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“For someone who doesn’t have any hair,” Fatima said, “you’re getting pretty good at this.”
With a laugh, Vetra playfully tugged at Fatima’s hair, silken and damp from her shower, before she resumed combing through the ends. It had taken some time to learn the intricacies of grooming a human’s hair, but Vetra was nothing if not determined to practice. And Fatima was nothing if not patient, even when it meant trying not to wince and grunt in pain whenever Vetra encountered a tangle or accidentally poked her too hard with the teeth of the comb.
Hair had always been something of a mystery to Vetra before—how it changed shape and form depending on whether it was wet or dry, how it grew back even after it was cut off, the many possible yet seemingly impossible ways it could be styled. She couldn’t deny the appeal of it now, though, nor the appeal of the woman whose hair was currently the object of her focus.
Vetra smiled when Fatima tipped her head back and hummed insistently. Taking the hint, she ran the comb through her hair at the crown of her head, and Fatima sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Oh, that’s so good,” she crooned. “Remind me to tell you about scalp massages sometime.”
“Sounds straight forward enough,” Vetra said. “I should probably file my talons first, though.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
The offer touched Vetra more than Fatima probably realized. She never considered herself to be a vain person, but it wasn’t about vanity. It was the intimacy she craved that the act of grooming provided for turians and their loved ones. It was one of the most selfless acts of love a turian could perform for another. She wanted many more moments like it with Fatima.
Satisfied with her handiwork, Vetra set the comb down beside her on the bed and picked up the elastic band Fatima had given her earlier. She gathered Fatima’s hair in her fingers and secured it in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, the same way she always styled it.
“There,” she said. “Finished.”
Fatima ran a hand over her head from front to back, checking for bumps along her hair. When she found none, she turned to face Vetra and smiled.
“Thanks, V,” she said.
“No trouble at all,” Vetra replied, and then bent her head for a kiss.
Fatima met her halfway as Vetra reached for her, cradling the side of her face with her hand. Her thumb brushed over a fading scar on Fatima’s cheek, one she hadn’t noticed before. Much like the hair on their heads, human skin was soft and fragile, so unlike the metallic plates that kept Vetra herself from harm’s way. Then again, Vetra wondered, what difference would either skin or plates have made when Fatima’s heart had stopped beating?
Her thumb slowed as the thought gave her pause. Crap. Why did she have to remind herself of that now? It had been weeks since Meridian, even longer since the Archon’s ship. Fatima was fine now, sitting right in front of her safe and alive.
Fatima drew back from the kiss when she noticed Vetra’s shift in demeanor, covering Vetra’s hand with her own.
“Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?”
Vetra cleared her throat and nodded silently, not trusting her voice. There was no sense in lying, she knew, but her response was practically automatic by this point. She had made a habit out of deflecting her own emotions to spare others. She’d had to, all those years she spent raising Sid.
Fatima wasn’t Sid, though. Vetra didn’t have to shelter her from the harsh realities and dangers of the galaxy, especially not where they concerned Fatima personally. But she wanted to. Spirits, how she wanted to.
Fatima called her bluff almost immediately, frowning as she shook her head.
“Talk to me,” she implored. “Please.”
Vetra felt her throat constrict with emotion as she met Fatima’s gaze. Fatima looked at her with such honesty, spoke to her in a voice she reserved only for her. It was hard not to open up to her.
“I’m scared,” she confessed, mandibles pressed tightly against her face.
Fatima tightened her grip around Vetra’s hand. “Scared of what?”
Vetra was overcome with the suffocating feeling of regret. This wasn’t supposed to be about her. She wished she hadn’t said anything, but she had already gotten this far. She couldn’t take it back now.
“You died,” she whispered.
Guiltily, she looked away, but Fatima shifted on the bed, placing herself back into Vetra’s field of vision. She remained silent, however, allowing Vetra to continue.
“When you were on the Archon’s ship without me, I didn’t know what to do,” Vetra said. “We were monitoring your comms on the bridge. I was losing my mind trying to keep it together, but then I heard you take your last breath—”
“Vetra,” Fatima whispered.
Vetra realized she was shaking. She took a deep, calming breath.
“I was so sure I’d lost you—for good,” she said. “And then you died again, right in front of me this time, and even then there was nothing I could do.”
Fatima let go of Vetra’s hand in order to pull her into an embrace. She held her close, burying her face against her neck. Vetra moved her hand to the back of Fatima’s head, fingers smoothing over the still-damp strands of her hair, finding comfort in the repetition of her movements. Having Fatima near helped, but even so she couldn’t shake the niggling fear of losing her.
“I'm so sorry,” Fatima said.
Vetra laughed humorlessly. “Why do humans always apologize for things they didn’t do? It isn’t your fault.”
“I’m sorry you had to experience that regardless of whose fault it was,” Fatima elaborated. She sat back in order to look Vetra in the eye. “It hurts to see people you care about in danger.”
Vetra shook her head. “You’re the one who had to die. I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”
“That’s not—” Fatima cut herself off with a sigh. “I’m dealing with it.”
“Have you talked to Lexi about it?”
Fatima raised an accusatory eyebrow at her. “Have you?”
She had Vetra there. “Fair point.”
Fatima abruptly stood from the bed and headed to her closet. Vetra’s eyes followed her as she walked, watching curiously as Fatima rummaged through her belongings stowed away on the top shelf.
“Vetra, you don’t have to put your feelings aside just because someone else might have had it a little worse,” she said.
“A little?” Vetra echoed skeptically. “I think that’s putting it lightly, given the circumstances.”
When she found what she was looking for, Fatima returned and sat back down on the bed. She set a small, shallow box made of metal on her lap and opened it up for Vetra to see the contents inside.
Shocked, Vetra blinked in confusion. It was a manicure kit. It was turian-made and far more elaborate than the one Vetra already owned, but she recognized each of the pieces and the purposes they served. Fatima removed a file from its holster and then held out her hand, palm facing up.
“When did you get this?” Vetra asked.
“I bought it last time we were on the Nexus. Give it here,” she said, nodding to Vetra’s hand.
Wordlessly, Vetra placed her hand into Fatima’s waiting grasp. Fatima brought her fingers up closer to her face, inspecting them closely, before she set to work.
Vetra watched in awe as Fatima expertly filed down the sharp points of her talons. Like with everything she did, Fatima paid close attention to the fine details, meticulously ensuring each of Vetra’s claws were the same length, guiding the filing tool over the tips with short, precise strokes. Vetra grew more and more relaxed with each passing minute, and it was only when she gave Fatima her other hand that she realized exactly what Fatima was trying to do.
“You’re allowed to feel pain over what happened to me,” Fatima said. “You’re allowed to be scared. You don’t have to keep it together for my sake.”
“I should be the one telling you that,” Vetra said.
Fatima snorted. “Maybe I’m saying it for the both of us, then.”
She swapped out the file for a different one, pausing for a moment as she stared down at the instrument in her hand.
“Dying scared the shit out of me,” she continued, voice wavering, “because I didn’t want to lose you, either.”
Vetra felt as though someone had sucked all the air from her lungs. She wanted to take Fatima into her arms that very second, but she held still as Fatima buffed her talons until they shined like glass, enjoying the growing tenderness of the moment.
When Fatima finished several minutes later, Vetra looked down at her talons, admiring the way they gleamed in the light. She couldn’t remember the last time they had looked so nice.
“How do you always know what to do?” Vetra murmured.
“I’m a doctor,” Fatima said cheekily as she set the tools and kit aside. “And you’re my favorite patient.”
Vetra looked up at her. “I don’t suppose that’s also why you know how to give a turian a manicure?”
“That’s all thanks to the extranet,” Fatima replied. “How’d I do?”
Vetra bent her head toward her so their foreheads were pressed lovingly together. Even if her talons had turned out looking dull and uneven, she wouldn’t have cared. What mattered more was that Fatima had wanted to do this for her in the first place, and it was clear to Vetra now that Fatima understood the importance of the act.
“You did great,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Vetra,” Fatima said. “For everything. For being here, for worrying about me. For loving me.”
Vetra shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Loving you is the easy part.”
Fatima let out a watery laugh as she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Vetra’s lips. A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek, but Vetra was there to brush it away as if it had never been there.
“I know neither of us can make any promises,” Fatima said, “but I’m gonna fight like hell to make sure we never have to be scared like that again.”
Vetra nodded. “So will I.”
Fatima said nothing for a few moments as she collected herself. She simply stared into Vetra’s eyes, her expression unreadable. Then, she reached up and traced the edge of Vetra’s mandible with her fingertips.
“How did I get so lucky?” she whispered, voice filled with wonder.
“I forced my way onto your ship,” Vetra answered, nuzzling Fatima’s palm affectionately. “Didn’t exactly give you much of a choice.”
Fatima smirked. “Best decision you’ve ever made.”
Vetra grinned back at her. She couldn’t have agreed more.