Things Worth Keeping

A Mass Effect 2+ Story in Seven-Odd Parts by Urdaniel

Disclaimer: Bioware/EA owns all applicable characters and trademarks (e.g., names). I make no claims of ownership and certainly make no profit.

Rated M for language and the occasional smidgen of innuendo. Critiques and comments are welcome; flames will be allowed to fizzle out and trolls will want to find another spot unless they want to go hungry.

Quick note before you begin: I've taken dramatic license with the precise details of Ahern's scenario, so it won't be exactly as folks remember from ME. Given that license, please don't try to quibble with the time indices - when all is said and done, they move at the speed of plot, even though I tried to keep them somewhat close to reality. Once more, I'd like to thank everyone who's taken the time to read and/or comment and direct anyone who's interested to the author notes at the end of this installment. And as always, a heartfelt shout-out to the folks on the BSN Jack forums for sharing their insight and being an inspiration.

[2012.04.20]

Day 6: Pinnacle Freefall (Part 2 of 2)

Things went wrong from the start. There were eight turians in the guard squad, not six, and they were clumped in two groups of four on either side of the Grizzly instead of strung out along the perimeter. Gabriel and Jack were forced to change the plan. Instead of splitting up, they stuck together and hit the nearer group first, taking out the four turians literally an instant before the remainder rounded the Grizzly and opened fire. In the end he and Jack suffered little more than barrier damage, but the short, brutal encounter forced them to expend more energy and clips than he would have liked.

As they took a break, Gabriel briefly considered calling the control room to ask about the change before deciding against it. The scenario had always been somewhat random, and eight troopers was still within the typical size range for a turian squad. Besides, he didn't want to give either Ahern or Jack the impression that he was bothered by a mere two extra guards. He finished off a bar, washing it down with a healthy slug of juice, and shoved the wrapper into the pouch from which he had taken the bar. He looked over at Jack.

"Ready?"

Jack nodded and dropped the wrapper of her bar on the ground before taking off at a jog for her turret. Shaking his head, Gabriel picked up the discarded foil and stowed it as he set off for his own gun. He arrived a few seconds after Jack signaled ready over their private channel; raising his omni-tool to the simulated control interface, he called out:

"Set? Beginning hack. Thirty seconds."

"Copy," came Jack's response. "Thirty seconds here."

The hack took only thirty seconds, but to Gabriel it felt a lot longer. It felt even longer when, twenty-five seconds in, shots spanged into the pedestal on which the turret was mounted. Gabriel dropped behind the low railing, trying not to interrupt the hack.

"What the fuck?" Jack's voice burst over the comm.

"They're spawning," Gabriel replied, his voice going calm as he slipped into a combat mindset. Even so, a little voice in the back of his head noted: Not supposed to happen. "You all right?"

"Nothing near me. Are you okay?" He could hear the concern in her voice. It warmed him, but he pushed the feeling aside. Concentrate.

"They missed. Hack complete," he said, even as he heard both his and Jack's turrets open up, the steady whump! whump! whump! music to his ears. "Get to the Grizzly and pull the module. I'll see you there. If you get forced away from it, I'll catch up."

"What the fuck for? They're already shooting!"

"The timer hasn't started," he explained matter-of-factly, even as he unfolded the Carnifex and popped up from behind the railing. Sighting through the scope, he squeezed off six shots, managing to send four into a couple of turians descending one of the ramps at the far end of the enclosure before he dropped back behind cover. The trailing pair continued their advance despite the "death" of their comrades. Was kind of hoping they'd modeled morale more accurately by now, Gabriel thought to himself as he ejected the pistol's thermal clip and inserted another. Looks like they don't disappear in a flash of light anymore, though.

"Shit! This is fucked up, Shepard." He could hear Jack breathing slightly harder as she ran for the Grizzly.

"Agreed," he said, unfolding a sensor stalk from his omni-tool and poking it up over the railing. A turian fireteam spawned at the top of the ramp and advanced, close on the heels of the one whose numbers he had reduced by half. "You have incoming. Two then four close behind."

"Got it. Module's been pulled." Just then, the timer flashed onto his HUD and began counting down.

Evac in 00:05:00:00

"You coming?"

"Need to keep them off you. Get clear. Grenades inbound."

"Shepard-"

Gabriel cut her off.

"I'll. Catch. Up. Get clear. I'll be fine. Incoming."

He plucked two offensive grenades from his belt and arced them over the railing, applying a touch of biotic english as he did so. The muffled sequential crack! of the detonations brought a slight smile to his face. He popped up again; there was only one turian still "alive," crouching behind a crate, helmet poking around the corner. Gabriel gave him a lesson in the proper use of cover, sending two rounds into the spot where a human temple would be.

Evac in 00:04:35:00

Gabriel's HUD showed him that Jack had taken temporary shelter behind the stack of crates Garrus had used three years before. She was using shockwaves to knock out of cover the troopers trying to circle around the Grizzly's right side, then firing off short bursts from her pulse rifle to pick them out of the air like so many clay pigeons. Though she never stayed out of cover for very long, her barrier still sparked from enemy shots. It held, however. All told, she looked to have already taken out an entire squad. Gabriel grinned behind his visor.

Just as Jack seemed about to move, he noticed the vehicle door behind her opening. Quickly stowing the Carnifex, Gabriel pulled the Claymore from the small of his back. He was charging the pair of turians emerging from the door before the single word even left his mouth:

"Door!"

Jack turned, hands glowing, but Gabriel had already flattened the troopers. He triggered the Claymore. The massive shotgun bucked in his hands, sending a load of shot into the chestplate of one, turning it into a shattered, shredded mass of ceramics and composites. Not bothering to eject the thermal clip, Gabriel shifted his grip, freeing up his right hand. Sheathing it in a mass-effect field, he punched the other trooper's face guard, shattering it.

"Forgot some," Jack said, as two biotic projectiles curved neatly around Gabriel to throw another pair of troopers into opposite sides of the entryway. He felt the impact reverberate through the floor beneath his feet.

"Quit fucking grandstanding," she added, slapping the door control. "Gotta move."

Evac in 00:03:40:00

Gabriel risked a sideways glance as he and Jack pounded up a ramp onto one of the elevated walkways that ran around the interior perimeter. She was using mass-effect fields to augment her movement, the aura enveloping her in a blue-black glow that should have made her an easy target, but didn't. Bright streaks of light from hard-driven rounds ionizing the thin air reached out for her but missed, striking harmlessly against the floor and the boxes that littered it.

Jack ducked behind some crates – pausing only for a moment to orient herself – then spun and began running again, a shockwave screaming from her right hand to topple a group of enemies that had spawned in their path, the Carnifex in her left roaring as she fired it on the move, all in a single sequence of fluid motion. It was a dance of lethal, terrible, beauty, and Gabriel's breath caught momentarily in his throat. He had always found her beautiful; but in motion, and in her element as she was now, she was stunning. He almost forgot where he was. Almost.

It was all he could do to keep up, despite his armor's powered assists. He had unlimbered his Tempest, firing long bursts more for suppression fire than in the hope of actually hitting anything. When he did, it was due more to the single-mindedness of the opposition – often advancing in the open despite the availability of cover – than any marksmanship on his part. He changed thermal clips on the run as enemy fire spattered his barrier, making it shimmer.

They had reached the raised platform on the side of the enclosure opposite the door. Between the railings and several boxes, there was just enough cover for them to crouch side by side and catch their breath for a moment.

"Clips?" Gabriel asked, even as he tore the wrapper off an energy bar and wolfed it down, following it with several swallows of juice.

"Under half," Jack replied, around a mouthful of her own. She was nearly through a bar and looked about ready to start on a second.

"A little over half here. I'll try to keep their heads down. Keep eating."

Gabriel stowed the Tempest and quickly used the sensor stalk before lobbing the last of his grenades over the barricade. Once he heard them go off, he drew the Carnifex again and popped up. The storm of fire that met him was startling; the grenades should have reduced enemy numbers more than the incoming shots implied. His barrier flared and shattered, spoiling his aim, although he retained enough composure to expend the clip. When he dropped back behind the crates, the armor on his shoulders and arms was scored by repeated impacts, and his helmet had taken a glancing blow along one side that made his ears ring briefly.

"I'm fine," he told Jack, before she could say anything. "Barrier's down though. Should come back up soon."

She nodded, finishing her bar and taking up her pulse rifle. Gabriel's barrier came up a second later; not a moment too soon as it turned out. A turian fireteam came around the corner to their left and he and Jack were off and running again.

Evac in 00:02:10:00

The turret Gabriel had activated at the beginning of the scenario loomed ahead of them as he and Jack paused, each of them behind a pillar that broke up the smooth progression of the walkway. He looked over at her and she looked back; she was breathing hard and was sweating, but she was smiling. He smiled himself, even though his visor hid it and even though he was fairly certain that her smile wasn't for him, but because she was doing one of the things she enjoyed the most.

Beeping ominously, a grenade sailed lazily over the railing and rolled to a stop almost exactly between them.

They reacted as one, enclosing the grenade in a biotic grip and hurling it back over the railing, straight back at the trooper that had launched it. Individually, they might have placed the return throw exactly on target; collectively they applied too much force, leaving the grenade to explode against the opposite wall. Gabriel shrugged as a disgusted expression crossed Jack's face.

"Mine," she growled, and leaned briefly around her pillar while releasing a long tearing burst from her pulse rifle. Gabriel's extended sensor probe told him the burst had stitched a neat line from the turian soldier's crotch to his crown. The trooper collapsed in a heap.

"Let's go," she said, moving from the pillar to the ramp leading down, making sure to stay in the shadow of the turret. Gabriel followed.

Evac in 00:01:30:00

They found themselves back at the cluster of equipment crates where Jack had taken shelter at the beginning of the scenario. The inconsistent programming of the opposition – sometimes the fireteams would behave almost realistically, while at other times they would exhibit the mindless swarming behavior of three years prior – had worked in their favor this time. His and Jack's near-constant movement had strung out the enemy fireteams as they tried to pursue; the soldiers had gotten held up on corners and cover as they tried to take the most direct path toward their targets. Additionally, the turrets, both of which still functioned, had been and still were exacting a toll on the enemy's numbers. Once more, he and Jack had a somewhat longer window in which to rest. Or should have had, anyway. But it wasn't to be.

"Door!" This time it was Jack who called out the warning. The high-pitched chirp of her pulse rifle sounded in a continuous stream as she filled the thermal clip to capacity with waste heat. Two of the four troopers who had emerged from behind the door crumpled as she raked her fire across them. Gabriel had the Tempest out and shooting; so intent was he on dropping the remaining two troopers that he almost missed the additional fireteam that spawned behind the ones at which he was firing. Not supposed to happen, he thought to himself again, even as he charged.

When he came out of it, he saw that his charge had flattened the two turians from the initial spawn but had not quite reached the second group, who were already raising their weapons. Nothing in Gabriel's arsenal could take them out in time to prevent the massed fire from overwhelming his and Jack's barriers and seriously injuring, if not killing, one or both of them. None of his guns could, anyway.

Time slowed and Gabriel's instincts took over. He dropped the Tempest and knelt, smashing his right fist against the ground.

The somatic trigger poured energy into his barrier implants even as they caused the barrier itself to contract skin-tight. Then they released all that stored energy in a blinding flare of blue-black light and a tremendous explosion that threw the oncoming turians against the door pillars and the edges of the walkway. They slid down the walls, to lie bonelessly on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw Jack's barrier blaze in sympathy; although it stayed up, she was forced to brace herself against the boxes to avoid being knocked down herself.

The turians still struggling to rise were tossed into the air. With perfect timing, Jack threw them – one with each hand – into the walkway as well. Her grin was savage, more rictus than smile, and she released a shockwave that piled the bodies in a heap against the nearest wall. Gabriel felt a feral smile of his own contort his lips under the helmet, just as the notification came:

Evac in 00:00:00:00

And everything went quiet. As the old cliché went, the silence was deafening, seeming louder than the cacophony of battle that had preceded it. Gabriel got into cover anyway, scanning his HUD for any signs of movement, but apart from himself and Jack, nothing stirred inside the compound.

"I'm showing scenario's over," he said to Jack, trying not to sound too elated. "Confirm timer please."

"Yeah, yeah. It's over," she said; despite the derision in her voice, she looked relieved. Gabriel stood and removed his helmet, laying it on the boxes they had been sheltering behind.

"We made it."

"'Course we did," Jack replied; she had turned off her visor, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. Gabriel let her rest. Glancing at his omni-tool, he studied the glowing numbers, almost not daring to believe what they said. But their message was plain:

Evac in 00:00:00:00

Scenario Duration 00:09:24:00

Total Elapsed Time 00:11:15:00

Gabriel let out a sigh laden with all the tension and anxiety he had carried since the shuttle ride to Pinnacle. It was over. They had beaten the scenario. And they had come out in far, far better shape than he had ever dared hope. It had seemed easier than it had been three years ago, almost too easy, but he didn't care. He'd take it.

He bent over and touched Jack lightly on the shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, and the slightly frightened look she always had on awakening filled them before she saw him standing there. Gabriel turned his hand palm-up, offering it to her. She took it and he helped her to her feet, the movement bringing their faces into close proximity.

Jack's eyes were no longer faintly fearful; instead they were bright, alive - burning with a wild, joyous excitement that was almost disconcerting in its intensity. Her lips were slightly parted in a not-quite-smile and she was breathing hard, a thin sheen of perspiration covering her skin. She seemed to glow in the harsh lighting of the simulator, a glow that had nothing to do with her biotics. It was then that Gabriel remembered what she had told him on Pragia, of how she still got "warm feelings" - as she termed them – during a fight. If she had been stunning in the midst of combat, at that moment she was positively gorgeous.

Completely on impulse, Gabriel leaned in and kissed her full on the lips, not at all caring whether or not she still was mad at him.

He had his own eyes closed, so he could only imagine that hers widened as their lips touched. But he felt her stiffen briefly before she melted into the contact, her hands interlacing behind his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss even as his arms twined around her waist. Their tongues dueled all-too-briefly before she disengaged, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently, reluctantly, but firmly pushing him away.

"Goddamn perv." Her voice was husky, soft, faintly scolding, yet happy. "Taking advantage of a girl like that. Not the place or the time. Should know that better than anyone."

"Sorry," Gabriel replied, his own voice pitched low. "Just felt like it."

"Still gonna feel like that later?" Jack's voice remained soft, but mischief danced in her gaze.

"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off of hers.

"Gonna hold you to that."

"Does that mean you're not at mad at me anymore?"

"Dream on," she said, her old acerbity returning for an instant before she admitted, "Not as much."

"I'll take it."

"Guess we better get out of here."

"Guess we better," Gabriel agreed.

He crouched, picking up the Tempest from where he had dropped it during the fight and locking it into place on his left hip. He stood up, turning to face Jack, and saw a full squad of turian soldiers – two entire fireteams – spawn behind her.

She was watching him expectantly, hands on her hips, a finger tapping out a staccato beat against her jeans. He saw it all so clearly as his combat mindset returned, dilating time, slowing everything. Yet there was no time, as the turians began raising their weapons, no time for anything – except what he did next.

He charged, slamming his fist into the ground almost before the jump ended. The nova blazed, and three of the the turians dropped. Not enough, came the thought, but he paid it no heed; he was already charging again, punching the ground again, madly laying about with his fists, elbows, anything he could throw at them. Despair picked at the edges of his consciousness; if the enemies kept spawning, nothing either of them could do would let them survive more than a few minutes. And they kept coming.

It happened after the third nova, just as Gabriel felt like he had caught his second wind, just as he spotted Jack firing shockwaves and throwing troopers around like rag dolls, just as he thought they might make it through this. He had already picked his next group of targets when he found himself flying through the air. His last, incongruous thought, even as the world went dark, was:

That's not supposed to happen. I haven't charged yet.

Gabriel swam up from the depths of unconsciousness, the world gradually growing lighter as he did. It was an experience unwantedly similar to the time he had awoken after his death in the skies of Alchera. This time, however, he wasn't alone.

Admiral Tadius Ahern and Guard Captain Dahga stood to one side, their faces somber. Opposite them stood a young man, seemingly much too young for the gravity of his stare, the seriousness of his mien. He wore the uniform of the Alliance Medical Corps with the surname "Gosengfiao" stenciled on the nametag, the flashes indicating a rank commensurate with the position of chief medical officer of a major facility. Relief spread visibly over Ahern and Dahga's faces as Gabriel raised his head, fighting off the wave of dizziness and nausea that attended the movement; the doctor's grim expression eased somewhat, but no more than that. Despite being newly-awakened, Gabriel managed to speak first.

"Jack." His throat seemed as though it were full of sand. He coughed, tried to clear it, found only partial success.

"Jack," he repeated, grinding out the words through his uncooperative vocal chords. "Is she-" he began, dreading the answer.

"She's fine, Commander." The doctor's baritone voice was rounded, full, with a resonance completely at odds with his spare frame. "Moderate exhaustion, a few lacerations, but not at all serious. You fared worse, but considering the potential severity of the type of injuries you suffered, you're in surprisingly good shape."

"Turret got you," Ahern said, finally speaking up. "Glancing hit, otherwise we wouldn't be talking. Still lost your barrier, got your armor smashed all to hell. Looked really fucking ugly when we pulled you out of there."

"The primary source of your injuries was due to blunt trauma from the mass-effect fields simulating the explosion of the turret projectile," Doctor Gosengfiao said, taking up where Ahern had left off. "But you also suffered lacerations from the shrapnel produced by armor fragments and pieces of attached equipment-"

"At least you were winchester on the grenades," Ahern interrupted. "That would really have been ugly. But damn if Cerberus didn't rebuild you right. If it wasn't for that mesh in your hide-"

"Subdermal armor weave," the doctor interrupted in turn. "And quite a sophisticated form of it at that. I've only ever heard rumors about similar implants, most of them associated with alleged 'black' programs. As for the rest of you," he went on, "I don't know if even my rank and position would clear me to examine, let alone treat you, under normal circumstances."

"In any event, the subdermal weave combined with your other...enhancements prevented you from suffering worse injury. Your armor considerably mitigated the force of the explosion and the weave absorbed the remainder. It also stopped the shrapnel from penetrating, so while you have quite the extensive set of lacerations, they are shallow. The main area of concern was the potential for cranial and spinal injuries since you weren't wearing your helmet at the time."

"Am I all right or not?" Gabriel demanded, irritation shading over into anger at the continued discussion of things that seemed utterly trivial. Jack was all right, he was alive. That was all that mattered.

"You have a mild concussion, extensive bruising, and the aforementioned lacerations, none of which is life-threatening, especially in light of your unique physiology. I suppose that would qualify as being 'all right.'"

"All I need to know. Where's Jack?"

"She's right outside, Commander." It was Dahga who replied this time, and he might have gone on speaking had Ahern not interrupted him.

"Damnedest thing I ever saw, Shepard," he said, voice faintly awed. "When you went down, she threw everything out of her way and ran over to you. Then she lifted you with her biotics, put up this bubble, and tried to punch a hole in the goddamn wall. That was about when we managed to shut the simulator down. Good thing too – that wall she was punching was an exterior bulkhead. Would have opened the place to vacuum." Ahern shook his head before continuing.

"When we finally got the door open, she looked ready to kill the lot of us till she spotted the doc with his trauma gear. Then she looked like she'd kill us if we didn't get a move on. After we got you to sickbay, she didn't leave your side the whole time. Not till it looked like you were waking up, anyway. Then she bolted like her ass was on fire. Damnedest thing," he repeated.

"Can I see her?" Gabriel insisted.

"Nothing stopping you. Except maybe getting dressed first. Your armor's trashed, so we got some Alliance blues in your approximate size. Didn't think you'd mind. It's in the locker over there." The admiral pointed to the cabinet next to the bed. "Once you've met up with Jack, I'll need to talk to the two of you before you leave. I'll see you then."

Ahern turned and walked off. Dahga nodded once at Gabriel then followed.

"Commander," Doctor Gosengfiao said, "I know you're anxious to get going, but I'd just like to recommend that you take it easy for a day or so. The majority of your injuries are superficial, but even with your implants you'll take time to heal. Not too long, and the injuries will be primarily an inconvenience during that time, but rest will certainly accelerate the process."

"Thanks Doctor. I'm sorry if I was being short-"

"It's nothing. I saw the way she looked at you. If you reciprocate even half of that-" The doctor shrugged, inclined his head, then walked to his desk on the other side of his room, leaving Gabriel feeling faintly embarrassed.

He covered it up by easing himself out of bed, grimacing as the pain cut through the analgesic properties of the medi-gel. Drawing shut the curtain around the bed, he began dressing, noting in the process the bruises and already-healing wounds that covered much of his skin. I look like a patchwork quilt, he thought to himself, unpleasantly reminded of how he had looked when he had woken up on Lazarus Station. The Alliance duty uniform didn't fit perfectly, but it was familiar, even comfortable; he hadn't realized how much he had missed wearing it. That done, he went to find Jack.

She was sitting outside in the lounge, arms on knees, a cup of what looked like juice cradled untouched between her hands. When she heard Gabriel's footsteps she looked up, anger warring with relief on her face; as was so often the case, anger won out. But Gabriel managed to speak before she did.

"I'm glad you're all right."

At his words, Jack froze, mouth working slightly. Her hand quivered, and for a moment Gabriel thought she might throw the cup – not at him, but simply throw it at something. Instead, she settled for putting it down on the low table in front of her, spilling only a little of the liquid in the process. In a moment of irrationality, he wished she would hug him – but she would never do such a thing in a public place, even though they were alone. He'd have to do it himself, and given that he'd already cheated death – or at least serious injury – once that day, it might be unwise to tempt the fates further.

"You look like hell," she finally said, voice derisive as she looked him up and down. Her brow wrinkled as she took in the Alliance uniform. "Never liked those duds, but at least you're not in a Cerberus uniform."

"Good thing I don't feel like hell," he replied. "And the doc says I should be fine. Just need to take it easy for a bit."

"So we can leave?"

"Soon as we talk to Ahern. Probably going to debrief us."

"What're we waiting for then?" she asked, getting up from the chair. "Let's go."

The walk to Ahern's office took less than five minutes. When they entered after knocking, they found the admiral sitting behind his desk, alternating between studying the monitor and speaking to someone – from the sound of it, Javos – on the comm, his terse questions leaving his lips like bullets from a gun. He motioned them to sit as he finished the conversation. Then he pushed his chair back, stood, and turned to look out the window, his hands crossed behind his back. When he spoke, his voice was contrite.

"To begin, I'd like to apologize for what happened in there. It should never have happened, but it did, and for that I'm deeply sorry."

"We lived, so it's all good," Gabriel replied, trying to sound unconcerned, for all that found himself suddenly angry. He fully expected Jack to say something, but she seemed content to stay quiet and let him speak. "So what did happen?"

"Best Javos can tell is that there was some added code, maybe even a hostile VI, in the sim protocols. Good as he is, he's still trying to figure everything out. Won't be easy. There's little trace of it left in the systems." Ahern turned around and sat heavily in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him on the desk.

"Just before we cut power to the sim room, the logs recorded a tightbeam burst transmission from the station. But by the time we got system patrol to check along the burst's vector, there was nothing there."

"Do you know what was in it?" Gabriel asked.

"Not as such, no. We can guess though, from what's missing. Which is every scrap of combat data Pinnacle's ever recorded. It's not really a loss in the absolute sense – we had just backed up everything to offsite locations, apart from your most recent session – but it certainly compromises a lot of critical information, a good chunk of it classified to varying degrees."

"Damned if we know exactly who did it." Ahern leaned back, his face looking older than Gabriel had ever seen. "Can rule out some candidates, but that's the easy part. Alliance already has full access, which means Cerberus probably does too. It's part of our training agreement with our allies to share all data, so every friendly species can request copies. Hell, Spectres train here, so the Council's included in that list. Which leaves what? Geth? Batarians? Aria? Shadow Broker? Too many goddamn possibilities."

"Not to sound paranoid, but were we being targeted?" As he asked the question, Gabriel felt Jack tense beside him, heard the arms of her chair creak as she gripped them – hard. He laid a hand on top of hers and kept it there until she, very fractionally, relaxed.

"You have more than enough people gunning for you, sure enough. But it didn't look like it was trying to kill you, not through the main part of the scenario anyway, just at the end. But that might have been just you being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe that was part of the plan – make you think everything was copacetic then drop the hammer on you. Can frame it either way, really."

"Any problems before today?"

"A few. Apart from keeping the systems state-of-the-art, it was part of the reason for the refit. But since the safeties were always on, it was never as bad as what happened with you. Besides, it usually worked to the benefit of the trainees. Took them out of their comfort zone, made them raise their game."

"So we weren't really worried even when the waves started early. Especially not after you took 'em down and made it look easy in the bargain. Besides, I'd told you I wasn't going to insult either of you by making things a cakewalk, so even though I had my hand on the panic button the whole time, I didn't pull the plug. Not until things really went to pot." At this Ahern lapsed into silence. Gabriel just nodded, waiting for the admiral to speak.

"Well we tried to pull the plug, anyway. Long story short, we couldn't. Eventually had to cut mains power to the room itself. That took longer than I'd have liked. Power grid's not designed with a simple on-off switch – don't want it to be either. After that, well, told you that part of the story when you woke up," he said, sparing a quick glance at Jack.

"The bottom line is that we just don't know a whole lot, Shepard," the admiral went on, rubbing at his eyes. "Not without examining that outside program. Best I can offer is a lot of educated guessing. That and another apology. Small consolation I know, but there it is."

"Thanks for telling us." Gabriel was still angry, but Ahern wasn't the enemy. Even so, it was infuriating to not know who was the enemy. Suppose it comes with the territory, he finally told himself.

"Least I can do. I'd replace your armor, but it's not even supposed to exist yet. I'll definitely keep you posted once we know more – if we ever know more. Dahga tells me that you already know everything we currently have on last night's incident, so I've got nothing more to say about that. I wish yesterday and today could have gone a lot better for the two of you, but you know what they say about wishes and horses."

"Comes with the territory," Gabriel replied, echoing his earlier thought. "If there's nothing else, I think we'd better be getting home."

"Of course. I'll have someone fly you down to Intai'sei right away. Guess this is good-bye, Shepard, Jack." Ahern stood and extended his hand.

"Just call it a 'see-you-later,' Admiral." Gabriel shook the proffered hand. Ahern withdrew his hand as soon as the handshake was over; apparently the admiral understood Jack well enough to know that she tended not to shake hands under any circumstances.

"Dammit, Shepard. Told you to call me Ahern," he chided, smiling for the first time in the entire conversation.

"Old habits, Ahern."

"I hear you. Good luck out there. Wherever you finally land."

Fortunately, the shuttle ride back to Intai'sei was uneventful compared to their trip to Pinnacle earlier that day. That changed not long after they ran security checks, entered the door to the apartment, and sealed it behind them.

Without a word, Jack stripped off her kit and headed for the shower, leaving Gabriel to put away what was left of his own gear. The Claymore had survived – it had been built to be used and abused by krogan, after all – as had the Carnifex, although the latter's scope had been torn off and rendered unusable. The Tempest was a total loss, as was the bulk of his armor; the pieces that had remained viable were in a crate they had left by the door. As he took off the borrowed Alliance uniform, Gabriel sighed, partly in relief, partly in resignation. Relief at having finally come to the end of the day with only minor injuries, resignation at being reminded at how he must look due to those injuries.

Crew's going to have a field day with this, especially Joker and Mordin, he thought to himself, sighing again. He had just pulled clean underclothes and a towel from the closet when he heard the bathroom door open.

Gabriel turned, prepared to go take a hot shower, grab a quiet dinner with Jack, then settle down to stargaze or somesuch before sleep. Mundane things, but-not-boring-because-it-was-with-Jack things. So he wasn't at all prepared for what happened next.

Jack tackled him with enough force to throw them both onto the bed, using her biotics to soften the impact enough so they settled onto the mattress with a soft thump, drawing only mild protest from his battered body. Her lips were all over his face and neck, hands running gently but confidently over his form, her own body pressed into his, the heat evoking an answering warmth. For his part, Gabriel found himself mimicking her movements, caressing the expanse of her back, traveling along her hips and thighs, coming up to cup her bottom, pull her even more firmly against him.

He licked her neck, sucking softly, tasting soap, his lips unintentionally running along one of the matching scars that adorned either side. Jack shuddered, in ecstasy or from unpleasant memory, Gabriel didn't know, couldn't tell, not now, not like this. But he retained enough presence of mind to notice that she shied, balked, pulled away when he tried to kiss her on the mouth. Gabriel opened his eyes, saw that hers were closed, just before the lights went out.

She had used her interface to close the shutters and lightpipes in addition to turning off the internal lighting, plunging the apartment into a near-total darkness broken only by the telltales on kitchen appliances, equipment benches and lockers, and those on Jack's interface itself. But all of them were either too small, too distant, or too weak to illuminate the gloom.

"Jack-" he began, "What-" She tried to silence him with a finger on his lips; he felt, rather than saw, the scars. Even as he struggled with his physical responses, Gabriel refused the tacit request, anxiety crawling in, scratching at, his gut.

"Jack-" he repeated. She cut him off again, this time with words. Soft, almost pleading, a tone he had never, ever, heard her use.

"Don't- don't say anything. Let's just do this, 'kay?" she whispered. Then she said it, the one word he had never heard leave her mouth. Ever. "Please."

That clinched it, gave Gabriel the last ounce of strength he needed to rein in his lust. Reluctantly, he took his hands from her body and found her wrists, enclosing them in a gentle, yet firm grip and lifting them from his skin. Then he lightly placed his hands on her shoulders, gently urging their bodies apart. It was one of the most difficult things he had ever done; his flesh still burned from where it had touched hers, and he was so hard it was painful. But it was something he felt – he knew – he had to do.

"No," he disagreed, voice throaty with arousal. "No we're not." He sent a signal to his implants and turned on the lights – low, easy on the eyes, but more than enough to see Jack clearly.

Her expression was at once confused, frightened, frustrated, angry- and sad. When she spoke, the emotions echoed in her tone.

"What? I want this. Know you want it too. This don't lie," she said, brushing a palm across his loins, making him shudder at the contact. But he somehow managed to keep himself under control.

"I do want it." Voice holding steady, iron discipline from nearly two decades of soldiering proving its worth. "But I told you already. Not until it's the right time. For both of us."

"Said it yourself," she retorted, "Don't know when the right time will come. If it'll come. Got to take what we can get, when we can get it."

"Said you'd be ready when I was ready," she went on. "I'm ready. That kiss earlier, when we thought we'd won? That a lie?" The pain in her eyes, in her voice, hurt him, more than the shot from the turret, more than the re-entry over Alchera, ever had.

"No," he answered, his own pain leaching into his tone, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out. "Not then, not now, not ever. But Jack-" He took a deep breath, feeling his bruised chest protest with a stab of pain that had little to do with the physical.

"Why didn't you want to kiss me just now?" Not giving her time to answer, he plowed on. "Why don't you want me to talk? Why do it in the dark where we can't see each other?" And then he said it, voicing the doubt, the fear, that had nagged at him even in the throes of passion:

"Why does this feel like goodbye?"

Jack spoke no answer at first, but her body language gave all the answer Gabriel didn't need. He saw her eyes narrow, her face close down, felt the warmth flee from her every line, even as he sensed her anger building, rising, winning out, overshadowing everything else. When she finally said something, the frozen tone of her voice was completely at odds with the fire in her eyes.

"Fuck you. What the hell do you know?"

She rose from the mattress, every movement stiff, almost forced. Tugging a sheet from the bed, she wrapped it around herself, walked to the couch, and lay down, disappearing from Gabriel's view.

Numbly, he sat up and put on his clothes; pulling the remaining sheets up to his waist, he rested his back against the headboard. He sat like that for hours, hoping that she would say something, do something that would acknowledge his existence, for all that his heart knew it wouldn't happen. Not tonight. And perhaps not ever again. When exhaustion finally claimed him, he dreamt of dark tunnels and nuclear fire.

~ End Day 6, Part 2 ~

Author's Notes: Going to try and keep this short and sweet (for me, anyway). First the practical stuff:

1) Day 7 is going to be tough to write. I know where I'm beginning and where I'm finishing it, but the middle is just a broad outline at this point. To establish a baseline of comparison, it took me several days to write the last section of this installment - given that a good chunk of Day 7 is similar emotion-content-wise, you should have an idea how long it might take. The only thing I can promise is what I've promised all along: that I will NOT drop TWK if it is at all in my power to keep it going. Beyond that I can only hope that it won't take me another year and a half to update. I do want to finish this arc and begin on the TWK one-shots.

2) In the couple of days since I posted my previous notes, I've reconsidered my decision to incorporate the one-shots under the same heading as the Intai'sei arc. Instead, they will be under the category of "TWK ~ Vignettes" (or something along those lines).

Now for the "talking-out-loud" stuff:

The reason this installment was finished so (relatively) quickly is that pretty much 80-90% of it was written and mostly finalized by the time I made the decision to release Part 1. The remainder (which part that is should be blindingly obvious if you've read this far) is what gave me trouble, so much so that I released Part 1 because I wasn't sure how long it would take before Part 2 was where I wanted it.

As for the closing scene, I want to say by way of an apologia (not an apology) that this is where I'd always intended our intrepid pair to end up at this particular point in TWK. They're ending up back together, of course - my bias toward this LI pairing and my own future plans make that clear - but the road there (as many others have said before me) will never be truly smooth, not for characters with the emotional baggage these two have, and certainly not this early in their relationship. It's simply not realistic, even in fiction (that wants to retain its self-respect anyway). I just hope that my efforts to portray that bumpy road don't come off as too forced, out of character, or out of the blue, especially in light of the inevitable explanations that will be presented on Day 7.

Just one more bit. The more I examine things, the more it looks to me like Bioware's decision to give Jack something other than Shepard to care about (i.e., her students at Grissom), is their way of hinting that Shepard might not make it through the events of ME3 (not that I agree with how the ending goes, mind - I still heartily despise that travesty of a conclusion). If not something to replace him, then perhaps something to fill the void that will exist once he's gone (especially if your Shep chose to romance her, but also even if all he did was help her begin to heal). Cold comfort, maybe, but better than nothing. Just my two cents - and a rambling two cents at that.

In closing, I would once more like to thank all of you who have visited, read, stayed, what-have-you. Time is at a premium these days, and for you to spend some of it here, with this story, is appreciated more than you can really know.