Chapter Text
Final verdict: dying sucked. Obviously, most people didn't want to die, but most people also didn't come back to navel-gaze on the subject. Fiona couldn't really remember the first two times. In each case, SAM had acted quickly, and she only had muddled flashbacks with no aftereffects. But this most recent instance, violently cut off from SAM and left to expire on Khi Tasira...this one lingered.
Both Lexi and SAM said there was no permanent damage, and SAM wasn't inextricably linked to her life any more. That was, in and of itself, a minor miracle. And in the long run, restoring her implant to default Pathfinder functionality was probably good for both of them. She didn’t have to worry about dying if she lost her symbiont, and SAM wouldn’t be such a tempting target for her enemies.
Still, everything fucking ached . Between losing SAM, brute-forcing Remnant interfaces, then fighting through a robot army for her brother, she'd pushed body and mind to the absolute limit. Only momentum, Lexi's stimulants, and the knife's edge between terror and rage had carried her through.
Now she was walking, talking, breathing again--and it was awful despite Lexi's best efforts. Her head pounded in bright light. Her limbs felt like jelly. The world teetered when she walked too fast. Even SAM was feeling it, through her.
Fiona, he said over their private channel as she pulled on some respectable clothes over her pajamas. There are celebrations taking place in the Atrium. I suggest moderation.
Fiona laughed. Even that felt weird, with a raspy edge to it. "I'm not planning on getting sloshed. I think both of us need a break."
I can contact Dr. T'Perro, if you wish. I am sure she would be willing to make excuses on our behalf.
It was a tempting offer. But Tann, Addison, Kandros, and Kesh had finally arrived on Meridian, and she really couldn't avoid them for much longer before Tann started battering down her door. Besides, the human ark crashing into an alien dyson sphere was a big deal. Who knew what Nexus leadership might do--or say--if she kept putting them off? She took a deep breath to brace herself for the inevitable onslaught of nonsense.
"Ready?" she asked SAM.
Ready .
"I don't know what these idiots want, but if I pass out from screaming at them, don't revive me. I want to make a point."
Understood, though I suggest a more diplomatic approach.
As it turned out, Fiona didn't have to scream. All things considered, it went rather well. But meeting with politicians was the absolute last thing Fiona wanted to do at the moment. Addison's stupid voice felt like an electric toothbrush in her ear, her fingers itched to punch Tann despite the lingering aches and pains, and when Kesh brought up Morda, Fiona nearly suggested the cranky krogan as ambassador out of sheer spite.
When she told them to just listen to Moshae Sjefa and fuck off already, at least they had the decency to do just that. Kesh lingered for a bit, giving Fiona a worried look.
"Drack said you were tough for a human," said Kesh. "Hang in there, Pathfinder."
"Thanks." Despite herself, Fiona grinned. Quite the compliment coming from a krogan. "I think I'll just crawl into a hole and hibernate."
"Not for too long. You have a lot to celebrate, and Drack isn't getting any younger waiting at the bar."
Fiona did not want to celebrate. She wanted to slink back into Dad's room, or SAM node. But Scott was still asleep, and his ordeal had been as bad as hers. SAM node was sealed for security updates and repairs. Left without options, Fiona poked her head out into the Atrium and immediately regretted her life choices.
Too bright. Too many people. Much too loud. Why couldn't everyone celebrate more gently?
"Hey, SAM," she whispered, an idea popping into her head. "Cloak me so I can reach the Tempest without getting accosted?"
The Tempest is currently docked for repairs. There will be some maintenance staff aboard.
"I don't care. I just want to lie down in my own bed."
Without your armor's power source, I cannot maintain the full duration of tactical cloak. Move quickly if you wish to avoid attention.
So she power-walked. Invisibly. Across the Atrium, dodging around people in every direction. It was a stupid idea, but luck was on her side for a change, because no one noticed the invisible girl hurrying by as fast as she could. A few people must have heard her, but there was so much ambient chatter that she made it all the way to the Tempest's airlock before her cloak dissipated. SAM was just bypassing the dock security when she heard familiar footsteps behind her.
"Ah, my darling one!"
Fiona's ears rang in protest. "Jaal, your affections are so loud sometimes," she complained, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the airlock.
She felt Jaal chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Yours can be too, right?" Despite her general discomfort, she smiled and leaned back into his embrace, her eyes drifting shut. He smelled fresh and floral, like the gardens on Aya. Well...one particular garden on Aya, and the best day of her life. She could still feel the sunlight on her face, mist coating her skin, and god, the hunger and adoration in Jaal's eyes...
His lips brushed her cheek. "I think you're blushing."
Another stab of pain went through her temple when he laughed right by her ear, jolting her out of her pleasant daydream. Her body was just not cooperating. She squirmed free of him, looking up just in time to see Jaal's goofy smile fade into a look of concern.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm just--dying feels like crap, you know? Like the worst hangover in the galaxy. Lexi says I’ll be good within a week, though.”
Jaal frowned. "But right now, you are in pain." He ran his thumb over her cheek, carefully studying her face. "Darling one, why didn't you say something?"
"Everyone else is celebrating." The airlock slid open behind them as SAM finished his hack. "I figured I'd sneak off instead of being a party pooper."
His frown deepened. “I’m not sure I want to know, but what is...a party pooper?”
She had to snicker at the disgusted look on his face. “It’s not literal. It just means someone who ruins everyone else’s fun by being miserable. I...didn’t want to do that.”
Jaal, being Jaal, didn't give one damn about her feeble excuse. Instead, he took both her hands in his, blue eyes wide and pleading.
"Taoshay , I adore your strength and your fierce spirit. But please, don't hide your pain from me. Let me see. Let me help."
Now she really was blushing. Little gestures like this made her heart flutter, every damn time. It was second nature to Jaal, but it was still new and precious to her. That said, she honestly couldn't think of anything for him to do. Biology--and Lexi's cocktail of healing agents--needed time to take their course.
She gave him an apologetic smile. "I just need quiet. And rest. I won't be very interesting company."
Jaal leaned in close, shielding her from any curious eyes in the Atrium. "I don't care," he said. "I'm coming with you."
Without any warning, he gently picked her up and carried her aboard the Tempest, as effortlessly as if she were made of paper. Fiona yelped in surprise, but the airlock closed behind them before anybody else could come investigate. She could hear machinery faintly buzzing along the outside of the hull. For now, it didn't seem like anybody was aboard the ship itself. She closed her eyes and turned her face into the soft fabric of Jaal's rofjinn, counting his heartbeats.
He took the elevator down to the lower deck, keeping his steps measured and steady. "Do you need any food?" he asked when they passed the galley. "Water?"
She shook her head. "Maybe later."
"Darling one, I can't hear you with your face buried in my clothes."
Fiona giggled, leaning her head back so she could look up at him. "Sorry. I said later. By the way, you look very dashing from this perspective."
"Of course I do." His eyes lit up, and he also started to laugh, more softly than before. "I am rescuing you from your own victory party."
They were both still grinning like idiots when they finally reached Fiona's quarters. Jaal had been in here a few times before, but never for long. Only movie night and a few other lovely evenings, stolen from the chaos that had led them to Meridian. Jaal slowly lowered her onto the bed. When he reached down to help her take her boots off, she caught his wrist.
"I'm not an invalid," she said. It sounded petulant, even to her, but she couldn't help it. She hated feeling this useless. Mom used to say that she and Dad were both terrible patients.
Jaal made a soft grumbling noise, one that she recognized as exasperation. " Gosan yav daar . Will you sleep or struggle with your clothing?"
He had a point, and Fiona didn't have it in her to argue. "Ugh. Fine. You win." She sunk back into the blankets and let go of his hand.
Jaal had undressed her before. But this time, all the minute details shifted imperceptibly into something completely different. He never took his eyes off her face, watching for any sign of discomfort or pain. His hands moved by touch and memory alone, feeling for the clasps on her jacket. The laces on her boots. The knot in her scarf. There was no urgency, no longing, no sudden shock of discovery. Just warmth, and oh-so-gentle pressure.
"Sit up," he said, supporting her back as she did so. He helped her shrug out of the sleeves, carefully folded up her jacket and scarf, and set them aside. "Are you alright?"
Fiona nodded. Any coherent speech had fled again, as it so often did with Jaal. So she just watched him, and drowned in those warm, worried eyes. With anybody else, she would have said something to deflect that concern. But not with Jaal. Not with this beautiful, strange, wonderful man who made even her bad days worthwhile. Some of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he smiled a little and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.
It started as a soft hum, radiating out from the spot where their skin touched. Fiona gasped, startled, then melted into a sigh of relief as Jaal's bioelectricity washed over her temples and down the base of her neck. The gentle hum waxed and waned, easing away her headache's sharp edges with each slow breath from Jaal. He lingered like that for a few moments, a pleased smile spreading across his face.
"I thought that might work." He kissed the very tip of her nose before pulling back from her. "I have some more ideas for later."
"Oh?" Fiona raised one eyebrow suggestively, then remembered that particular gesture never translated well. "Why not now?"
Jaal smiled and shook his head. "Because that is not what you need right now." He slowly lifted her legs to remove her pants, leaving her only in the loose T-shirt and little shorts that she'd slept in. "Are you cold?" he asked, moving the neatly folded pile of clothes to her dresser.
"No. But...stay with me?"
She felt a little stupid for even asking when Jaal's whole face broke into a brilliant smile. He shrugged off his rofjinn, draped it over her, and propped her other pillow up against the headboard. Human mattresses weren't really made for angara, with their broader shoulders and alien legs; she'd have to invent a solution for that, and soon. For now, Jaal eased into a sitting position with the extra pillow at his back. Fiona snuggled up next to him, her head resting on his thigh.
Through the windows, the interior of Meridian stretched over the Tempest in an endless arc. A boundless mystery teeming with potential--and the ugly scar that traced Hyperion's crash. She could just make out the silhouettes of Remnant, already repairing the damage from the battle. No medical instruments. No drugs to induce sleep. Just Jaal's slow and even breathing.
"Jaal?" she mumbled before her eyes closed.
"Yes?"
"You're the best. Thanks."
She missed the look of relief and satisfaction on his face, and the way his eyes softened as he watched her drift into sleep. Jaal waited until her breathing was deep and even, lips parted, eyelashes fluttering in some unknowable dream. Then he drew the rofjinn more tightly around her and brought up elcor Hamlet on his omnitool to pass the time.
"Deep introspection: Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused..."