight that was crushing his heart. He mewled. Was prone. Wanted the rush to stop.

But he closed his eyes again, and it washed over him.

Neon, dirty, grime, blood, tears. He wasn't in the sand on Palaven anymore. He was on a narrow cot in a domicile that he and the others tried very hard to keep clean and new. There were the sounds of breathing, sleeping, all around him. But he couldn't sleep. Couldn't forget the hole in his heart. Couldn't move past the sense of loss. Her. It was all her. He shifted drunkenly in his bed, struggling to find a position that was comfortable, failing. His eyes went to the photograph he kept near his bed. His commander. His dead commander. He had nothing without her. All of this killing, this trapping, this taking down of the scum of the universe. It was his homage, his tribute, his slow suicide. Eventually he'd be killed. And he'd welcome the bullet in his brain.

Garrus opened his eyes and stared at the human again. It was her. She was the alpha and the omega of his existence. Her name was still a smudge on the annals of his personal history, but she was his commander and he was violently in love with her.

He cried out to the empty sand dunes. "I love you!"

The human still slept.

Blue eyes shut once more. Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. So amused. So happy to be joking with her again. Turians were probably horrendously ugly to humans, just as the fleshy creatures were bloated and repugnant to most turians. But not her. Never her. She was beautiful. She was beautiful in the way that she folded her arms and smiled at him. Beautiful in her relief, in the way that her face had relaxed when he'd walked into the briefing room and looked at her. Beautiful in the way that she laughed and ribbed him. He wanted to roar, to capture her, to make her a turian's mate in every true way. He wanted to bite at her shoulders, and scar her neck, and draw the blue paint over her face while he said the words that would seal her to him. His face was blown all to hell and he was scarred, but she was his and she just didn't know it. He didn't know when she'd shifted from commander to mate in his eyes, but there it was. Even if she never intimated that she wanted to consummate with him, she was his. And he would let her do whatever she wished so long as she was happy. He was content merely to kill at her side. He would be there when she needed him. Always.

He opened his eyes, blinking away hot tears, and staring at the human. Garrus couldn't have gotten to his feet right now if he wanted to. He felt himself going into shock and was powerless to stop it.

"I love you!" He howled once more.

Closed his eyes again. Didn't want the rush of memory but greedily waded through it all. He couldn't help it. He was so close to her, crushed against her, talons clenching on her shoulders, inside her. God, he didn't know if it was safe for her, but he was so close and couldn't hold himself back. He felt warmth on his claws and smelt the tang of blood in the air. Her blood smells like dessert. She smells spicy. She smells like musk. She was a banquet and he was starving. He wanted to do all things at once. Wanted to thrust into her, wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and feel the delicate silk of her skin caress his sensitive places, wanted to put her on her stomach and mount her from behind, wanted to bury his face between her legs and inhale the heady scent of that most secret place, wanted to spill, wanted to taste, wanted to lick, wanted to, wanted..

He was up and running across the sand before he knew it. Was shaking the human awake and spilling water from a ration pack over her face. She was coughing and sputtering, and murmuring in pain. Garrus would have called out her name if he'd known it. He dripped water into her mouth and she drank. He hoisted her to a sitting position against his armour and held the pack so that she could suck on the straw and get more water. The shock in his system was dying down. His hands were shaking and he could barely hold the water pack and his human steady, but he managed it somehow.

She came to just long enough to call him "turian" and then she fell asleep in his arms once more. He picked her up and retreated under the shade, holding her as if she was a teddy bear and he was a terrified child in the night. There was a spot on the back of her head that was swollen and sore to the touch. The human groaned in her sleep when he prodded it with his claws. Blood was crusted and matted in her hair. Shaking talons smoothed medigel over the swollen place, even though he knew if it was a head wound, she'd have to just heal on her own.

Still….just…now, he knew. He knew. Didn't remember everything, but this human was indeed his. He was going to get her off of Palaven. If it was the last thing he did.