His house was nice, an old-fashioned ranch-style home with a second story. The outside had a stone-façade, and the roof was slate-gray in color, to match the stones. There were large windows to let in lots of light.

Kaidan entered the house through the traditional door and held it open for her with one hand. She stalked slowly past him, crossing the threshold with trepidation. He turned on a lamp by the door and watched her as she walked around his living room slowly, taking in the bookshelf full of real books, paper and leather and ink. Her hand glided across the baby grand piano tucked into the corner, fingertips ghosting over the ivory keys. He placed the duffel bag in his hand into a nearby armchair and pulled off his leather jacket.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

He looked up at her, and realized that she had somehow gotten very close to him without his noticing. That could be problematic. She was staring at him again, her green eyes luminous.

"F-for what?" He couldn't keep the stammer from his voice.

She reached out and he balked, but her fingertips touched the wound in his ribs, the shallow trench dug by the bullet that ran horizontally across his side. The blood on his shirt had dried now, but the wound was still tender. He inhaled sharply. He'd forgotten all about that.

"My finger slipped."

"You mean you didn't mean to –?"

She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "No, Vega played it off like it was intentional, but I don't like guns. My finger slipped." She shoved her hands into her pockets and turned away from him, to stalk to the large vid-screen opposite a black leather couch. He stared after her, his opposite hand coming under his ribs to rub the sensitive spot of flesh.

"Vega. Was that the one who I –?"

She cut across him sharply, without looking his way. "Yes. Thank you for… letting me save him."

Minutes of silence dragged on, and now she was looking at the framed pictures of his family on the wall shelves. Her fingers traced his mother's face, lingering. Aside from her brother, she hadn't mentioned any other family. Maybe they were all dead? She picked up a picture frame gingerly – it was made from real glass and her hands were shaking. From withdrawal or something else, he wasn't sure.

Kaidan came up behind her, and saw that she was holding the frame that held a picture of his father. It was an old photo, from before the First Contact War. Kaidan's father was younger, and he looked just like Kaidan himself. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked from the picture to Kaidan's face.

"That's my dad," offered Kaidan, reaching around her to take the frame from her hands. "Military man. Still serves in the Alliance. Everyone says I look just like him." He smiled, but it was tight, and faded too quickly, replaced by a slight grimace as he placed the frame back on the shelf.

She was scratching again.

Kaidan cleared his throat and looked down at her. "So. Um. Food first, or shower first?" His hands came around her wrists, stilling her incessant scratching. Her fingers twitched. She was very close to him again. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"…Shower might be nice."

He pulled away with a nod, as casually as he could, but was relieved to be away from her. She followed, as lithe and fluid as ever, but there was a distinct twitchiness to her movements now. She hadn't said as much, but he knew she must be desperate for red sand. He showed her the guest bathroom and fetched towels and rags for her from the linen closet beside the bathroom door. She watched, silent, absorbing the information.

She stood in the door of his guest bathroom, towels pressed against her breast, and the surreality of the whole situation suddenly struck him. Ashley was dead, and her murderer was being treated like a guest in his home. He frowned, so abruptly his eyebrow twitched. He muttered something to the effect of 'make it quick' and turned away from her.

"Clothes?" she called after him, and he halted.

"Shit, right." He turned quickly on his heel and stalked to the other end of the hallway, wrenched open his bedroom door with more force than necessary, and opened his dresser. A burning blush was creeping up the back of his neck now. He didn't want to think about her in his shower, wearing his clothes, sleeping on his guest bed. But the images came to him anyway, and he took a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning against the dresser.

When the moment passed, he snatched up a t-shirt, a pair of briefs and some loose fitting shorts. He had nothing for the top half of her underwear, of course, but he didn't dwell on it. When he returned to the bathroom, she had already entered. He could hear the water running through the door. He hesitated for a minute, his hand on the doorknob. Come on, man, you're a Council Spectre. She's just a red sand addict. You can do this.

He opened the door.

He thought his head might explode. The blush on the back of his neck was blossoming in full force across his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. She was standing there, her back to the door, completely nude. The steam from the shower had already began to fog the mirror, and she turned to look at him, entirely unashamed of her nakedness. He glimpsed an intricate tattoo of curves and whorls across her lower back before she turned. And now he could see other things. He quickly averted his gaze from her, holding out the bundle of clothes.

She took them from his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing against his. He didn't like the feeling of electricity as their skin touched. He didn't like how comfortable she was being totally naked in front of a complete stranger. He swallowed hard and practically ran from the room. She shut the door behind him with a click.

He stood in the hallway, hands fisted in his pockets. Damn it damn it damn it. This was going to be a huge mistake, he could already tell. Five minutes in and he had already seen her naked. And now the image was burnt into his mind. He'd only caught a glimpse, but he could recall with clarity the curve of her hip that melded into her thighs, the subtle swell of her breasts that flowed into her muscled torso. His blush deepened to crimson and he stalked from the hallway and into the kitchen.

He threw himself into cooking something, although it was just busy work and his mind was free to wander and he didn't like where it wandered to. He burned their food more than once in his distraction. Muttering to himself, he didn't notice when the shower turned off. He was miles away when she slunk to the door of the kitchen.

He started at the quiet sound that came from behind him. She stood there, hair damp and clinging to her face, wearing his blue t-shirt and the briefs he had given her. His shorts were hanging from her hand at her side. She leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, and food was suddenly forgotten. He couldn't help it. His gaze moved over her, lingering appreciatively on her exposed thighs and calves. The red welts across her forearms and backs of her hands had receded somewhat, and they had stopped bleeding, but they were still raw.

"You're burning the garlic," she said quietly, watching him watching her.

"Shit." He turned back to the stove and turned off the burners. Their food was almost finished. He'd prepared some steaks and vegetables and some mashed potatoes. The instant powdered crap, but he had hoped to liven it up a little with some garlic. Looked like that might not happen. He swore under his breath and moved a fork through the garlic to inspect it. They appeared salvageable.

She sidled up behind him and peered over his shoulder at the food he was making. As if they were old friends or lovers, she rested her chin on his shoulder, her hands moved over his hips slowly, wrapping themselves around his stomach. He wasn't sure if she was just really comfortable with anyone and everyone, or if she was deliberately playing him. His hands fumbled as he stirred the slightly overcooked garlic into the mashed potatoes.

"Where are the cups?" she said quietly, flustering him further by how close to his ear her voice was. He gestured wordlessly to a cabinet. She slipped away from him and he unexpectedly missed her warmth. No, stop it. She killed Ashley, you dipshit. This thought seemed to ground him, and he felt a little less jumpy now. She had retrieved a cup and was filling it at the sink now, but he didn't miss the subtle shaking of her fingers as she downed the entire glass in one go and refilled it.

"Is it bad?" he asked quietly, and she lowered the glass to look down at her feet. They both know what he was referring to.

"It's nothing I can't handle."

This answer was incredibly unsatisfying. He grimaced and retrieved some plates for them. "There are ways to –"

She cut across him again fiercely. "No." There was no other explanation. Kaidan didn't press it. If she felt she could handle the issue, then who was he to question her strength? He fished out some silverware and began placing food on plates. He handed her a plate, and she took it gratefully. She began to tuck in right there, voraciously shoveling veggies and spoonfuls of potatoes into her mouth with gusto.

"I have a table, if you prefer to sit." He couldn't keep a teasing note out of his voice and she looked up, licking some mashed potatoes from her upper lip.

"Sorry. Not really used to grub this good," she offered apologetically. The compliment made his stomach jump pleasantly. He retrieved a beer from the fridge, popped it open on the edge of the counter and strode past her to the dining room. She followed, still eating as she settled into a chair opposite him.

"So. Tell me about your brother."

Her demeanor shifted instantly, and her eyes became distant and withdrawn. He realized he might have made a mistake in asking. She picked at the food on her plate with a fork, suddenly disinterested.

"I'd rather not."

Another uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Kaidan grit his teeth and took a swig from his beer. When she didn't speak or offer any sort of explanation, he started to eat, just to keep his hands busy.

"Did they arrest Vega?"

He looked up. Oh right, he hadn't told her. He swallowed his mouthful of food and took another sip of beer. "Actually, no. When the other officers arrived, he was gone and no one can find him. They're running his blood through the system, though."

She nodded. He suddenly realized she must have expected this. The news didn't seem to surprise her at all. She had begun to scratch again. He frowned and got up, startling her from her thoughts. He disappeared down the hallway for a moment and returned with a medical kit. He set it on the floor and turned her chair towards him, away from the table. He knelt down and opened the kit, retrieved two tubes of medi-gel and some bandages, then closed the kit with a click.

He looked up at her and held out a hand. She stared at it, confused. He reached out and grasped her hand gently in his, and pulled her arm out towards him. He opened the first tube of medi-gel with his free hand and squirted the gel onto her forearm. She winced as it came in contact with her raw skin, but the hiss of pain devolved into a sigh of relief as he spread it across her gashes with his fingers.

She was watching him, he knew, and he felt the hot blush creep up his neck again. "I was a medic before I became a Spectre. Taking care of people is, uh… it's sort of my thing." He had begun to wrap bandages around her forearms now, to protect the less powerful medi-gel, and to prevent further scratching. He secured the bandage in place with some tape and turned his attention to her other arm. He repeated the same process on her other forearm, and when he was finished, he stood and picked up the empty tubes and medical kit. He turned, but her voice stopped him.

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem."

"No, I mean." She struggled for a moment, looking uncertain and uncomfortable. "For… for letting me save Vega. For helping me."

There was another silence between them. Kaidan wasn't sure what had prompted him to take this addict, this murderer, into his home and care for her like a stray cat. Perhaps it was simply his Spectre status urging him to do right, or maybe his medic training that made him want to take care of her. Maybe it was just desperation for companionship, as pathetic as that sounded. Or maybe he just liked helping people.

"Don't worry about it."

He left the room. He was still hungry, but his stomach was jumpy for some reason, and he couldn't even fathom eating right now. He found himself in his bedroom, standing at the foot of his bed. He shed his bloodied and ripped t-shirt, and glanced at the wound in the mirror he had hanging from his closet door. It didn't look too bad. He hastily applied some medi-gel on it and turned towards his private bathroom. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her standing there in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Shit!" He didn't like how easily she could startle him. She was too damn quiet. He'd have to take a page from Ashley's book and start sleeping with a pistol under his pillow. "D-do you need something?"

She was eyeing him, that same strange predatory look in her eyes as her gaze swept over his muscled torso. Underneath his embarrassment, he felt a tiny thrill of pride when she bit her bottom lip.

"I'm sort of tired," she said, after a long minute of silently regarding him with that appreciative look in her eyes. "Where can I crash?"

He gestured down the hallway, suddenly self-conscious. "Door across from the bathroom."

"Show me?"

He hesitated for only a moment, before walking past her to show her the door he meant. She followed, and when he opened the door, she slipped inside and sat herself upon the bed. It was a simple room, with a bed and a night stand and a dresser that was empty. There was a painting of the Presidium on the wall behind the bed, and a mirror above the dresser. She leaned back on her elbows and regarded him. His throat was suddenly very dry. He cleared it with a cough and began to back out of the room.

"Yell if you need me."

"Oh, I will."

She seemed to enjoy watching him blush. He took a step back, and in his haste to get away from her and her silky voice and the utter confusion of the whole situation, he bumped into the nightstand and tripped backwards out of the room. He landed with a thud on his backside, just outside the open bedroom door. From where he was sitting, he could see her fall over onto the bed in a fit of helpless, snorting giggles, and he scrambled to his feet.

"Shit! Sorry! I-I should go."

And he quickly walked back to his bedroom, blushing furiously. Her laughter carried down the hallway after him.

He spent the afternoon actively avoiding her. He organized his books, did some paperwork for Nora's case, conveniently leaving off the part about how he was harboring a known criminal now. He did some research into this "Harbinger", of course finding nothing. He also couldn't find anything on a Nathan Shepard. He took an extra-long, extra-cold shower, but that somehow didn't stop the fantasies. Under the icy stream of water, he leaned one palm against the wall and closed his eyes.

This had all gotten so confusing so fast. And now the image of her, wearing his briefs, his t-shirt, came to him, unbidden. He pressed his forehead against the wall of his shower. He palmed his aching hardness slowly, allowing the vision to fill his senses. He could feel her smooth skin under his, could almost imagine her moans and soft sighs.

A quiet groan escaped him as he stroked himself, hand moving a little faster. And now the imaginary Nora was pulling off the shirt he'd given her, leaving her only in the borrowed briefs. She was murmuring in his ear, her lips were on his neck, her hands were sliding across his chest.

Another groan and his hips twitched against his hand. He stroked faster, biting his lower lip. The fantasy continued – Nora was crawling up the length of his body, her mouth hot and wet upon his thighs, moving upwards to take him whole without hesitation. And she was moving, her tongue laving over his shaft. It wasn't his hand now, but her mouth, and he tilted his head back a little.

And when she moved further upward and settled herself astride his hips, his hands firmly groped her backside, and then he was inside her and it was fantastic…

He inhaled sharply as he came, his seed spilling from him, instantly washed away by the cold water.

He finished the rest of his shower quickly, suddenly embarrassed by his fantasies. He toweled off and dressed quickly. He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. "You're getting in too deep, buddy." He spoke quietly to himself, leaning on the sink. "She killed Ashley. She's probably killed others, too. Just gotta keep your head on straight."

He didn't sound entirely convinced. He made his way to his bed, utterly exhausted, and collapsed onto the mattress. He didn't have a conscious thought as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke suddenly, in the pitch black. Someone was touching him. In a blind panic, he flailed, his hand coming into contact with what had touched him. His fingers found soft flesh. The panic in his chest abated a fraction. At least it was not an intruder.

"…Nora? What –"

She silenced him with her mouth, her lips sweet and soft and almost unbearably hot against his. He roughly pushed her away, spluttering. Her hands were on his chest, her legs rubbing against his, her face close to his in the darkness.

"What are you doing?"

"I need it," she pleaded, her voice was in his ear, silky smooth and rough with desire and dear God, it was erotic. Kaidan shivered as her hands moved over his naked chest, her blunted nails digging at his skin. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away, extricating himself from her with difficulty. He rolled away and stood up. He could barely make out her silhouette in the darkness of his bedroom, the artificial moonlight peeking through the blinds covering the windows. Bars of silvery light rippled across her as she sat on his bed, trembling, shivering, writhing.

"Get out."

"Please." She rocked forward, crawling to the edge of the bed on all fours. "Please. I need it. I'll make you feel good," she purred, and she was standing now, advancing on him, pressing him against the wall and kissing his neck with those soft, hot lips. He grit his teeth and pushed her away once more.

"Out!"

She shrank back from the sharpness of his voice and scurried from the room without a backward glance. Kaidan was on her heels, herding her from his bedroom. He shut the door behind her with a snap and turned to lean his back against it heavily.

Time for another cold shower.