I felt like I had not showered in days. As I let the sting of the water pound away at the stress building up in between my shoulder blades, I wondered, if I lived, how long it would be before the cybernetics hard-lined into my neuromuscular system fully began to integrate themselves. I had understood why it was necessary. I could only imagine what my remains must have initially consisted of, my corpse reduced to nothing but so much ash and bone as Feron collected my bits and pieces for the machinations of the Shadow Broker, but after only several months as a newly functioning member of society my body still felt, and looked, like it had been used as a BAaT traning mech.

Running my fingers along mounds of raised skin, I examined myself tentatively; the bright pink scars erratically crisscrossing my pale flesh still serving as a constant reminder that not all of me was still standard issue, "Commander Shepard." And though some of them were much lighter now, the ones running jagged along the peaks of my cheekbones still made their presence known in the form of a pulsing dull ache I could sometimes feel way down in to the very back of my jawline. It was truly official. No matter how much I wished for it to be otherwise my nude form was definitely a diverse road map of imperfections. But, everything else considered, I supposed I did not look half bad for a dead woman.

Realizing I had already used more than my fair share of the hot water ration, I ended my short round of self evaluation to warily reach for a body towel. The heat emanating from its layers of loose synthetic weaves and padded energy coils eased my fatigued muscles as I fastened it tightly against my breast, my hair dripping down in cold streams along the crease of my back. I momentarily considered just stepping beneath the helm of the thermal drying capacitor, but in my current state of exhaustion I decided I would rather spend whatever time I may have left naked and wet than waste it standing another moment longer than I had to. My reflection, though partially clouded by the steam, seemed to silently agree with me. The dark circles under my eyes, and the worry lines etched deep along my forehead, made me look far older than my thirty-two years. I had consciously refused to tack on the additional two I had spent in a rehabilitative stasis even after I realized that no one else would ever do me the same courtesy. Still, if I could lose my crew and my ship without being consulted I felt like this was a small request in comparison. I only hoped that the crew of the Normandy SR-2 was not doomed to face a similar fate.

Wringing my hair in to the sink I moved stiffly into my private quarters, the unread messages on my computer terminal flashing in a passive-aggressive greeting as I debated how urgently I really needed to check them. There were always going to be requests for more aid, and distress signals so far along the outer rim that it would take me days just to discover their true source. With the IFF now firmly in place I could no longer spare the time or resources to try to arrange for any further assists. We only had a few hours to prepare for the inevitable. Just a few to come to peace with whatever might become of us all. And though I was not one generally prone to fatalism the reality of the situation was such that it did not grant me any false sense of hope. I knew I was going to loose good men to this. Some of them were comrades I had come to care for a great deal. And one of them-It was only through luck and serendipity that I had managed to relocate him at all. I did not think if the worse came to pass that Cerberus would pay to bring me back yet a second time. No, whatever happened beyond the veil of the Mass 4 relay it would be permanent. I only hoped that I could deal with whatever consequences that implied.

Withdrawing deeper in to my well of inner doubts, a tall silhouette, of an obvious turian make, suddenly caught in my peripheral. There was only one man that would come up to my private chambers without needing to be directly invited to do so, though "man" was perhaps not the typical use of the term. He was no more human than the towel I instinctively clutched a little more tightly against my body.

"Garrus-"

He approached me haltingly, the predatory lines of his broad form very evident against the fitted structure of his Cerberus uniform, his frame becoming all sharp planes and hard angles as he moved in to view of the ships default ambient lighting. The look he gave me was both familiar and hesitant, each emotion broadcasting loudly through small eyes that were always a constant clear and intense gray. But this time there was something else there, as well. Something deep and heavily guarded.

"It's ok, Garrus. Just talk to me..."

His maxilla, the paired appendages immediately just behind his squared mandibled jaw, began to flex randomly, his voice rich and guttural as he looked down at me. "I just need to know that this is the right thing...for both of us. If we do survive this little suicide mission of ours, I still want us to be able to face each other."

I allowed myself to close the small gap in-between us and raised my palm to touch his face. As the tips of my fingers moved to trail along the path of his own cybernetic scars, I paused at the feel of his skin, the scale plates there smooth and very warm to the touch. It was not all what I had been expecting.

"I would like us to be able to do much more than that." Due to our new proximity his hands found tentative rest along my hips, his talons sharp as they indented against the material there. "I may not know everything about your people, but I do know you. If we can out maneuver the geth we should be able to navigate this. We aren't the first to try. There's vids...guides... I found a heavily detailed position chart on the extranet that downloads straight to the omnitool. It has built in three dimensional demonstrations. We can figure this out. Just think of it as scouting new terrain for future recon missions. I am as unsure of how to go about this as you are but I look forward to doing the field research. "

"Good to know... "His chest rumbled deeply against mine as he spoke and I could suddenly tell the difference in the speech patterns between what he was saying and what the translator firmly placed within my inner ear was actually allowing for me to hear. "But there is more to it than that, Shepard." He hesitated slightly before closing his eyes. "This...whatever it is... I need to know that we are both after the same thing. After leaving CSEC...after Sardonis...I am not sure I can stay objective."

As I watched his mouth move I realized how close it was to mine. I also realized that he was asking me what my intentions were. Though we had hinted and danced awkwardly around each other for weeks, we had never actually admitted how either of us truly felt. Though it was obvious by his presence here that we had at least one goal in common, he and I deserved nothing if not the complete truth. I only hoped that that honesty wouldn't be the catalyst for a rift I couldn't fix. After all, by the time this was all said and done I had no way to be sure if this was just about having someone I trusted come inside of me so I could temporarily feel alive and connected to this constant mortal coil-I had Kelly Chambers to thank for that uplifting theory-or if what I felt for him was a genuine, deep, life -altering, long term affection. I cared for him. I wanted him. But what did he want from me? I suddenly wanted to hold my gun. It was always easier to think when I had a gun...

"All I know, Garrus, is that one or both of us could die, tomorrow. Whatever happens out there, this is it. This is our last chance to come to terms with it. I feel like I should be face down on the floor praying to any God that will have me. That I should be going over schematics and battle strategies while I sit here alone and face my own mortality head on. But now, right now, all I can think about is you. What you'd feel like...what you'd taste like. And I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I'd let the reapers take at least half of the galaxy if I knew it would buy me the time it would take to give you whatever it is you need from me. I don't have all the answers. I probably don't even have half of them. But I'm here and I'm willing to give you whatever time I have left..."

When his mouth met mine it caught me temporarily off-guard and my hands instinctually moved to cling to the large scutes running parallel along his back. As my tongue darted lightly against the sharp predatory cut of his teeth, I felt where the heat of him began to pool at each point where our bodies now met. I had known logically for some time that turians ran several degrees warmer than most of the existing citadel races, but I had never had the opportunity to experience it tactically. It made me want to spread out beneath him and press myself so tightly against him that a geth heat scan wouldn't be able to tell us apart.

As his palms traveled uncertainly up the contours of my waist, I unhooked the body towel and reached down to guide his hands, lifting them slowly to fully cup my breasts. As his talons flexed they scraped suddenly against the sensitive skin surrounding my tiny upturned nipples and my head jerked back with a sharp intake of breath. I swallowed hard, moisture beading along my inner thighs as he kissed the hallow at the base of my throat, his mouth traveling to mark my neck with a delicate press of teeth.

"Who the hell have you been talking to, Vakarian?"

I unzipped his uniform and forced it past his carapace, helping him to work it past his shoulders and on to the floor.

"I promised Joker I wouldn't tell you."

"That sexual deviant?" I ran my knuckles along the thick skin in between the plates on his chest and smiled. "This should be interesting."

"Right. Maybe we should just let you do all the driving. But promise me you'll be gentle. It's my first time."

And to that I said nothing. I was never one for making promises I knew I was incapable of keeping.