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forlornmelody · 4 years

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Take Your Girlfriend To Work Day

Rating: E (it’s smut with a little bit of plot thrown in)

Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda

Ship: Sara Ryder/Suvi Anwar

Summary: Sara Ryder has Concerns™ about taking Suvi with her on a mission. But she's always wanted to show her the badlands of Kadara. What could go wrong?

Linkage: clicky

Note: Written for FallingOverSideways over at @spectre-requisitions-exchange. Now that reveals have happened, I can finally share this all with you!

-*-*-*

Sara would give Suvi the entire galaxy right now. The way she stretches across the tangled sheets, the light of a distant sun making her hair glow like fire. How the light glistens on her sated body, and catches in her eyes like the pools on Kadara. It’s probably why Sara sticks her foot in her mouth while her breaths are still ragged.

“I wish you had been there with me.”

Suvi’s smile vanishes and Sara feels it like a pain in her gut. “Sorry?”

Shit. “I’m not mad.” Sara swallows, pushing an errant lock out of Suvi’s eyes. “It just would’ve been nice to have you on Kadara with me, before the vaults went online.”

“When the water was toxic with sulfuric acid?” Sufi’s brow wrinkles like it did when she poured over the Scourge data, looking for solutions to a big-ass problem.

Just keep digging your grave and lie in it, Sara. “I mean. I loved the look on your face when you looked over the data I gathered.” Sara traces the line of Suvi’s swollen lips, smug knowing their romp made them that way. “It would have been even better for you to see it in person.”

Suvi’s lips twist as she bites the inside of them in thought. “I’m sure there’s still useful data for us. Maybe we could go together next time?”

“I would love that!” Sara rolls them so that her hands are braced on either side of Suvi’s pillow, and she peppers her face with kisses, imagining them swimming together in a hot spring, or a cold one, with bikinis on, or not. Drying off on a ridiculously large beach towel and licking that now potable water right off her--

“You’re going tomorrow, right? Maybe I could come with you.”

Sara’s lips freeze on the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, and Suvi giggles at the slack-jawed expression she gives her. “Tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you going to Ditaeon to talk with Tate about trade?”

“...Yes.” Christmas Tate’s not what sets the Pathfinder's heart racing. It’s not his colony, either. It’s all the mayhem around it. Sara can all too easily imagine an eiroch crushing her girlfriend against a boulder or rylkor whipping her off a cliff with its tail. She needs to find a reason for Suvi to stay behind. Maybe she needs more arms training? Or they could wait until they fit her with some armor? Watch some training vids?

“Why don’t I go with you?” Suvi trails her fingertips down Sara’s spine, and suddenly she’s spineless.

“Sure!” Sara says brightly. This is a bad idea, isn’t it?

----

Turns out Cora’s not much different in height or build than Suvi, so the human commando loans her a set of armor, and a manual on how to care for it. Suvi walks around in it stiffly, and Sara would find it comical were it not for how the components accentuate some of Suvi’s best features. As much as she shouldn’t, not right now, Sara can’t help but imagine removing it piece by piece as she kisses her senseless.

“Worried about me, Ryder?” Suvi says as they make their landing.

The airlock disengages, and Sara looks around for any sign of danger. “Just don’t lick any rocks,” she says wryly.

“But--”

“No, Suvi.” Both her and Vetra say it together.

“Fiiine.”

-----

Suvi loves Kadara. Or maybe she loves being on the ground for a change. Either way, Dr. Suvi Anwar sits on her knees, scanning a small rock, and Sara Ryder can’t look away. The sun catches in Suvi’s flame-colored hair, making Ryder wish she had brought her here sooner. She aches at the soft smile on her face, the warm glow in her blue eyes. Ryder’s in the middle of pulling out her omni tool to take a picture when--

Sara. There are weapons warming up behind you. It appears they are aiming for you, Vetra Nix, and Dr. Anwar. I suggest--

“Got it, Sam.” Sara Ryder says nothing to Suvi, only dropping her in a tackle and ruining the picture-perfect moment. Actually, whatever exiles who were shooting at them ruined the moment, and the thought makes Sara’s blood boil.

Suvi squeaks from underneath her, but she doesn’t protest, especially after the first rounds hit the rocks behind them, and their shields shimmer with the ricochets. “Pathfinder?” she whispers cautiously.

“Exiles,” Sara growls under her breath. This is not how she pictured pinning Suvi on Kadara.

“I thought--”

“They’re still around. Still wanting to shoot us, apparently.” Sara shoves Suvi behind a bolder, and squats next to her, pulling out her pistol, and deploying her combat drone. It dashes over, firing beams at their assailants, the cool evening air warming in its wake.

Vetra looks at Sara sideways. “Really, Ryder? A drone?”

“What? Peebee showed me how to use it last night.”

Suvi glances between them, her eyes widening. “Sara?”

“It’ll be fiiiine.” On cue, the drone crumbles to the ground. Peebee will kill her later. “Well, shit.”

“We’re doomed.” Vetra sighs, powering up her assault rifle.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Sara switches to her shotgun, firing off shots while her biotics cool down.

Suvi giggles, and Vetra groans. “At least one of us is having a good time.”

Ryder really shouldn’t have brought Suvi with them. A little skirmish like this rarely fazes her anymore--more like target practice than a fight worth worrying about. Waste of ammo, really. But her heart thuds in her chest and her neck and shoulders tighten up at the thought of a bullet hitting the scientist next to her. Suvi’s so gentle, and kind. She’s not made for violence like this. Sweat gathers beneath Sara’s hard suit and her under armor, and itches around her joints. Her arm aches and her temples start to throb. Just a little bit longer---

There.

One exile remains, a sharpshooter with a sniper rifle that tries to pick them off like drops of water torture. Ryder ducks back behind their bolder, counting the seconds between shots. One Andromeda...Two Andromeda...Three--

Sara Ryder charges full force into her enemy, smashing him with a nova that sends his innards flying every which way. Turning with an adrenaline-fueled, shit-eating grin on her face, Sara looks at the boulder, craning to see the look on Suvi’s face. “Not bad, huh?”

“RYDER! MOVE!”

The ground rumbles beneath Sara’s feet, throwing her off balance. Enemy Krogan.

“Shit!” Ryder screams as the berserker hauls her up in the air. Blood rushing to her head, Sara looks down at the battered Krogan growling up at her. “I thought I put you down already.”

“RAAAAH.”

“Shit’s right! I’m out of ammo.” Vetra glowers, letting out a litany of Turian words SAM can’t translate.

Don’t panic. Just grab your pistol and--One problem. It must have fell from her holster when she left the ground. The Krogan swings her back like a wet towel.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

Her biotics won’t fire--still cooling down. Ryder’s neck and temples still flare with heat.

Sorry, Suvi. I--

A shot rings out, and Ryder sucks in a breath, bracing for a bullet wound.

The Krogan drops her, and Sara rolls out before his body falls on top of her. What the hell??

Her eyes meet “SUVI??”

Nudging the Krogan’s body with her toe, Suvi blows the steam off the barrel of her pistol, and holsters it. She glances down at Ryder, a shy smile on her face. “You alright, Sara?” Suvi reaches out with her hand to help her up.

“Damn, Anwar. Didn’t know you had it in you.” Vetra comes out from behind the boulder, brushing herself off.

Sara doesn’t take her hand, too busy doing the math in her head. “Who taught you how to shoot?”

“Drack. He took me out on Elaaden. Said it would help my skills as a geologist if I learned how to shoot rocks.”

“Of course he did.” Ryder groans as she stands, checking herself for injuries. Her shoulder throbs from being yanked around like a rag doll, but other than that. “Anything I should see Lexi about, SAM?”

My scans indicate nothing but some swelling and inflammation. Though a visit would--

“I’ll see her later, SAM.” Sara has an idea. “Hey, Vetra. I think the Nomad needs an oil change.” She walks over, rummaging through the storage compartment for a very conspicuous picnic basket.

“The Nomad doesn’t even...oh. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.” Turians don’t roll their eyes, but the way her mandibles twitch, Ryder bets Vetra would be right now if she did. Swinging into the driver’s seat, she starts the engine, and Sara scrambles to get the storage compartment shut in time.

“Catch ya later!”

-----

“Do you ever miss them?” Their picnic long over, Sara and Suvi stretch out on the blanket, watching the sun set.

“My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” Suvi stares out across the lake, and Sara gets the feeling she’s not watching the clouds change color.

“How did you find the strength to leave them?”

Suvi says nothing, and Sara wonders if she went too far as she listens to birds call in her silence. When she finally does speak Sara strains to hear her over the lap of the shoreline. “I couldn’t stay behind when there was a whole galaxy out there to explore.” She looks at Ryder, sorrowful, but without regret in her eyes. “I was miserable when I considered staying behind. My parents could tell. I was making them miserable with me.” A small laugh escapes her mouth. “It was them who told me to go. Told me they’d miss me if I left, but they’d miss me even more if I stayed with them.” Her smile slips away, and Sara would give anything to bring it back.

Think, Ryder, think. “Nice shooting earlier. You saved my life.” Sara runs her fingers down Suvi’s cheek, holding her breath as she waits for her face to change.

The smile doesn’t come back. Suvi pulls away, looking off towards Kadara Port. “Sara, I don’t think violence suits me.”

Sara drops her hand. “Oh.”

Suvi immediately draws it back to her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire what you do--the risks you take, the hard decisions you make.” She closes her eyes, taking a settling breath. “But I’d rather make my hard decisions in a lab, not with a gun.”

“I understand.”

Biting her lip, Suvi dares to search her eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. We’re different. I’m better out in the field kicking ass, and you’re better in the lab…. doing...sciency stuff.”

Suvi’s laugh spills from her mouth like a bubbling brook. “Ryder.”

“I mean it.” Sara takes her chin. “I don’t want you to change who you are just to please me.” She’s already nose to nose with her before Suvi realizes she’s being kissed. And Sara wouldn’t have it any other way.

While Suvi’s usually slow to kiss back, when she does, she makes up for lost time, always. She presses in, already reaching for Sara’s hair tie, pulling her hair out of that perky ponytail and winding her fingers through her hair. The motion pulls Sara closer, tighter against her mouth and she can’t help but part Suvi’s lips with her tongue, grabbing the collar of her uniform in her fist, and holding her close.

Their hands and mouths move like binary stars, so close, but never close enough. Sara groans in frustration as her fingers roam across Suvi’s lab coat, searching for that elusive zipper. Suvi giggles, taking her hand and guiding the zipper down with her, her eyes dark with want. As the uniform falls from Suvi’s shoulders, Sara traces her tongue across her now bare skin, smiling at her goosebumps and drinking in her sharp breaths. Each freckle pattern forms new constellations, and Sara writes the racy mythologies to go with them.

In Suvi’s sighs and goose-bumped skin, Sara finds a paradise better than the Initiative could have ever hoped for. She unhooks her bra, and finds the path between her breaths, scanning the terrain with her eyes and making contact with her hands. Suvi arches into her touch, and Sara smiles against her skin. “You mean the world to me, you know that?”

Suvi opens her mouth, but her sweet nothing is lost in her moan as Sara’s lips close around her tit. She should really take her time. They have little to interrupt them here, with the Tempest far away and Sam scanning the perimeter for trouble. But it’s been days since Sara had the chance to make love to the center of her universe, and so she dives headfirst into the gravity well, pulling the rest of Suvi’s uniform down with her.

“I’ve missed you,” Sara whispers, trailing her lips down Suvi’s stomach.

“Ryder. You see me every day.”

“Not the same thing, and you know it.” Sara gives her a pointed look, and she can’t help but smile at Suvi’s parted lips. She sits up, running her fingertips up and down Suvi’s thighs, outside and inside, gently nudging them apart.

Suvi sucks in her breath, and Sara pats her skin as she leans down. “Breathe, Suvi. I swear the air here is safe.”

“Shh, you.” Suvi chuckles.

Sara breathes in the scent of her pubis mons, grinning wickedly. “Make me.”

Suvi’s eyes widen, and for a moment Sara wonders if she should apologize, but then Suvi’s fingers grip her by her ponytail, pressing her between her legs and it is glorious. Holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiiit. She never took Suvi for a dominant one, but Sara definitely want to explore more of this side of her. Tasting her, Sara gives her folds those nice long licks that Suvi loves so much. Her pushup routine comes in handy as her lover writhes beneath her. Just as Suvi starts to moan louder, Sara pulls back to wet her finger.

“Is this too much?” Suvi asks breathlessly.

Her own mouth feels dry, and Sara reaches over to gulp some water from her cannister. “Not at all. Keep going.” She blushes at her own words.

Suvi pushes her hands away, sitting up. Sara blinks, watching her go. “Actually, I have new experiment I want to run by you.” Grabbing Sara’s shoulders, Suvi presses her onto her back.

Laughing, Sara replies. “Oh? What’s your hypothesis?”

“That you’ll love me sitting on your face.” Suvi’s cheeks redden as much as her hair.

“Mm, that’s hard to quantify.” Sara smudges her lips together playfully. “But we can try it.”

Suvi crawls over her, and Sara groans as her scent overwhelms her senses. She whispers her name into her folds, sliding one finger, then two into her warmth. Gasping, Suvi grinds against her, gripping the top of her head. Sara fingers faster and harder, sucking on her clit until Suvi’s nails dig into her scalp and she calls out her name.

The sun’s far too bright when Suvi rolls off her. “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Sara swears breathlessly.

“Mmhm.” Suvi kisses her sloppily, running her hand down Sara’s side. “And what are...mm... our findings?

Sara laughs into the crook of her neck. “I think your hypothesis may be right. But further tests are needed.”

“Mm.” Suvi presses a finger to her lips, looking up at the clouds as if the answer might be found there. “Perhaps we should increase our sample size?”

That notion jolts Sara off her back. “You mean like a threesome?”

“No!” Suvi laughs so loudly Sara swears the whole valley can hear them. “I meant you. Sitting on mine.”

“Oh.” Sara stretches. “Maybe next time.” She kisses the pout right off Suvi’s lips. “Right now, I want to kiss you while you…” She grasps Suvi’s hand, guiding it between her legs. “While you…. demonstrate your expertise on the subject.”

“Sara!” Suvi shakes her head in mock humility. “I’m hardly an expert.”

Sara leans over, stealing another heated kiss. “Then maybe you should…” She can’t help her laugh. “....do a more in-depth study?” Their laughs sink into moans as Suvi trace and probes between Sara’s legs, putting just the right amount of pressure to make her beg.

Suvi grins against her mouth, teasing her long and light, until Sara’s gripping her so hard, she swears she’ll leave bruises. Thank the stars Suvi wears long sleeves. “You like it rough, Sara?”

“Yes, please. Please.”

Suvi’s teeth graze the skin of her neck in reply, hooking her fingers inside her and beckoning her to come undone.

Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours later, when Sara’s always pushing Suvi’s bangs out of her eyes just to watch them fall again. “Y’know. I definitely learned something today.”

“What’s that?”

“I should bring you planetside more often.”

#mass effect andromeda #suvi x ryder #suvi anwar #sara ryder #melody writes #lemon #spec recs 2020

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amassingeffect · 6 years

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Ficlet Prompt Friday - Limits - mReyder

@trajektoria: could you write me a fic in which Scott in done with his job and Reyes helps him unwind?

Scott’s done his job a little too well and Reyes drives home an important lesson.

Warnings: post-Meridian (no spoilers)

Scott was officially done with today. Especially since it had actually started 72 hours ago. They were chasing down some leads on potential new homeworlds. Something about some of the settlers on Kadara wanting to strike out fresh and give Kadara back to the angara.

Keema had sent Reyes along in some official capacity to help the Pathfinder “ascertain the viability of planetary locales for both human and angaran suitability”. Scott was 99% sure Keema sent Reyes along so they would have some time, relatively undisturbed. And maybe to get Reyes out of her proverbial hair for a little while.

And it had been going well until they received an emergency distress signal and had to divert all the way to the Shojaon system. It was way worse when they got there and arrived at Pas-48. Kallo and Suvi’s initial scans showed that the kett had been busy building what looked like another facility, similiar in size to the one on Voeld. SAM estimated the structure to be about 45% complete. The distress signal had been sent by a small human-angaran mining settlement. A small settlement that had been captured.

Not on Scott’s damn watch. And hadn’t that been a fun debrief, with Scott asking Reyes to stay behind to ensure their extraction. Because with something like this, going in with Resistance tactics was the best bet. Small strike teams, quick and quiet and most importantly, gone before the kett put two and two together.

There had been two teams, with Scott, Jaal and Cora. Liam was running the other with Drack and a few other Resistance members who would meet them onsite.

Reyes, Vetra and Peebee would be the cavalry.

All Reyes had done was nod, but from the way his mouth tightened and he looked at Scott, he wasn’t pleased in the slightest. When Scott had announced it would take them at least 24 hours to get the job done, Reyes’ had narrowed his gaze but remained silent. Really not pleased then.

After that it was a flurry of prep, with them deploying soon after they arrived. No sense in losing the element of surprise and letting the kett bring in more reinforcements. Scott barely had time to take in the gorgeous auroras that filled the sky before he was fighting. The comms alternated between dead silence and the wild chatter that made battle.

It also took longer than a day. The kett really were trying to dig in and Scott would be damned if they set up another wretched exaltation facility. Anything to see that didn’t happen and to rub one in the Primus’ face.

SAM had given him warnings, that he needed to eat and rest, at least for a bit. All Scott had done was ask SAM to override things as safely as possible until the mission was done.

Thirty-six hours later, it ended with them extracting all the captured people and blowing the shit out of the half-built facility. It was like Voeld all over again but with the best of both things. The shuttle ride back had been congratulatory and they all looked tired as shit but exuding pride and sheer fucking victory. As soon as they set foot on the Tempest, SAM quietly asked,

“I recommend stopping by the galley for food and hydration before I release control.” SAM sounded like he was chiding Scott. “I believe Mr Vidal has enough painkillers on hand.”

Painkillers? Scott frowned a bit as he did as SAM asked. He had been living off damned biotic bars for the duration of the mission, something kinda real would be nice. As soon as he was in his quarters, he could see Reyes getting up from the couch to approach him.

“Please put your things down Scott.” SAM requested.

“I’ll be fine.” Scott started walking to Reyes.

“Very well. Engaging privacy mode and releasing now.”

Okay, that was new and… holy shit walking was suddenly too much. Everything but breathing was hard. He stopped moving, just trying to take stock. His legs felt worse than jello and the pronounced throb in the soles of his feet made walking seem impossible. As to his arms, he wasn’t entirely sure how he was still holding anything. Scott knew if he moved a single muscle, it would end very badly. Reyes moved quick now, taking things from Scott and dumping them on the coffee table before coming back and tucking himself under Scott’s arm and taking him firmly by the waist to help him to the chair.

“So, how brilliant was that idea of yours?”

The disapproval coming from Reyes was at official Alec Ryder levels. Awesome. Scott groaned, “SAM told you.” Hell, talking was legitimately the least painful thing right now. Walking these last few steps was beyond murderous.

“He requested I meet you in your quarters with a sufficient amount of painkillers to assist you after the fight. Of all the stupid…” Reyes just broke off into a flurry of agitated Spanish as he set Scott down and eased him into the chair.

All Scott could do was watch as Reyes carefully stripped him out of his armour, right down to his underwear. The armour and undersuit was neatly stacked off to the side to be dealt with later and there was even a small tub of water. Not that he liked it when his feet went in a few seconds later.

“Fuck, it’s freezing cold.” He was too tired to even pull his feet out.

“It’ll help your feet. Here.” Reyes popped two pills in his mouth and held the glass of water for him to drink from. “This is probably the stupidest thing I have seen you do. You keep pushing yourself too far.”

Scott managed a lopsided grin. “That’s me, King of Stupid Decisions.”

“That was not a compliment.” Reyes gave him a flat stare. “You should have taken more backup with you. And you definitely shouldn’t have pushed yourself so hard.”

Reyes sat beside him, picking up his hand and studying it for a moment before he started massaging the palm. Scott was honestly gonna say something. He could hear the worry in Reyes’ voice, see it in how he fretted and chided him. But all that came from his mouth was the most indecent moan ever because how were his hands that sore and Reyes just needed to keep working that magic.

When he finally worked up enough energy to lift his head and look at Reyes, there was a small smile on the other man’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Scott apologized. “C’mere. Your stupid boyfriend pushed himself too hard and can’t really move to give you a kiss.”

Reyes clicked his tongue in disapproval before he leaned in pressed a soft kiss to Scott’s mouth. Scott’s hand was forgotten in lieu of soft, feather-light kisses that left Scott wishing he had enough energy to just drag Reyes fully on top of him. When Reyes finally broke off, he nuzzled at Scott’s face with a chuckle.

“You should know,” he murmured. “Dr T’Perro is waiting to yell at you as well.”

Scott groaned, letting his head fall forward enough to rest against Reyes’. “No thank you, I’d rather have you raking me over the coals.”

“That’s a new one.”

“I can’t kiss and make up with Lexi.” Scott’s arm damned near screamed in protest as he moved it, cupping the back of Reyes head. “If I let you thoroughly bitch me out, maybe you’ll give me a full body massage?”

“So hopeful.” Reyes tutted. “What I had planned required full use of your limbs.”

“Such as?” Scott’s stomach clenched in anticipation.

All Reyes did was give Scott a positively filthy kiss, full of tongue and heavy breathing like he wanted to possess Scott’s very soul. But then he drew back, giving a soft kiss to the tip of Scott’s nose before he went back to massaging Scott’s hand like he hadn’t stolen the breath from Scott’s lungs.

“Later, querido.” Reyes gave him a look. “This is what you need now, not me eating you out and then making making you ride me.”

Jesus Christ… “I’d much rather that. Very much. So much more.”

Reyes raised a brow as he paused in his hand massage. “Stand up, then. Without SAM’s help.”

The one time Scott needed his body to listen, because the spirit was so damn willing. But his body just stayed in the chair, totally not listening or even thinking of co-operating. Reyes chuckled as he resumed the hand massage as Scott whined in displeasure.

“Then maybe this will be a valuable lesson.”

“That’s cruel, Reyes.”

“Oh I don’t know. Should get the lesson across nicely, I think.”

“So damn cruel.” Scott pouted.

“Love you too.” Reyes quipped back with a smile.

#mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #ficlet prompt friday #mryder #reyes #reyes vidal #mreyder #fanfic #writing #trajektoria

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poweredbycoffeeandwine · 6 years

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All I See Are Stars

Hello Lovelies!!! I wrote this based on some in game dialogue. I wasn’t irrationally jealous....trust me. It was all Camille. ;-) So here are these dorks, the same two from my Kissing Day Fics (here) and (here), but pre-relationship because that’s my jam. Hope you enjoy this little bit of silliness.

Camille Ryder x Liam Kosta - Mass Effect Andromeda - Pre-Relationship

"I've heard about HUS-T1."

"Good things I hope?"

"Impossible things. And about "goddamn Hammond."

"He made up for everything twice over."

"He'd have to. So what made you join? I bet you were very good at responding."

Camille couldn't help how hard her eyes rolled; her surprise that they hadn't detached was genuine. At least she managed to hold back a loud and unladylike snort. She seriously didn't need everyone in Nexus Security thinking she'd lost her mind. Standing at the console reviewing strike team missions was absolutely the reason she was here. It had nothing to do with the fake-blonde standing scant inches away from Kosta,laughing at his jokes, and reaching out to touch his forearm or bicep. She certainly hadn't been glancing over her shoulder checking to see the distance between them shrink. Camille was positive Kosta hadn't budged and Security Guard Barbie made all of the advances. Not that that should make any difference.

"Ugh. Get a grip," she mumbled to herself. She shook her head attempting to fight the unpleasant turn her thoughts had taken. Sleep, that was the problem; she needed to get more than a handful of hours in between missions. Obviously that is why she had turned into a shrew, hating a woman she knew nothing about. Normally levelheaded, she couldn't pin down why the conversation behind her was so distracting. She shouldn’t begrudge Kosta searching for companionship on the station. Goodness knows they were always so busy once they departed. Everyone on the team had ways of blowing steam. Gil had poker, Vetra worked her contacts to purchase everything she thought might come in handy, Peebee had her weird alien tech, maybe Kosta just needed a friend. An attractive woman friend, willing to listen to his every word with baited breath.

Camille had hoped she would be able to catch him and convince him to grab something to eat. Maybe even spend some time together not saving the galaxy. Just be regular people. However, seeing him with another woman had given her pause. She wasn’t about to interrupt if he was hoping to ask the Nexus employee out. They were both in security, and obviously had a lot in common. She was just a researcher, a self proclaimed nerd without exciting tales to tell. Ryder stared at the screen, planning the load-out and mission parameters for the teams Kandros had permitted her to use in the fight against the Kett. Nothing made sense. What's worse was that deep down she knew that she could do this from the comfort of the Tempest in her comfy clothes that nobody judged her for wearing.

Another high nasal laugh followed by Kosta's own rich, deep one, had her shaking. Maybe she could slink off without him noticing she was there. Of course, instead of simply leaving as quietly as she came, she chanced a glance at him only to make eye contact. He gave her a warm smile and waved her over. She had no choice now, it was wave and leave, possibly leaving him to feel slighted, or join the pair for a brief conversation and try not to make a fool of herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind that rational part of her was screaming for her to stop. For some reason she just couldn’t seem to heed the sound advice. "Hey Liam, we need to go. You ready to head out?" The look on his face spoke volumes. Did her voice always sound so breathless? Did she ever call him by his first name aloud?

Lips slightly parted, Liam continued to stare at her. "Yeah, yeah. Course Pathfinder. Following you?"

"Um..yes, well if you have things to wrap up," her voice wavered a bit, "you don't have to come with me. We'll ship out in an hour. So... right." She stalked away not quite understanding what just happened. There was no reason at all for that reaction. Her twin, Scott, was forever teasing her for being awkward, and right now was the first time his medically induced coma was a blessing. She would have never heard the end of it if he had been around to witness that mess.

She could hear Kosta's loud footfall catching up to her. He could never claim stealth; something she teased him about endlessly. Camille struggled not to pick up the pace. “Just be normal, just be normal,” she chanted under her breath. They boarded the tram together. Was it always this small? "Pathfinder. Ryder. Sorry, my mistake," Liam shrugged. "Could've sworn you said we had the day. Just checking in. Building more bridges. All of that."

Ryder's face flushed, she felt like squirming. She had given the crew the day. Tann had called her to his office, and she had wanted to check in with Kesh, but she saw Liam from a distance and her feet had taken her to him. The rest of her team wouldn't be expected until the next morning. Clearing her throat she replied, "I got an urgent message from Bradley on Padromos. We're needed to investigate a situation." As the doors to the docking station slid open slowly, she turned sideways to squeeze out.

Not paying attention to her impatience he nearly shouted, "What! We better get a move on. Need me to round up the crew?" Camille winced. She really should have supplied a different excuse. People were going to take a situation on Eos seriously. The outpost was new, and fragile at the moment. Nobody expected the scientists she stationed there to last long considering the first two failed attempts to settle the planet. Not to mention Suvi and Kallo never received a similar message and would be able to call her bluff the second they crossed the threshold.

"No!" She squeaked. "I've already taken care of it. Didn't send you a message since you were nearby. Figured I would grab you and explain along the way." That sounded valid, right?

"Grab me, huh?" Liam smirked. "If you wanted me alone, you could've asked." He winked at her. Actually winked! She couldn't fight the blush spreading across her cheeks. She usually accepted his rapid adjustment from business to fun, but when she was the focus of his sass she became tongue tied. Ryder kept her rapid pace, practically running past those she would normally stop to touch base with. If only she had kept her cool. That woman just upset her. Throwing herself at Kosta like that. What did he have to do to get her to respect his personal space? All of that touching! The fluttering in her stomach stopped her dead in her tracks. Liam slammed into her from behind not expecting the sudden halt in momentum

They sprawled to the floor, limbs tangling as he attempted to swap their bodies positions. The air left her lungs in a hurry, tears in her eyes. "Shit, Cami. Ugh, Ryder. Pathfinder, are you ok?" Kosta lifted her from the floor, one hand on her waist the other swiping at invisible dirt, his eyes scanning for injuries. Camille stared at him, voiceless. The butterflies,the irrational and unjustified annoyance at a woman she didn't know, and the husky octave her voice took when she asked him to leave with her. She hadn't acted this way since she was a teenager with her first crush. She was jealous. Oh, no. Did he know? Did everyone know? Was she that transparent? "Andromeda to Pathfinder. You there? Shit, did I give you a concussion? I'm not explaining this to Lexi, Liam rambled, gripping her carefully around the arm, and pulling her towards the Tempest his other arm encircling around her back. "Don't worry. I've got you. We'll get you looked at proper."

"Yeah, it's ok. Just clumsy. You know. We can't tell Lexi. Then there will have to be and exam, and reports to be filed. Let's just keep this to ourselves," Ryder suggested, trying to ignore the pointed look he gave. Her skin burned where his hands were touching her. Skin to skin contact didn't do that, she just needed to get herself under control. She wasn't an angsty teen, she was technically over 600 years old. Her embarrassment was compounded by the crowd that had collected. Nexus employees hovering around them attempting to assist their only Pathfinder. Others gawking or attempting to hide laughter. If she wasn't trying to be a professional she would definitely facepalm or cry. "Nothing to see here. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern." She waved people off, hoping they would take the hint and get back to work. "Kosta, get your gear ready and make sure the Nomad is prepped. I'll get the rest of the team gathered."

He blinked and after a moment slowly asked, "Thought you said you did that already?" He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned, waiting for a response.

"I, ugh, yeah. I did. I meant...I was...I will wait for them. You know, to get here. Brief them on the development." Camille fought the urge to look down at her feet. Hands clasped behind her back slightly bouncing on her feet.

"Gotcha, no need." Liam smiled and casually tapped her in the arm. "I'll let you get to it." He turned and walked into the Tempest whistling a song as he did so. Ryder rubbed her arm, telling herself she wasn't watching his shapely rear as he departed.

"Seriously, Me. Get it together. Nobody will take the Human Pathfinder seriously if she is swooning." She opened her Omni-tool, and alerted Suvi and Kallo to their situation, then fired off a message to Bradley. What kind of Pathfinder hopes her first settlement is in trouble?

"Pathfinder, I am detecting an elevation of your blood pressure, and would like to ask you a question, if I may," SAM's smooth AI voice broke over her private channel. She jumped, forgetting that he would have been a silent witness to the entire exchange.

"Thank you universe, I needed salt in that particular wound," she muttered. "No, SAM. Not this time. Get back to me when the mortification wears off." Then a terrible thought crossed her mind and she added nervously, "Also, please don't mention this to Liam, or anyone. I just... Is it too much to ask that you just forget this ever happened?" She really wasn't looking forward to explaining to SAM what was amuck with her emotions.

It was certainly nothing she wanted to examine too closely herself. However, now that it was up front-and-center she realized she spent an inordinate amount of time wondering what Liam thought about decisions she made. Hoping it would please him when she helped a civilian in need. How often she found herself seeking him out at night when she couldn't sleep. Her mind full of missing her family, and regrets she could do nothing about. She thought it was because he understood her. He lost more than she had venturing across dark space. He took the risk, knowing his parents would only be alive in his memories, for the sake of adventure. In that moment she felt so foolish, of course she had feelings for Liam. It would be impossible for her to deny developing an attachment to him. How the lilting sound of his voice called to her. How easy it was to smile at the lame jokes he told just to ease tension with the crew.

The night he told her of his family, she was sure they had a moment. Waking up in his arms, safe and protected was something she hadn’t had in a very long time. If she was being honest all of her feelings scared her. Being around him made her giddy and lightheaded, so much she saw stars. He entered a room, and the imaginary orchestra played cliche love songs while she tried not to stare. She realized that she subconsciously fought to keep him at a distance. But, that woman flirting with Liam forced her to see that she wasn’t ready to close the door on whatever was going on between them. But that side of her brain that steered her clear from trouble had her thinking having a crush on a teammate was a terrible idea. Wasn't it?

#female ryder #liam kosta #rydam #mass effect andromeda #me:a fic #mass effect fic #camille ryder #camille x liam #camille ryder x liam kosta #frydam #me: fic #steph did a thing #my writing

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senseandaccountability · 7 years

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Ficlet: Paradise sands

Pairing: Sara Ryder/Suvi Anwar Rating: Mature Words: 1000-ish Summary: Sara forgets how to breathe. I don’t know about you, but I think Saturdays should be smutty Suvi days. Saturday Suvi Smut. This is really random. Sorry about that.

Sara forgets how to breathe. It’s Elaaden’s fault mostly, and the hunt for Archon, and Scott still being in a coma and just everything - She breathes: in and out and in and out, but the air seems stuck in her chest without really reaching her lungs, her heart pops wildly inside and the pounding in her head, those thick hammer blows, almost scare her. “Hey, Ryder. Sara. Slow breaths. Yes, that’s good and now another one.” Suvi is on her knees beside her on the ground and Sara has placed her hands on Suvi’s shoulders. In her lap there’s a bottle of iced water, its surface so cold it aches under her fingertips. Suvi holds it up for her, moves it slowly to Sara’s mouth. “Drink a little.” Sara swallows one sip, two sips, then half the bottle. Her skin boils and throbs. Pathfinder, the temperature is dangerously high but they had been held back by scavengers and remnants and Sara had more or less fallen into the Nomad, head soaring. She tries to tell Suvi about it but Suvi just nods. “It doesn’t matter, Sara. I can read the reports later.” That worried frown again, always that worried frown when they push it too far in Andromeda, when it seems like they’ve outrun their own luck and return to the Tempest in pieces, badly torn up but breathing. Sometimes Sara, wounded pride and untouched confidence, wants to point that out - hey, we’re still breathing don’t panic. “Now let’s take care of you.” Sara nods, too, leaning back on her hands on the bed. They’re in the Pathfinder’s quarters and there’s some kind of noise in the background - music, Sara, don’t be so barbaric - but most of all there’s Suvi, on her knees. “Breathe,” she says while her thumb runs along the waistline of Sara’s pants, tickling her stomach. Sara breathes. Thinks about the waterless desert and the sinkholes and Suvi’s fingers are reaching further, loosening the restrictions around them with surprising ease. She’s always fast and efficient, Sara thinks. Methodical in every way. It touches something inside her, makes her want to undo every analysis, fuck up every method and just - “Breathe,” Suvi reminds her. ”I'm a sweaty mess,” Sara protests vaguely – a protest growing even more vague as Suvi kisses the gentle skin on Sara's side, her tongue against a rib, lips tracing an old tattoo better left unexplained. (Drunken stroke of genius. Misspelled Latin. Story old as time.) ”Oh, I know,” Suvi replies and her voice is muffled, a tremble into Sara's skin. Another kiss, this time on the slight hollow in the rib cage where Sara's stomach ends and her chest begins and Suvi runs her hands underneath her t-shirt, runs them around to rest on her back, fingernails raking softly across the plains and slopes. ”Breathe,” she reminds Sara. ”Uh-huh.” Suvi giggles a little, ghost-breaths trickling down Sara's body. Then her mouth travels down, slow and steady, until it's closing in on the spot where Sara is already impatient, anxious, tangled up in the frustration of everything around them. When Suvi yanks the pants down - finally - Sara raises her body, opening her eyes again because she wants to see it, all of it and fuck, hot wet tongue teasing her as she moans, spreading her legs. When the rhythm picks up, Sara rocks with it, circling her hips to push it along; Suvi pauses, comes up for a proper kiss on the mouth, a kiss on the neck, a bite on the fleshy part of Sara’s upper arm. Sara responds by leaving nail-shaped answers along the small of Suvi’s back. They’re marking each other, bit by bit, day by day. Leaving their pattern in the galaxy that’s trying to throw them out again; they’re hanging on to it for dear life and Sara lets a scream die at the back of her throat when she feels a tongue on her clit. Sara breathes. Thinks about Suvi’s hair, the way it goes damp with sweat when they fuck and how Sara pushes it out of the way; Suvi’s voice, the deeper, rawer parts of it that pleads with her to continue, to never stop, Sara, please; all the impossible ways in which they have twisted themselves together, tangling and untangling, wrapping six hundred years of desire around their own bodies like a shield. . She gasps when Suvi’s hands grab her thighs, mouth harder now, on point and Sara wants to grab hold of Suvi’s hair, but grabs the sheets instead, struggling to remain upright and fails. Fails miserably, even, as the pressure suddenly ceases then stops entirely and Suvi instead comes up to kiss her mouth. “Breathe, Sara.” Sara breathes. Thinks about Suvi’s round breasts resting in Sara’s palms when they’ve fucked, impossibly soft and warm skin spreading out among lines of heart and life and fate; the low chuckle as Sara’s breaths make the hairs on Suvi’s arms bolt upright; the drawn-out shudders and quakes as Suvi sets out on a quest to prove to Sara - scientifically - that there’s no refractory period for women. They kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy and Sara reaches for Suvi, desperate to have her closer, skin against skin; Suvi disappears again, though, her kisses burning a path down towards Sara’s cunt and now there’s a rocking rhythm again, faster pace, the tip of Suvi’s tongue firm and decisive and Sara tilts her head to the side, moaning. “Breathe.” The word is a groan, half-buried and tight; the sound of it feels like fire. Sara breathes and thinks about nothing. “Fuck,” she manages when she gets her voice back. Suvi makes an amused sound, her teeth grazing the softness of Sara’s inner thigh. “Indeed.” When everything in Sara’s body has stopped moving, just for a heartbeat of perfect calm, Suvi climbs up to her on the bed and when they kiss again, they both taste of desert sand and heat and Sara slides a sweaty hand between Suvi’s legs, sucking at her lower lip. “Now,” she mumbles, fingers stroking the already-wet places she’s beginning to know as well as her own. “Let’s see what we can do about you.”

#sara ryder/suvi anwar #suvi anwar #mass effect fanfiction #mea fanfic #My writing

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smartalker · 7 years

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Magpie Bridge [5/10 - Samael]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

Ryder returned from her tryst to confront worst-case walk of shame material.

"Hey sister," Scott said.

"Fuck. FUCK!" Ryder whirled away from her twin, but the Tempest's halls were unhelpfully void of any distractions or potential shields. She turned back to Scott, teeth set. "Fuck," she whispered to herself, for good measure.

"Nice hickey."

She couldn't just keep swearing. Ryder cleared her throat, bracing herself for some old-school twin throw down. She had this. There had been a time (once) when she'd been able to beat her brother's ass into submission. Trying to sound like Keema, Ryder asked, "And just why are you concerning yourself with my hickeys, again?"

Scott dropped some serious stank eye. "God you're annoying. Now that you're finally back from your boy's opium den or whatever he's running—"

"Opium den," Ryder repeated, and laughed shrilly. She tried edging towards the Med-Bay. Maybe there was some lightly bruised body part Lexi urgently needed to examine.

Scott, with freakish speed and probably a dose of telepathy, inserted himself into the middle of her escape route. "The Nexus sent me. Tann's bugging out, says if you don't get someone dragged out and locked up he's going to start a trade embargo or something."

Shit. But also, she totally called that bluff. Like Tann had the balls. Except: Addison was also on the Nexus and Ryder wasn't sure she wanted to deal with that phone call.

She groaned. "You know, finding freaky doped up murder cults isn't as easy as it looks on television. Tell them I need more time! We're making headway but it's not exactly like we're in a position where we can go around interviewing known felons because, oops, everyone on this stupid planet was birthed in the, like, the undead Alcatraz of Hell!"

Scott was doing the thing where he started to look uncomfortably similar to their father. Ryder scrunched her nose, her stomach cramping. She hadn't wanted to fight. She could see the reluctance in Scott's face, the guilt that echoed her own. She could still remember his excitement, the first time they'd hunted outlaws on Eos together. Her brother, who'd known her father a thousand times better than she ever had, he'd said, "Dad would have been proud of you."

Somehow, she didn't feel like the sentiment had survived.

"Sara," Scott insisted, voice slowing and lowering. "Really. Are you okay?"

Ryder squirmed. "Fine."

"What happened to your face?"

Her hand twitched up to cover her injuries before she could stop herself. Ryder grimaced. "Okay. I'm sub-fine. But you can tell the Nexus I've got it, it's under control."

Scott shook his head. "Tell them yourself. I'm staying here. You need me."

Ryder went still as her mind raced through the possibilities, the plausible reasons for dismissing Scott, the pros and cons of having him around. Her brother. The one person who remembered what she looked like plastered after eight margaritas, the one person who knew about her cornrow phase, the guy who'd held back her hair when null-gravity training had made her sicker than the plague.

"Okay," she heard herself saying. "No problem. You can get a bunk in my quarters. We'll figure something out that's more permanent later."

Scott, still wearing their father's face, relaxed. He smiled at her, his face shining. "I thought you'd say no," he admitted. "It's going to get better, Sara. You'll see. We'll look out for each other."

Ryder made herself smile back. A forgotten, queasy feeling pushed against her—as unwelcome and unwarranted and nameless as it had been back when, as children, Scott had suddenly grown stronger than her. "I should wash up," she said, instead of everything else.

To begin with, she really did have to wash up. Ryder spent long minutes in the shower, her forehead pressed against the warming tile. "If you have any suggestions, now would be a good time." She mumbled. SAM kept quiet. It figured. Ryder rubbed the warm water over her legs, between her thighs. She was newly bruised, purple memories knocked across her legs. Lexi would say that was a sign of a low iron count.

His hand on her throat, how the pressure increased with a surgeon's precision, how warm her head became the moment she knew she couldn't breathe—

Ryder punched the shower's switch, cutting the water. She'd start with the problems she could solve. "SAM, scan for that Lithium deposit. Nexus satellites only, please."

She dressed as SAM let himself into the satellite's server, feeling pretty sincerely excited at the prospect of returning to her own bed. A few deposits pinged nearby, and she had the coordinates sent to Suvi for further analysis. One night off. Pathfinder was officially off the clock.

Ryder burrowed as deeply as possible into her bed, missing the heavy quilt she'd owned a lifetime ago. The ship hummed gently around her. Now and then a passing crew member's footsteps wandered past. Ryder flipped over. She flipped over again. She should have spent the night with him.

And right on cue, her omni-tool buzzed in a new message. Probably Suvi. Probably Scott. Definitely business related and therefore requiring her immediate attention.

Ryder wiggled from her cocoon, groping around. His letters became lasers, beams in her eyes. She read them over, and over, and over again.

I wish you'd stayed.

In the morning, Ryder gave her orders.

Through a note.

"Really?" Cora hissed. Her hiss was caught by the transmitter, drawn out as a spit of static. "Really. Again."

"No." Ryder said, in her best Pathfinder voice. "I know what you're thinking, and I want you to know, I have simply delegated responsibilities. I thought about calling a meeting, but you all seemed to be sleeping so nicely. Notes are cool. Vintage."

Cora stepped back from the conflict. She let go. She was too disciplined, too proud to whine. A fact that Ryder knew and fully intended to leverage for as long as possible. "Fine." Cora breathed out. "Why am I stuck with your brother while you get to blow things up?"

"You also might get to blow things up," Ryder pointed out. "I trust your judgment around explosives. Not Liam's. But you get me. Anyway, you're the only person I can trust on a bar-recon mission. Everyone else would just get drunk."

Cora seemed to be deeply struggling with something. Finally, she eked out. "First: I don't like the idea of you going somewhere without back-up. But I'm tired of fighting that point. The second thing is, I don't get along with Scott. No offense. But please keep that in mind in the future."

Ryder assumed a mask of benevolent patience. The Nomad, which she had clipping along at over a hundred-fifty kilometers an hour, ricocheted its way down a steep valley. The shaking and crashing were not the best sound effects for serenity. "Cora. No one gets along with Scott. He's like dad. Why do you think I picked you?"

"I'm hanging up," Cora announced, and cut the call. Ryder checked her map. Still fifty kilometers to go. Maybe by then Cora and Scott would be making out. It was possible. There was ample sexual frustration to go round. Now seemed like as good a time as any to stop thinking about her brother kissing people she knew.

Now Liam was calling. Ryder let him through, "What's up?"

"Pathfinder," Liam whispered, "Just because you put Jaal and I on the same team as Vetra, don't think we're happy about things."

"You ain't gotta lie." Ryder drawled. Jaal forced his way into the picture, essentially just seizing and maneuvering Liam by the wrist.

"We are concerned for your safety," Jaal said gravely. "Everyone else has split off with at least one partner to investigate their lithium site. And yet, we have formed a party of three while you operate alone. While I appreciate your consideration for our personal feelings, your security is more important."

"Yeah," Vetra added, from somewhere off-camera. "I'm sure I couldn't possibly imagine how this came to be. The subtle machinations of a Pathfinder. A mind that operates beyond the barriers of convention, species, and basic combat protocols."

Jaal and Liam were now eyeing each other, probably for some hint as to how they might decipher Code: Vetra. Ryder growled as she tore the Nomad through an innocent shrubbery.

"I'm not alone, I have SAM. Besides, this is just a little recon work. If I get a hit, I'll call you in," she lied breezily. "Surely I can handle that much." She could see Liam's face folding itself into a frown, his mouth opening to protest further. Ryder cut him off with a quick, "Sorry, call from Drack!" and switched the line. Twenty kilometers out. Drack's perpetually grim visage filled her screen.

"Are you going to yell at me?" Ryder asked, by way of greeting. Drack, who had incorrectly angled his camera to video his left shoulder, snorted as he made some adjustments.

"No. We Krogan have a long tradition of taking off for a long walk in the desert when the kids start bitching too much. It helps them appreciate you more when you feel like coming back." Drack paused thoughtfully. "Doesn't work as well on the wives."

Ryder suspected many Krogan owed surviving their adolescence thanks to this practice. "Is my brother there?" she whispered. "He's not going to like, bust out from behind you or anything, is he? Did you and Peebee already leave?"

"He isn't here. He was loud. I'm too old for loud. Sent him and Cora off a while back." Drack paused, and the camera began to shake wildly. "Sorry Ryder, hard to cut through this casserole. And I'm not having the sausage one." He took an enormous bite, and chewed thoughtfully. "You doing okay out there? Seen the scans."

"Yeah. Fine." Ryder shrugged. "Just, you know. I think I'm about to go ape shit on a den of drug lords. Should be fun."

Drack grunted approvingly. "If you're going to run away from your brother, at least make it count." Drack paused, then added. "No offense, but he's more strung out than a Turian cadet. I like you better."

Ryder was suddenly a little misty eyed. She blinked rapidly. "Thanks, um. But I'm not running away from my brother," Ryder laughed. She kept laughing. It was hard to stop laughing. "No way. Definitely not."

"Look kid," Drack sighed. "I got no reason to be busting your ass over what you do. Hell, I killed one of my brothers." He paused, then added, "Asshole. Still, it upset my mother. I feel bad about it. The point is, take your space if you need it."

Ryder had already been pretty busy dealing with her affection for the old Krogan. His continued understanding wasn't making it any easier. "Drack. Thanks."

"Whatever. We both know I'm not the one who's stuck playing host," Drack grunted. "I'm hoping Cora's identity feels threatened enough to ice him. Anyway, don't get shot anywhere important. Let me know if you need some backup and I'll meet you out there."

He hung up on her without further niceties, and Ryder spent the rest of her drive in relative silence, contemplating the many merits of her squad mates. She eventually shook herself from her sentimental haze. No time for that. She was less than a kilometer back from the center of her own Lithium deposit – one of three that SAM had picked out, each less than an hour's drive from the Port itself. Ryder had chosen this one because of the punishingly high mountain-face the lithium deposit was embedded into—in her experience, the preferred terrain of peoples trying to remain hidden.

Jaal, Liam and Vetra would hopefully be enjoying the spectacularly scenic waterfall she had sent them to by now.

Pathfinder, we will need to continue further exploration by foot.

She climbed out. "See anything? Smoke signals? Tire marks?"

Overlaying geological surveys with our present map indicates that there is an underground river beginning at the top of this mountain. The river is known to branch in several directions, with its waters emerging above ground at several sites near Kadara Port. Proposal: this river would serve as an excellent natural vehicle for transporting illegal goods, with the additional advantage of having no energy signature.

Ryder considered this. "I have to climb the mountain."

Analysis suggests—

"You're such a bastard." Ryder complained. In truth, the Nomad had nearly taken her to the top already. But the remaining meters up were almost a complete vertical, an obstacle that even her jump jets would likely have her bouncing off of.

It was a good thing no one was around to witness this.

Reyes called her halfway up. Ryder declined a video feed. "Hey."

"What are you doing? Why are you panting like that?"

"I'm—" Ryder desperately clung to what felt like about three blades of grass, both feet kicking over what she felt comfortable describing as a chasm. "—jogging."

"Huh." He moved on. "Listen. I want to do something different. Let's have dinner?"

"What!" Ryder screamed, now throwing herself into a desperate free fall. She collided roughly with the cliff face, and scrambled to find purchase.

"What?" Reyes echoed. He was definitely alarmed. "Turn on your camera."

"Dinner sounds nice," Ryder squeaked. She heaved herself onto the narrow ledge, gasping wetly. This was stupid. She should have taken the waterfall. "Are we going to get a pizza before or after your political enemies literally eat us?"

There was a pause of silence from Reyes. "Did you just spit?"

She definitely had. Adrenaline made her mouth wet. It was just a thing. "No. What time's dinner?"

"I'm not sure, probably as soon as I find out where you are and what you're doing."

Ryder had a pretty strong suspicion he was pulling up a screen that advertised her as a tiny, blinking GPS marker at that very moment. She wondered how exactly he was tracking her. Something on her suit? Could people ingest trackers? She wouldn't put it past him. "What's wrong, can't stay away from me?" She hunched, jets ready, preparing to fling herself into an absurd vertical leap.

Reyes laughed. "I can't, and I don't want to."

Ryder was pretty sure she had never jumped so high. Arms shaking, she hauled herself up inch by painful inch, her struggle made more difficult by trying to muffle her own ragged breathing. "I'm hanging up. Team's checking out those Lithium deposits. I'll have more for you soon." She managed to kick one leg up, hooking her heel over the cliff's edge, then rolled inelegantly forward. Finally. Finally. Dazed with exertion, Ryder let herself simply lie there, gasping.

"Be careful," he said. She was too tired to really listen to him. "I don't want to lose you," he added, and ended the call.

Ryder kept lying there, her muscles reduced to yogurt, as the seconds and minutes ticked past. Finally, finally, she pushed herself up, grinning. He liked her. Did he like her? No, that was stupid. Stupid Ryder.

Upon standing, the most obvious thing of note was probably the landing pad. Ryder stared at it, seething. Those cheaters. The likely well-air conditioned cheaters. Who were also, by the way, nefarious drug chemists and child murderers. Their base, now that she was finally on top of the stupid mountain, was only a short distance away from the landing pad, and clearly visible from her position.

Ryder zipped towards a nearby rock outcropping for some cover, getting ready to radio Peebee and Drack for backup, when a sudden thought made her pause. Because—she hadn't gotten to try out those combat matrices, after all.

She bit her lip, finger literally hovering over the call button. They could be here within an hour. But the base was right there, and—and! She would be able to tell, right away, if taking out the drug ring was enough to change Reyes' future. Somehow, she doubted her crew would be all that thrilled to watch her have another seizure-vision.

They also probably wouldn't be that excited to know that she'd died because she'd gone into a fight without backup.

"Fine," Ryder bargained, either to herself or SAM or Reyes' hypothetical tracker chip. "If there's less than five, I take them on. Five and up, I call in my Krogan."

The universe heard.

Ryder darted between the wind-smoothed rocks, ears pricked, eyes narrowed and fixed on the drug base's windows. She inched nearer, discovering and tucking herself into a choice spot for visibility, for target sighting. Methodically, she began setting up her sniper's rifle, hands moving without thought. She'd done this a thousand, ten thousand times. "Okay," Ryder coached herself. "Step one. We reinstall our psychic combat thing. Step two, we don't have a seizure. Step three, we take out this base. Step four, we get our seer on. SAM, you are on seizure duty. Don't make me replace you with a dog."

SAM immediately began prattling on about how 'the combat matrices were dangerous' and 'her current plan of action seemed extremely ill-advised.' Ryder wanted to roll her eyes except she was trying to be more mature. She settled for some rapid blinking.

Stop that.

"If you don't install them, I'm probably going to get shot," Ryder pointed out. "And die. Also, you do as I say. So do it. Now." Yes, much better. Strong Pathfinder moves.

SAM began doing his uncomfortable mind-rearranging thing. Her omni-tool flashed, and Ryder tapped in her user permissions. Five minutes to reinstall. Faster than she'd expected. Maybe SAM had left a few back doors open for himself. "So walk me through this, how does it work and when should I haul ass to clear the area? Are headaches the only way for me to realize we're about to go under?"

Now that I am more familiar with system diagnostics, I should be able to monitor synchronization rates and give you ample warning before we overload. An attack such as the one you suffered before should be easy to avoid, so long as we are able to distance ourselves from stressors in time. I can uninstall the program if need be. I would advise that all adversaries be eliminated prior to the uninstall.

"Can we film this? I mean, for the documentary. Because I think I'm going to kick some ass." Ryder trilled, and then actually slapped a hand over her own mouth. She was starting to sound like Liam. Or, just, insane.

Program docked.

Ryder checked her guns, then lay flat on the sun-warmed rock, dragging herself forward with her elbows. She mounted the sniper rifle, checking the base's windows through her scope. At least four people inside, two Salarians that wore heavy gas masks, a tweaked out Turian, and a human woman with bold lipstick. Four targets. Just under quota. Ryder zoomed in. "Launch," she ordered.

And then the world dropped out from under her, her ears became speakers that angled inward. She felt her heart beating as she never had before, felt each bone and muscle of her body, that fantastic machine. The woman's lipstick shone with a light—an unnatural light, a purple light, UV? Ryder adjusted the scope. Perfect clarity. Perfect purpose. She didn't see things anymore, so much as she saw the space around them, the narrowed and swelling spaces.

She shot.

The bullet made an satisfying, circular hole through window's glass. Through the Turian's skull, into the woman's thigh, where at last the missile lodged in bone. The Turian went down and the Salarians were already ducked for cover, the woman with the bleeding thigh and the red mouth had drawn her weapon, and—the lights went out. They'd cut power, made it harder for her to pick them out from the darkness, at least at a distance.

Ryder stood.

She pulled up her shields, and simply walked towards the front door. She didn't need to run. They couldn't get away from her. Her legs, in all their power and strength, carried her forward.

"Get the fucking bomb," one of the Salarians was shouting. "Get the fucking bomb!"

The door blew outwards, slamming flat against Ryder's shields, an impromptu ballistic powerful enough to make her stagger, then the woman with the lipstick was there and swinging what looked like a sharpened bone for Ryder's face. Almost dreamily, Ryder pulled her head out of the way, noticing the bone-blade's carvings, the well-smoothed place on its handle that could only have come from years of wear.

The woman's beautiful mouth was opening. She had very light, almost colorless eyes. Ryder's ears rattled with the sound of her own breath, her life.

"Bye," Ryder offered. She reached out and grabbed the woman's wrist. Her thumb dug into a nerve, and the woman's hand flew open, so that the bone-knife went flying away. One of the Salarians was coming out—and that was a Krogan, shit—but later, first—

She shot over the woman's shoulder, catching the Salarian's soft, wet flesh with a spray of buckshot. The Krogan was maneuvering what looked like a small canon, swinging it around to face her, his armor and his body like a wall—indifferent even as she shot him in the face. No time—Ryder kicked the woman's knee, catching the edge of her kneecap and smashing it, and they dropped together so Ryder could lift what remained of the base's door—a heavy thing, at least thirty pounds of warped steel, and even that buckled violently beneath whatever the Krogan was packing. She could hear his weapon charging, the high whine of it—another blast from that thing would end it, would rip through the steel door she hid behind or break whatever body part she used to support it.

"SAM, drones!" Ryder hissed. The woman was screaming, clutching her head. Ryder lobbed a flash grenade and sprinted—no time no time—her eyes closed, her nose stinging with ozone. Two of her fingers were badly jammed, numb and stiff and uncooperative. She dropped the combat drones behind her, anything that could buy her some time, fumbling to swap out shotgun for pistol—she needed precision, not force—

Ryder ducked around the building's corner, hearing her drone detonate, the Krogan's furious roar. She peeked out, snapping off her pistol's safety and aiming—breathe, breathe, breathe—her brother had always been better shot and always, her dad saying the same thing: "You're all over the place, you need to focus, you need to let go of everything else, you need to be empty."

And they hadn't understood, her army friends or her teachers, why she spent so much time at the firing range. Because she was a good shot, she was steady and practiced and not everyone can have perfect eyesight, a little blurriness wasn't the end of the world, her natural endurance would have been wasted on a sharp-shooter anyway, she didn't have to be a sniper—

Flash grenade hadn't worked, hadn't blinded him, the Krogan saw her, he was aiming, he was—

But she wasn't the same person anymore.

Ryder shot. A single, clean crack of a noise. It was almost beautiful.

The Krogan was dead, though still standing, still rocking forward, his body struggling to understand the death of its brain. Ryder stepped. One foot forward, then the other. She expected to feel something, elation or nerves or, just, anything. The cannon slipped from the Krogan's grip, banging loudly on a rock as it fell. The woman with the lipstick was still alive, but sobbing. Ryder bent to pick up the bone-blade and the Krogan finally crumbled, as the woman too surrendered to unconsciousness.

Ryder stepped over the dead Salarian and squinted through the dark lab, fumbling at the walls for lights. Her head was starting to ache, even as the air just to her left rippled, and Ryder dodged—throwing herself deeper into the darkness as the living Salarian tried to bum-rush her. "Cut the shit," she hissed, swinging the bone knife out, and cutting, and there—at last—were the lights.

The other Salarian's hands pressed over his chest's gash, gasping. He panicked as the lights came on, fumbling with the lab's tables for a weapon. He snatched and threw blindly—pencils, vials, half a sandwich, a Bunsen burner—Ryder moved forward, listening to the raspy, frantic gasp of his breath. "Stop," she said quietly. "Sit down."

He froze, still quivering, large eyes darting sideways, up—not a fighter, not even a real scientist, she could see the burn marks and the ink stains on his sleeves. Imperfect, a cook rather than a chemist. His long, thin fingers flattened protectively over the cut she'd given him. "Pathfinder," he managed to squeak out. "I don't want to die."

"Then sit. I need to scan."

"The computer's locked. I'll let you in," the Salarian babbled. "It has everything. All our trials. I didn't think the Nexus would get involved, it's not like we're that important—"

Ryder's hands clenched. Her temples were throbbing, insistent. Empty. She had to be empty. "It's a problem when you start tearing kids into itty bitty pieces. Who knew?"

"We—what? We didn't. I swear, we didn't. Is this about those murders?" He was still babbling as she steered him bodily towards the computer, watched the long, spindly fingers strike the keyboard. She could feel SAM sync up, drain the data, screens and lights flashing wildly, painfully. Ryder closed her eyes, wincing.

"Yeah," she rasped. Not much longer. "Yeah, it's about the murders."

"It wasn't us," the Salarian yelped. "My god. I don't know anything about that. But if you're here—then someone must have been on the drug. PX-92230. I don't know, I didn't even handle the selling. I was quality control."

"How can you be quality control if the product is still evolving?"

The Salarian blinked. "What? It's not." His attention swung away from her, as was often the case with Salarians. He prodded the flesh near his wound, seeming terribly young, almost childlike. "PX-92230 is a mood modifier, a…an antidote. When people begin coming out of stasis, many of them require extensive psychological care. For whatever reason, the centuries of suspended life activity leaves them with an intense, chronic depression. They can treat you for it on the Nexus, but it takes time, and many of us left the Initiative before we could complete treatment."

Ryder could only stare at him, her ears ringing. Leave. She had to leave. "It's not…it's not a party drug?"

"What? No!" The Salarian had nearly yelled in outrage, but now coughed, wincing. "I'll admit we're a knock-off brand, but the effects are the same as what the doctor ordered. We help people. Pathfinder, you can see for yourself. You have our records."

Her hands had started to shake. Ryder hesitated. He could be lying. Or she was missing something, she should—she should burn it, she should burn the whole place to the ground, they'd shot at her—

She stared down at the Salarian, her gut twisting. She hated killing Salarians. They were always so young.

Pathfinder, we need to force uninstall your combat matrices or else risk overload.

"No," Ryder ordered. She turned, and broke into a staggering run. Leave the Salarian. Leave the busted lab. Leave the woman in lipstick, the dead Krogan. They weren't innocent, she told herself. They weren't murdered. "SAM, leave the matrices. Upload all data to the Tempest, have Suvi c-cross reference with the Nexus." She shook her head. Had she just stuttered? Shit.

She kept running, her eyes slitting, something comforting about the even pound of her feet against the ground, the air rushing past her. She threw on her jets, bouncing down the mountain side faster than she should have, faster than she could really control or stop. Her matrices were still running, still nudging her away from a jammed ankle, a smashed spine. She crash-landed against the Nomad, rolling awkwardly into the driver's seat. She slumped forward into the steering wheel, her body still remembering, her body and her vehicle's smart sensors driving her a full fifteen kilometers forward to safety, to desolation.

Ryder fumbled at the car door, rolling out, dropping painfully to her knees. She huddled down. Head: officially zero inches from the ground. Shields: fully functional. Sharp objects: at a safe distance. Armor: very secured.

She focused on Reyes. It was harder to fully picture him than she would have initially guessed. Her mind felt like a camera struggling to focus, so that by the time she'd finished recalling the timbre and roll of his voice, the way he dragged some letters or skipped others or had a way of changing questions into implications—she'd lost herself, given up too much room, so now the mouth that spoke the words she could so perfectly recall became opaque, and overly soft.

It was easier to remember flashes of him than the full picture—the slight squint, his wide shoulders, how he never seemed to face her completely. Despite herself, this incompleteness disturbed her.

Pathfinder, our synchronization levels are rising.

"I know," Ryder mumbled.

Why are you doing this?

The question she definitely did not want to answer.

Children torn to pieces, faces grown from moss, the sick feeling she was learning to associate with plants and wine and debauchery, a sort of sick paranoia, the way he looked at her, his face destroyed by bullets, Keema Dohrgun sitting high upon her throne, the lies, the—

Her head was ringing, and tinny, her ears full of metal. Ryder grit her teeth. She opened herself to fear. Fear of fire, fear of starless space, a void that could overtake people, a void that lived in everyone. Fear: Reyes, too far and too close. Fear: the ground beneath her fingers—a tremor? Footsteps! No.

P-Pathfinder you are approaching critical synchronization levels—

"Let it run," Ryder gritted out. Her face was bloated, bursting. Had she really endured this before? Had she hidden this, from Liam and Jaal? Was she insane? Something scratched away at her peripheral vision, an intrusion, an ill-fated visitor.

Ryder opened her eyes, her body vibrating, her heat pushing out in waves to feel the vast room around her. The Collective's Base. And Keema, sitting on her throne, up above her. Ryder stared up at the other woman, watching her pour, watching her drink. The wine became beautiful, molten ruby as it swallowed the light. It stained the Angara's lips, which were spreading, and smiling, and there was a taste at the back of Ryder's mouth, something thick and bitter—tannins from an old red, the exposure of some dead, crushed vegetable. Plants. Keema wasn't looking at her.

There was something else, too, a kind of roar, a thing that hugged the room's windows. The pressure that is felt upon being stalked by some great predator.

Ryder turned slightly, following Keema's gaze, and there was Reyes—one hand smoothing back his hair, one reaching behind his back, looking for something hidden. He moved so slowly, like a man that had been poured from a honey jar. Her mouth sweetened, just seeing him. She knew, too late, his saunter.

Reyes, his mouth curving up, the space in his eyes opening to allow room for expression, for romance—then vacant, dead, his body collapsing in a slow arc back from her, and laughter—ugly, laughter like a gunshot, like the silence that enters when life has left.

Traitor, Ryder wanted to say, and she turned away from Reyes, his silence. She looked back up to Keema, and the Angara's seat atop power, but Keema's hands were empty. The glass she'd once held was now shattered, and the Angara's rich, complicated smile now deepened, cut like a diamond. She held no weapon. She held no malice.

She was looking into the shadows, the shadows just past Ryder's shoulder. And Ryder realized that she'd been wrong, that Reyes had been shot from behind, he'd never been harmed by Keema at all but now his murderer was just behind her, and the windows, the thing beyond the windows was swelling—

And Ryder turned and she stopped and she saw the gun, the lies, the face of the killer. The room's windows burst inward as a great tide rushed in, drowning them.

And then, she saw nothing, she saw the sound of white noise.

A man's feet, his legs. The man, stooping to lift her, and without meaning to, she began to cry. "You came," she said, and then nothing else.

The thing under her head was alive.

Military training kept Ryder still as she awoke. The thing under her head shifted. Thighs? A familiar smell. Someone's voice, she didn't know them, they were talking about their route up the Corsica valley, a blockage in supply lines…smugglers? Ryder sniffed again.

"You're awake," Reyes' voice spoke. Ryder opened her eyes. He was looking down at her, closing out of whatever he'd been reading on his omni-tool. A lazy swing from an old fan twirled overhead. They were towards the back of an old cargo area, mostly empty, while at least two pilots chatted on the bridge.

"Hi," Ryder managed to whisper.

"Good morning," Reyes replied. Ryder sat up gingerly, wincing in anticipation. She didn't hurt as much as she'd expected. He'd found her somehow (she still suspected a chip) and brought her on one of the Collective's ships, something small and slower than most people would guess. Her armor was lying in a neat pile on the floor near her.

"You're pretty good at finding me. Insert romantic platitude here." Ryder glanced at him hopefully, poking carefully around at her old injuries. Nothing seemed disturbed. Reyes glared.

"You were bleeding from your eyeballs when I found you, you know," he said.

"Ew." Ryder immediately rubbed at her face. No blood. Her eyes stung. "I mean, hardcore, but super gross."

Reyes raised an eyebrow. "So? You've obviously had another seizure, I can only assume either something went wrong with your AI and I should be taking you to a surgeon—or you did it on purpose and I should take you to a psychiatrist."

"It's helpful that Lexi is both," Ryder acknowledged. Reyes was still glaring at her. She shifted her gaze, swallowing. It would be easier to spend time with him if she didn't have to keep up the evasive maneuvers.

"So? Am I still dead in your visions?"

Ryder stared determinedly at the ceiling. "You don't have to sound so flippant about it."

Something flashed across his face. "Yes, then. Obviously. I've heard about your prediction matrix thing from one of your crew. So, what did you see? Who killed me?"

Ryder hesitated. She chewed the inside of her cheek and regarded him, wondering how long it would take for her to learn the trick to lying well. A lock of hair had broken free from the others, and swung now across his brow. Ryder reached up. She smoothed it back in place. She wanted to put everything back, just the way she found it.

"It was you," she admitted. "You did it."

It had been him—walking out of the shadows, old swagger, an echoed memory of the day he'd revealed himself as Charlatan, a pistol in his hand—shiny, silver and antique. A pistol her father had owned, a memento from some family member. It hadn't made it to Andromeda. It was a pistol that could never kill him, only her own idea, her perception of what a pistol should look like. Ryder frowned.

Reyes snorted. "Oh. Well. That makes security pretty easy."

"No—" she began to protest, throat closing. "You don't understand. I don't think it's literal."

But he was rising, brushing himself off. Dismissing her fear. "I've never been the suicidal type." He fixed her with a hard look. "Can you say the same?"

Ryder stumbled to her feet, chasing after him. The cargo ship was unsteady, veering through tight canyons with old, hashed up tech. She had been spoiled by the Tempest. She needed to keep one hand on the wall—or maybe that was her own vertigo? "Reyes, wait!" she insisted. "I was wrong about the drug ring—"

"I know," he interrupted. Why wouldn't he look at her? She stared fixedly at the hard tendons of his neck, where the muscle met his hairline. Right there. She wanted to kiss him right there. But Reyes was still business, still talking. "Your crew's been in touch. Those records you found check out. That base you found was run by criminals, but they're hardly cultists. Your science officers seem to think that the drugs were purchased from the base you found and then modified by the cultists somehow. We've been cross-referencing the buyers while you recovered."

Ryder froze.

Reyes, still angrily striding away from her, took several paces before turning. "What?"

She'd killed them. Not innocent. Deserving murder?

Ryder licked her lips, her heart suddenly pounding. "What about the bodies?"

"The bodies?" Reyes echoed. He frowned at her. "What bodies?"

"The chemists. The people at the base. I killed—three of them, maybe four." Stop. Stop. Stop. Ryder took a breath. Even Addison would tell her, these things happened. People made mistakes, even Pathfinders. Let it go and move on. "I just—I just thought, maybe—" she trailed off, clamping her mouth shut. She thought what? That an exception should be made; that acknowledged criminals should be extracted from a lawless land just so they could be buried somewhere else? For what, her own childish sense of guilt? Ryder swallowed. "Nothing. Sorry."

She wanted to put her armor on. With that determination, Ryder turned to leave him. She'd ask the pilots to drop her at their earliest convenience. She'd radio Gil, ask for an extraction—

Reyes caught her wrist. "Hey," he said, more gently than she'd expected. Ryder held perfectly still, focused on making not one single noise. She felt, before he spoke, the slight shift of his grip, a loosening. "I want to surprise you," he said. "Have you played the game where you close your eyes, and someone leads you to a present?"

Ryder sniffed. It was either sniffing or irreversible water damage at this point, and she really didn't want to cry. "What kind of present?"

"A good one," he promised.

She rubbed her face with her sleeve. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, but nothing seemed ready to come out. Instead she closed her eyes, and let him take her hands. She followed him, lurching with the ship, but somehow never stumbling into walls or tripping. After some time had passed and they'd made probably a shorter journey than she would have guessed, he helped her sit. Ryder spread her hands across the cool, flat surface in front of her. "Are we in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"Are you feeding me?"

"Close."

With her eyes still closed, Ryder laid her face against the countertop. It was cool, soothing against a face that felt so swollen, so damp. She'd absorbed her tears back into herself. She didn't want to think about this anymore. "I can't really cook," she told him. "I guess most people can't anymore. But my dad liked it. That surprises people. When he died I—there was this one thing he would make me on my birthdays. I mean, mine and Scott's. I don't know why he kept making it, it was this…I think it might have been Chinese, this kinda dumpling soup thing. Scott really liked it but I never finished mine. When he died I, um, I had another birthday and I kind of wanted to keep the tradition going. I wanted to make it again, but I couldn't. I don't know what it's called."

The chair across from her scraped back, and Ryder startled upright, her eyes flying open. Reyes froze, his arm outstretched. He'd been just about to press a mug of something brown into her hands. Ryder blushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to look."

"It's fine," he shrugged her off. She drew the mug to her chest, sniffing. Something with booze. Something with fire, and chocolate. Reyes caught her eye and smiled. "What my father made me. So I'd shut up and sleep."

Ryder started to laugh, and then quickly stopped herself. She sounded awful, like someone about to have a nervous breakdown. "Thanks," she rasped, and took a quick sip. And then a big one. She hadn't realized she'd been freezing.

"Let's stop splitting up," Reyes said. She looked up at him, still clutching her mug. He shrugged. "I mean it. Let's just stop. You're here, I'm here. You can't order me away like you can with everyone else, so at least someone will be around to watch you rampage." He shrugged again, now with an odd, dismissive gesture. "I don't want to fight anymore. You'll do what you want."

She looked down into her mug. "I'd like that."

"Okay."

"My brother probably won't." Ryder muttered, more to herself.

Reyes leaned across the table, face intent. "So what? You're the Pathfinder, not him. I know you want to help people, but you've gotta stop taking their shit. You've earned your title. You've done so much—too much. In fact, I think you should step back. Let people figure things out on their own for once, or at least stop doing everything by yourself."

She finished her spiked hot chocolate. There wasn't anything else left for her to hide behind. "I know, Reyes," she admitted, her voice shrinking. "I know. I get it. I'm tried of it too. But I just…can't. I can't let go yet. I just don't want something bad to happen. I don't want to fail."

"You won't. You can't. You've already succeeded. Look at what you've done."

"I don't want to be—just, you know, some girl with the famous dad who fucked everything up. You know, I—I didn't really want to come to Andromeda. I guess not that much was happening for me in the Milky Way. I was just, you know, normal. I'd just finished school, my military training. I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do next but I—I had friends and, like, a favorite bar. I had things. I wanted adventure but I didn't—I mean, Andromeda's so…so far. There's adventure and then there's…I don't know. I didn't want to leave everything behind. But my dad did. For him, he took off the past like it was nothing, like a…like a shrug." Ryder stopped. She felt uncomfortable, the way he was looking at her. He wasn't smiling. She'd spent so much time wishing he'd take her seriously, only to discover how much harder it became when he actually did. She started speaking to her toes.

"I found out later that there was…some shit going down. Some war I didn't know about. But he didn't tell me. He didn't tell me any of that. He told my brother and me that he'd signed up as Pathfinder for the Andromeda Initiative, and Scott said he'd go, like no hesitation. Plus, mom had just died, so, I—what the hell was I supposed to do? I had to go. I would have followed them anywhere."

Reyes nodded. She could just see the bottom of his chin, the edge of his sympathy. "When I got in the cryo pod, I thought maybe I'd never wake up," she admitted. "I guess lots of people did. Some of them were right. Even then, I followed them."

"I'd say it worked out okay," Reyes said. Her shoulder twitched, rather than shrugged.

"Yeah. I guess." Her dad was dead. Ryder swallowed. "I can't really remember it, honestly. Before. Do you ever feel that way? We haven't even been in Andromeda that long but sometimes…sometimes I wonder if the person I was before just disappeared when I became the Pathfinder. I know that sounds dramatic. Sorry. I didn't mean to be such a bummer."

She couldn't look at him. She'd felt less exposed with his head between her thighs, and she could feel him now as he watched her, the weight of his gaze, the way he saw everything. She wanted to evaporate.

His hand curled around hers, pulling. She let herself hide against him, let him pull her upright. He twirled her slowly around, and when she was at last brave enough to face him, the look on his face was almost gentle.

"Do you remember the first time we did this?" he asked. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as they drifted, now hardly moving. She felt heavy, her body handing loosely from its spine as she swayed with him, puppet-like. Back and forth and back, hypnotic, the swing that was used to put babies to sleep.

"Of course I remember," Ryder murmured. "Why did you think I could forget?"

He held her back, her hip. Not enough. "You're a busy woman. I would never be so arrogant."

"Shut up," Ryder grumbled. They held each other, still gently moving, and she breathed carefully, trying to pull out the smell of his neck. "I thought you were kind of corny." She admitted. "It made me let my guard down. But then I wondered if maybe that was the point, if it was a feint."

"Why, because I did the things you wanted?"

Ryder narrowed her eyes. "Exactly."

Reyes laughed. There was a longer pause than Ryder expected, one full of his indecision. Finally, he said, "It's true. I was corny. I wanted to try being different."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," he sighed. He pulled her hair tie, dragged it loose. He considered her, for so long she began to blush. "Maybe I should say this makes you look softer. But you know, it doesn't. You're still the same." He brushed a few strands behind her ear. She hadn't known they could feel so sensitive, so nervous. She had thought that she'd feel differently about him once they'd had sex, but that wasn't true. She still didn't know him at all.

"You're always talking about being different. About changing," Ryder noted. She asked, knowing he wouldn't tell her, "Why?"

Sometimes, his eyes looked green. They did now. His head bent, and he kissed her. She would never get used to him. She kissed him back, trying to soak her way inside. She could feel herself coming up short, tripping over some hidden wire. She couldn't tell who or what was responsible anymore, who was to blame, she could only keep trying to force her way through.

"It's because I hate the idea of destiny," he whispered in her ear. "Because if that's true, then what's the fucking point? Why are we even alive? My life was supposed to be something very different. You, too. We became different people, when we came to Andromeda. Nothing was certain. Everything could be chosen. And I want you to choose me, a person you should never have met. Choose me anyway."

Her world, in that second, became they point of a dreidel. The universe could only spin around them, and he was right there at her center, unmoving. Ryder swallowed, her lips parting, because even as her head became perfectly empty, even as something unnamed shook within her, she knew that she had to—she had to say something—

His hand covered her mouth, catching the little noise she had started to make. Reyes was looking down at her, with an unyielding intensity. "Or don't. But stop trying to see the future. Stop believing that there's only one outcome. It'll be okay. And more than that, I don't want to see you hurt like that again. Trust me. We'll find a way. Trust me."

He didn't lower his hand. His palm was warm, a little chapped. He wouldn't let go until she nodded. She didn't want him to let go at all.

She nodded.

#reyes/ryder #reyes vidal #sara ryder #ryder/reyes #femryder #mass effect: andromeda #mass effect andromeda #keema dohrgun #cora harper #scott ryder #nakmor drack

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