A/N: So, usually really big on author's notes, but I'll spare you the diatribe. Only warnings are as follows: quite explicit and possible *trigger* content ahead. You have been warned. :-)

And as I said from the beginning, I have no valid excuse for this. None at all.

"Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free 'til they find someone just as wild to run with them." - Sex and the City

Chapter 4 - Redemption

I stared out into the wind-swept vastness of that god-forsaken planet, watching the red whorls of wind swirl to and fro. It was easier that way; easier not to have to think about the decision I'd just made.

In life, you don't get second chances. Once the card is played, the words are said, the...shot has been taken, you can't undo it. Never before had I allowed myself to regret.

But when faced with the loss of Garrus Vakarian, I would have given anything to take it back.

I wish I could have said it was justice, but in truth taking that shot had been nothing but pure fear. I had almost decided to come clean with him, almost decided that maybe I had it all wrong, in the weeks leading up to our assault on the Collector base. Then, the night before the relay, after all of his bumbling insecurity and uninformed attempts at seduction, I'd accepted him anyway. Been determined that we could admit everything we both had been hiding, work everything out somehow.

He'd won me over, simply put, by his damn near impossible to defeat battlefield presence. First he'd earned my respect all over again when he faced down the Council in spite of his connection to them, then my admiration when he'd taken the shot to kill Sidonis in spite of my interference, and finally he'd taken the rest as we rushed through the derelict Reaper, which I now knew to be the moment he'd discovered my act. It just seemed like that when we were together, just like always, all oppositions fell before us as if they were nothing. I was good, so was he, and together, we were an unstoppable force of nature. That could only hold true to everything else, right? Of life, of happiness, of...love.

That sounded so melodramatic, didn't it? More like something out of some over-romanticized vid than my own somewhat callous thought processes. Still, that didn't change the fact that watching him balance the two halves of his life, while still maintaining his sense of humor and love of the fight, had forced me to see things I would rather not have in a 'traitor.'

None of it mattered, though, because he'd fucking left me alone that night, walked away in spite of it all. That rejection was unforgivable.

It had also cemented the entire situation, hadn't it? Made quite clear that there were certain things he just wasn't willing to do for his 'cover.' If he couldn't cross that line in the sand, couldn't see past my humanity long enough to see the warrior, then he wasn't worthy of my emotions. Not at all.

And now it was over. I'd shot him, assuaged my hurt feelings, brought a liar to justice...

So why was my chest filled with an almost painful longing for what could never have happened? It should not fucking hurt, the death of a betrayer. It made the tears on my face more traitorous to me than he had ever been.

Even when we were shooting it out, I had felt that connection all over again. It had almost gotten to the point that the competition had seemed a game, a challenge of skill against the one opponent a commander should never have to face: her second in command. My throbbing arm and still sore head tried to negate that thought, but it's not as if I were unused to pain.

And then, I'd let fear of being hurt a second time rule my hand.

What would you do, if someone betrayed you?

I don't know, but I wouldn't let it change me.

"I'm so sorry, Garrus. Sorry for everything. I won't let them get away with what they forced me to do. I'll honor your memory." The phrase came out as barely a whisper, and I shook my head, trying to clear away the muddled thoughts, to summon the willpower to get up. To clean up the shattered glass, the broken wood, all the blood...

Memory of the destroyed room flashed in front of me in response to that thought, bringing to the forefront a small detail that up until now I'd been too aggrieved to consider too closely. That spots of my own red were the only blood in the room.

"Just a mom-" That sentence was cut off an instant later by a taloned hand over my mouth, grip strong, and another around my waist as I was yanked upward. My body came back flush against a much more unforgiving surface as my former adversary pulled me against him with all of his considerable strength, and in spite of the millions of instinctive battle tactics I knew to break free of such a hold before he gained a better grip, I was immobilized by one, single thought.

He's alive. Thank god he's alive.

"Shepard, you shot me," he whispered across my ear, grip never loosening, "You realize things like that tend to put a damper on any partnership, even one like ours."

Shit… I suppose he might feel a differently about not wanting to kill me now...

Finally, my body snapped into action as my mind realized my danger, feet jumping up to kick off the couch, only to find myself yanked backwards a little further.

"Oh, I don't think so, girl. I'm going to move my hand, and we're going to have a nice little talk about your plans for the Council. I'll kill you myself before I'll let you harm them. I've worked too damn hard at this job to let you screw it up now."

I shook my head at the vehemence in his voice, freeing myself enough to bite down. Hard. I tasted cordite, and would have done serious damage to a human attacker, but only managed to draw a laugh out of my captor.

"Nice try, but if I were you I wouldn't start things you probably have no intention of finishing." In spite of the craziness of the situation, there was a teasing lilt to his tone, one that caused me to freeze in confusion.

Images, completely unbidden, assaulted me at those words: all of the dreams I'd had leading up to the relay, all of the ideas that went through my head every time the pair of us tagged another kill. Even during our little mock battle earlier, I hadn't been able to escape a moment of longing as I watched him move through our arena like a precision machine. His keen eye for details, his passion for everything he undertook...

It's sarcasm, Shepard, and he's intent on killing you. Get your head where it needs to be.

Still, my body tensed involuntarily at the memories, heat spreading throughout me at his close proximity, and also at his dangerous intent. I always had found dangerous men appealing, after all; even ones contemplating my demise. It wasn't as if he would know what was going through my head, regardless. His somewhat endearing attempts at romance had proven that he had no clue about human physiology.

Unless that had been a cover, too... A thought that was proven when he next moved.

His grip on my waist had continued to keep me above the ground with almost no effort on his part, cutting into my hips as he had started to move his hand before my little rebellion. At that action, though, and the bodily reactions that followed my remembrances, something in the man behind me changed. He set me down, taloned hand still in laid across my waist, the other moving to trail down the side of my throat as he said, "Then again, maybe we could go about this the way we should have from the beginning."

His hand continued to trace lines of delicious fire down my bare shoulder, gliding lightly down my arm as it generated goosebumps wherever he touched.

"Somehow, I think I can convince you to change your plans. Call it a guess."

"You presume too much, turian." Even to my own ears, that statement sounded false, holding a lack of conviction that was glaringly obvious to both people in the room, no doubt.

"You didn't seem so reluctant last time…" he purred, stroking up and down both arms now as he spoke, "I find it hard to believe that you've changed your mind so quickly."

"You walked away. I got over it." I crossed my arms, ignoring his touch, focusing on the window in front of me so that it was easier not to respond to him. So intent was my attention that I didn't realize he had been forced to release his hold continue his seduction, and I started to move away, only to have an arm encircle my waist almost painfully once more.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I pushed against his arms with my own, to no avail, before gracing him with an answer.

"Back to the Normandy. I can't do this, Vakarian."

His grip loosened slightly, but not enough to break free, as he asked, "So you were only trying to keep your little secret, before the relay?" He seemed somewhat hurt, but there was still that dangerous note there as well. It left me wondering, if only for a minute, if forcing himself on me in spite of my denial was crossing his mind. Then I came to my senses, remembering that while Vakarian might be many things, a rapist he was not. Him leaving the night before the relay was proof of that.

"NO," I turned in his hold, placing my hands on his chest for leverage as I glared at him, answering his question, "I mean that I can't fight you again, Garrus. I couldn't take the shot twice."

He seemed genuinely perterbed by my resistance, and my answers, as he responded, "Why would you have to do so?"

"Because this will all come up again, even with it everything out in the open. Especially since you now seem much more open to the idea of killing me."

He tilted his head, considering, "All you have to say is one little phrase, Shepard: 'I'm not going to assassinate the Council.' Then, all your problems go away."

"The Council are a bunch of idiots, but not worth wasting the bullets on if you're alive," I stared at him in exasperation, continuing with a sigh, "There's no revenge to exact, Vakarian. Give me a little credit, please. If I'd wanted them dead on principal I'd have done it when Saren attacked the Citadel."

He stared at me, as if trying to gauge the honesty of my words, before stating with a wicked smile, "Well, I still think you need convincing, Shepard."

He pulled me towards him, gripping my shoulders forcefully, bringing me flush with the soft material of his tunic. He leaned forward, and I stood frozen, trapped by the combination of violence and lust his face held, so close and yet so far. Slowly, he moved down, nipping at my shoulder and working his way upwards, teeth applying just enough pressure to set my body on fire. I sucked in a breath, trying to summon the willpower to be mad, to pull away, to say no.

But I didn't want to say no. I wanted to show him what he'd thrown away by betraying me. What he'd given up a lifetime of experiencing for the Council he thought so much of.

My body finally responded to my wishes, and I brought my hands up to his shoulders, shoving him back and down at the same time. He dragged me with him, the two of us landing on the glass and wood-chip covered floor without a care for the damage the debris caused us. Turians were physically incapable of kissing, and that sort of sensuality wasn't what I wanted anyway. I abandoned all romance I usually associated with sex, in favor of allowing my hands to roughly explore fringe and plates, finding pleasure in my partner's roughness as he did the same. Almost frantically, I worked my hands into his waistband, pulling his shirt away with unforgiving motions as he forced his own to bring my skirt up, sharp talons applying light pressure along my spine as he did so. I struggled with the back of his tunic where it was pinned to the floor, and he rolled, trapping me underneath him again as I pulled upward, the two of us managing to get it over his head. He barely interrupted his light nips and licks to do so, resuming his ministrations as soon as that barrier was removed, as if he were determined not to interrupt our activities for even the short time needed to remove the obvious obstacles.

For my part, I was filled with a need to touch him, to feel the roughness of his body that matched his spirit. It seemed he felt the same way, talons once again forcing my dress upwards as he felt his way up my sides, nose still buried in the crook of my neck; it seemed he was determined to drown I my scent, or perhaps he could smell the changes in my body as he continued to roam in search of what would draw reactions from me. The problem was, the very feel of him over me induced shudders everywhere, his hands impossibly warm against the sweat-cool skin he was grazing with every small move. I felt heat spread down low, and I moaned, a sound which caused him to harden above me, something easily felt even through clothes he still wore.

When his attempts to remove my dress more fully failed, I could see his intent in his eyes, and cut that train of thought off before he could fulfill it.

"Rip this dress, and I'll kill you, Vakarian."

He stopped, smiling slightly before answering, "You already tried that, Shepard. Let's go for a threat you'll actually back up."

"You son of a—" I drew back, intent on hitting him for his insolence, only to have my hand pinned as he laughed at my attempts. He lifted me, finally working the dress over my shoulders, releasing my right arm long enough to throw the grey material to the floor. Leaning down, he grabbed the other hand, tracing a tongue along one nipple before pulling back at my gasp.

"Let me go, you fucking…" I tried to pretend my squirming was anger, and not a result of the immediate undeniable desire that flared at the feel of his naked chest against my own, and the roughness of his tongue against my breasts.

"Do you really want me to?" He moved to the other nipple, eyes watching me as he grazed me with teeth, lightly dragging talons down my forearms. My back arched against the dual sensations, causing me to wonder where in the hell he'd found the time to learn so much about the human body. It was both erotic and irritating, finding myself so easily responding to his movements; knowing that he had the tools to completely disarm me.

Well fuck that, two could play at that game.

"Let go of my arms, and I'll show you, asshole."

He quirked a brow in response to my challenge, and I reached up, snagging the weapon he would probably never have known to look for: my hair sticks, a specialty item commissioned for tonight, with sharpened ends. My strands fell away as I sat up, putting the stilettos to his throat with precise movements, eyes never leaving his. I glared at him, waiting for some reaction: fear, anger, hatred, betrayal. Instead, what met my vision was that imperturbable smirk, an unwavering gaze that showed no emotion at all except amusement.

Goddamn it.

I put more pressure on, drawing just enough blood to return his injury to my own body earlier. His face remained impassive, unaffected, until finally I dropped the weapons in exasperation, only to have him reach over and push it further away.

"You really weren't scared, were you?" I said finally, narrowing my eyes in confusion at the figure still poised patiently over me. I felt his body respond insistently above me once again, and it was only then that it occurred to me that his reactions had never changed throughout my attempts to cow him, like the fucking bastard was turned on by the idea of me killing him. For all I knew, maybe he was.

"Scared of you? Not in the slightest, I'm afraid. Your scent betrays where your thoughts really are. However…" he reached up suddenly, gripping my hair harshly where it now lay unbound, "I appreciate you making this easier." The pressure was just enough to cause me to comply, a whimper escaping me as he ran his cat-like tongue delicately along the wound he'd given me, already on the way to healing.

"You wanna die twice in one night, turian? Anaphylaxis tends to be a mood killer." The words were breathy, almost undecipherable, and I couldn't find the presence of mind to care about my quickly dwindling willpower.

"Even death is scared of the two of us. Haven't you figured that out yet?" Soon, teeth replaced tongue, slight pressure on the side of my throat as he explored those sensitive areas. Rough cheeks, the light twitching of mandibles against my skin, and harsh breath assaulted me; even if I had wanted to move at that moment, I couldn't have removed myself from his touch. His free hand continued to wander my body tentatively as he pinned me, a delicious combination of soft palms and warm plates and sharp talons.

There was something, some aspect, of the whole thing; his animal need, his rough treatment that just bordered on destructive, the way he seemed to be holding nothing back, that finally caused me to reconsider my motives.

There would be plenty of time for regrets in the morning. Tonight was for us, as we should have been the whole time. That was what I wanted.

I fought against him, watching him pull away as I did so, looking at me hard. Again, there was a possessive note when he spoke, "Do you truly want me to stop, Shepard?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head vehemently, "But, I don't want to do this here, either. The chafing is going to be bad enough as it is, without adding glass cuts all over my back to explain. Of course, I could always just tell Chakwas I like it a little rough…"

He was in the process of standing as I spoke, and at that last statement his face lit slightly, hand reaching down to take my own. He pulled me up into him sharply, commenting, "Somehow, I don't think that would be a lie, would it, girl?"

I chuckled lightly, reaching up to yank his fringe hard as I did so.

"Not in the least."

Somehow, around all the heat and stumbling and frantic need to touch one another, we found our way to the bedroom without falling down, or damaging any more of my already ruined apartment. The extravagant four-poster, the one that I'd never actually slept in, still lay there, covers untouched by any since its purchase. As we came across the threshold, he picked up, strong arms lifting me easily without even releasing his now renewed hold on my hair. He tossed me onto the bed lightly, hungry gaze never leaving my own as he joined me, crawling above me with a wolfish air as his talons found their way to the only clothing that I had managed to maintain. These he ripped quickly, not giving me a chance to threaten him again. I narrowed my eyes at him

"Should've spoken faster, Shepard. Call it the price of bedding a predator."

I tilted my head at the word. "Is that so? Exactly how long have you been hunting this particular prey?" I reached down, working at his belt as I spoke, the lust in his piercing blue eyes never even wavering.

"Too long for my almost limitless patience, I'm afraid," his face was inches from mine, breath hot but sweet to my senses, "Some quarry is harder to tame than others." He leaned forward, nipping at my earlobe lightly, but I refused to be distracted from my work.

My hands succeeded at their task, and I reached past his waistband, grasping him firmly as I did so. It was his turn to arch into my touch while I marveled at the feel of him, alien but familiar in the same breath, hard and responsive to my own hands. I found no small amount of glee in returning his easy manipulation of my own arousal before.

"Then what are you waiting for?" I asked quietly, hands still moving, "Claim your spoils, my hunter."

I felt the remainder of his clothing come away an instant later, as if spurred into movement of their own accord by my teasing. Seconds later, hands roughly grabbed me, causing me to lose my grip as my world spun. I found myself on my knees facing the dresser across from the foot of the bed, his rough chest coming flush with my back. I looked up as I felt him start to enter, ever so slowly, then pull back. Eyes locked on the reflective surface in front of me, on his face consumed with desire and longing, I couldn't help but writhe against him, trying to bring us together. There was a low snarl from behind me as I watched him close his eyes, feeling teeth lightly graze my shoulder in a more silent warning not to move again.

I stopped my squirming, almost panting in anticipation as he entered me for the second time, pushing a little farther than before. He entered me again, twice, three times, each time moving a little closer, filling me a little more as he grunted harshly into my hair. My eyes snapped up to my own face, watching as he entered me for the last time, bringing his hips against me with a final groan as he bit down on the back of my neck with abandon.

It was good that my body was wet, and more than ready for him, because he was almost too large for me to accommodate. His slow entrance had given me a chance to adjust somewhat; though that turian hadn't been too proud to use it to his advantage, had he? I found it hard to voice my complaint around own series of overwhelming sensations: my own face taking on a pornographic expression, mouth contorted into an 'O' without any accompanying sound as my body, mind, and nerves all fought for control of my senses. He pulled away, teeth leaving me, then pushed forward again with a fluttering of mandibles against my shoulder blades, his own lewd exhalation feeding my own craving for him. His knees were fixed against the outside of my own, holding me in place as my body clenched involuntarily around him. His chest rumbled against me as he felt it, talons gripped over my hands as we stayed that way, giving my body a little more time to adjust to the size of him.

Time he refused to waste, his right hand moving up to grip my trailing brown hair once again, grip unyielding as he turned my head to face him.

"Will you fight me, or beg for mercy?" the teasing lilt was gone, causing my breath to catch as I considered his ultimatum. He pulled back slightly, causing my body to rebel, and my mind to be made for me. His greedy gaze met my own in the reflection in front of us, small movement from within me causing my eyes to roll back slightly as I answered without any more hesitation.

"No more fighting," I said, almost begging in my desperations, "Please…" it was little more than a harsh whisper, ever nerve in my body poised for his next move. He pulled away little farther, hair still in his grip, then brought us together once again. I bucked against him without meaning to, overwhelmed by the explosions in my body as every nerve protested against the over-stimulation our joining created. I ignored that, focusing instead of the humming of my body as endorphins rushed through me, reaching back to claw harshly at the back of his neck as I fought against the urge to scream in ecstasy. He took that as permission to continue, the easy motions becoming more rhythmic, each time we united drawing another cry from my throat.

It wasn't long before the expanse of my back began to feel like it had been set aflame, as my skin responded to the friction of plates on much softer hide. I didn't care, though, my pain and pleasure centers becoming mixed as I became absorbed more and more in the smell and feel and sound of our exertions, my voice soon as raw as my exterior from the variety of sounds it was producing.

As suddenly as it had begun, he stopped moving, my partner pulling away from me without preamble. I sent a small whine of frustration over my shoulder, only to find myself being rolled over once again, cushioning my back against the softness of the comforter.

"Can't do too much damage, can we?" Garrus said with a chuckle, eyes once again meeting mine without the aid of the mirror, his expression somewhat softer as he watched me.

"I would have been fine for a few more minutes," I said in return, the slight cracking of my words causing me no small amount of wonder at the man who had caused it.

"Who says that would have been long enough?" He didn't give me a chance to answer, bringing my legs up to his shoulders, forcing himself in all over again from this new, and tighter, position. Back arching anew, I reached up to fumble at the headboard futilely for a moment before finding purchase, no longer able to keep from screaming his name as my world melted into nothing but our motions. Coherent thought was lost, as my body and mind became focused on nothing more than the feel of him against me, within me, and the sound of him calling my own name in turn. His passion brought us closer and closer to rapture with each thrust, as he satisfied every desire we'd been holding back.

We would never be able to withhold ourselves again after this night; of that, I was sure.

What seemed like days later, but was probably only hours, I lay cradled against his chest on the bed, the sheets and blankets in disarray and somewhat worse for the wear; not much different than their owner, if I were completely honest with myself. Gone were the contemplations of revenge and punishment, my sated and exhausted body and mind unable to entertain such thoughts any longer.

His arm was wrapped underneath me, hand lightly tracing his way up my back. Without warning, he found a particularly tender abrasion, and I couldn't help but exhale sharply in pain as a result. I tried to stem the response, but he must have heard it, because his hand quickly fell away. My eyes were still closed, but I didn't resist his movement as he rolled me off to face away from him, only asking, "What are you..."

My question was interrupted by the return of his hands, as gentle now as they had been rough so soon before. The medigel on them acted as a cool salve on the multiple cuts and raw skin as he applied it to each of my injuries. He used just as much care as he had to more serious wounds after multiple missions, much as I had tended to his own lacerations and bullet holes, and the familiarity was a combination of comforting and appealing.

"You know, I do have some rather advanced healing," I said, but there was no condemnation to the statement, only an easy sigh as relief replaced the pain, "I'd have been fine after a while."

"Hmm…no, I don't think so," he responded, "I don't believe I'd have been willing to wait and see." His hands continued their movements, this time probing a slightly deeper wound in my side where he had gripped me as he climaxed, a slash I hadn't even felt at the time, "The council wouldn't look kindly on me damaging their prodigal."

I closed my eyes farther against the new warmth his hands were bringing, in spite of the coolness of the medication, commenting, "Somehow, I find it hard to believe they'd be willing to condemn another Spectre for the work. You wouldn't be the first to have harmed me. In fact, I think you would be number three, if my math skills are still functioning…"

"Yes, but since I don't think I'm done damaging you for the evening…" My eyes flew open in time to catch the mischievous glint to his eyes as he moved over me, one that was quite familiar, and usually only displayed when an adversary made a quite fatal move. It was a preamble to the kill shot. He went on, "after all, some hunts take several days, and some prey refuses to be tamed…"

I grinned, sitting up as I did so, my adversary leaning back to kneel as I moved. I mirrored him, the bed bouncing slightly at the pressure of my knees as I came in front of him. "Then consider this your first lesson in role reversal, my fellow Spectre. This time, you shall be the prey."

The amused flare of his mandibles as I pounced with a growl, causing him to fall onto his back with a startled laugh, was the last thing I heard before our games began anew. Hopefully, with any luck, they would last the rest of our days, however long those may be.

*/*/*

Two Spectres, two lives,

One hunter and one prey

Wage battles of fire, and wind, and ice

Yet hold their hopes along their way

Such is the power of devotion and love

No matter what the guise...