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The light of the bright sunset poured in through the wide windows, casting a pink-orange glow across the space. Rhea hummed to herself as she pulled a glass down from the cabinet, getting herself some water from the tap. She stared out at the expansive ocean that she called her backyard as she sipped, old Earth music playing through the stereo. The little colony world couldn’t be a more perfect home. The tropical climate was almost as warm as Palaven and lacked the high radiation levels that made the turian homeworld dangerous for humans. It was everything the two war ravaged lovers needed.
It’d been a couple years since she retired from the Alliance at the ripe old age of 34. After the Reapers were no longer a threat, she stayed for a little while. They needed folks who were willing to help rebuild and repair the damage done. She did what she could, but after a while she grew exhausted. Her survivor’s guilt and PTSD had settled in more firmly in her mind. That she was so stubborn and strong willed had made it a little easier to manage, and most days she could carry on like normal, but she could still feel it lingering in the back of her mind. Having a permanent home helped.
Her new home was a house on a cliff that overlooked the coast, similar in design to the apartment on the Citadel. Her home, however, had one level with three bedrooms (one which had been turned into an emergency armory, just in case) and a massive living room that was separated from the kitchen only by an island. Garrus hated the large windows that lined the ocean facing side of their home, declaring them unsafe despite there being very few people in the galaxy who wanted them dead these days. Rhea, however, loved the way they let in the sunlight and the view of the sea. Being a pushover when it came to her, Garrus accepted his defeat in that particular argument.
She went stiff as the front door opened, her fingers itching to start up her biotics reflexively until she heard, “I’m home, Ray!” from the front hall.
Rhea closed her eyes, gripping the glass tight as she leaned forward against the stone countertop. Relax, she told herself, controlling her breathing to try calming herself. Her paranoia wasn’t getting any better.
“I’m back,” the all too familiar voice of her turian fiance said to her, Garrus setting a box of groceries on the counter beside her.
“Hey, honey,” she said, looking over and craning her neck up to meet the gaze of his bright blue eyes. He still wore that tactical visor, as though it would help him defeat rogue shoppers at the market.
His mandibles flared slightly in a way that she’d long since learned was a smile. She let the corners of her lips pull up into a little smile as he put a hand on her shoulder and bent down to nuzzle her forehead with his. Her eyes closed, this time peacefully, and she savored the moment before he stood straighter to start putting the food away.
“So what’d you get?” she asked as she opened a drawer, pulling out two rolls of colored tape. Red for levo, blue for dextro. The color coding was a backup to their positioning system. Food on the left side of the kitchen was for Rhea, and the right was for Garrus. The tape came in handy for those only slightly awake mornings where Rhea would pull out the first thing she found and start eating. It was fortunate that neither of them were allergic in any way to each other’s protein types.
“Enough for a couple weeks’ meals,” he said, opening the fridge to put away the various types of meat he’d bought.
Rhea pouted playfully. “Aww, but now we don’t have an excuse to go out for dinner in the city.”
“I thought you’d enjoy the excuse to stay inside,” he said, amusement in his tone.
She shrugged. “A little change in scenery wouldn’t be too bad. Did you read the message from Liara?”
“Which, the one inviting us to the Citadel?”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Rhea said, pulling off a few pieces of tape as she started her labeling process. “Apparently they've finally managed to put it back together. The buildings still need some work done, though.”
He eyed her for a second. Rhea knew that look, the worried one that said 'Can you handle it?’ She looked back at him with one that said, 'I’ll be fine’, and removed any potential for an argument. They very rarely fought, the last time hardly even classifying as such since it was more a disagreement on what to eat for dinner. They knew each other too well for fights, both willing to compromise to keep each other happy.
“It's not for a few months, though,” Garrus noted.
“Nope, gives us plenty of time to find an excuse if we need it,” she joked, sticking the last bit of blue tape on a package of gizzards.
Her best friend chuckled at this, the sound low in his throat and his amusement tangling with his subvocals. “You think there's anything left of the old apartment?”
“I heard that some spots of the Strip made it out alright,” she said. “I'm not that optimistic about the chances of any of our stuff having made it out of there intact.”
“Pessimism is supposed to be my job,” he said, giving her a nudge. Rhea rolled her eyes as she stuck red tape on a box of generic cereal. “Think any part of the casino made it out alive?”
“You mean the one where we got all dolled up just to find a dead man, then returned a week later and you all of a sudden could dance? Doubtful.” She paused for a second, thinking. “Maybe we should go back if they ever fix it up. You know, I wear a dress and you wear that suit, try to sweet talk each other. Make a thing out of it.”
He seemed intrigued by this. “It'll be at least another few years before they get that section of the Citadel fixed.”
“Plenty of time to make sure we don't have other plans,” she joked with a wink. Garrus smiled at this, looking at her fondly as they finished shelving boxes.
Rhea started humming again as the music changed, not knowing most of the lyrics but enjoying the tune of an almost two hundred year old song. Her parents had instilled a love of old music in her, the Frank Sinatra tune just one of many on her playlists.
Garrus noticed her change in mood with the new song. He'd heard it a number of times by now, and each time it made Rhea smile and sway. She was a terrible dancer, unless she was dancing with him.
Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft
There is nothing for me but to love you
And the way you look tonight
He smiled at her and took the tape from her, putting it back in the drawer of random crap they'd accumulated and taking her hand. She resisted when he tried to tug her to the wide open space of their living room.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her tone almost the same accusingly confused as when he’d done this almost five years ago.
He made a point of meeting her gaze as he turned up the stereo. “Come on, it'll be fun.”
She'd heard that one before. “You're asking a crippled old woman to dance with you?”
Garrus smirked at this, challenging her with, “You're only a couple years older than me and you stubbed your toe on the couch three days ago.”
For a moment Rhea stared at his hand and the silver band on his index finger that matched hers, the promise of permanence once everything else was settled always there. Then she sighed. “Oh, what the hell…” she caved, trying to hold back the smile her face wanted to betray her with. The betrayal came quickly as the small woman was twirled about in a circle, a laugh breaking through the air as she followed his lead.
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose
It touches my foolish heart
Lovely, don't you ever change
Keep that breathless charm
Won't you please arrange it?
'Cause I love you
Just the way you look tonight
The sunset glow of the room bathed them in brilliant warm colors as they danced, Rhea not once missing a beat or stepping on her best friend's toes. They kept dancing about as a couple more old songs played, including the song that played on their ‘first date’. Garrus laughed along with her as they took the time to enjoy themselves. They deserved it.
The two collapsed on their large couch in a heap, breathless and still giddy as they cuddled up together. Garrus pressed his forehead to Rhea’s, nuzzling her as he held her tight. Of all the good things to come from early retirement, these moments were his favorite.
“I love you,” he said, just as he had every day since reuniting with her after everything that had happened. He refused to waste a chance to let her know how much she meant to him.
“I know,” she teased, kissing the faded scars on the right side of his face. She loved those scars, the dull marks a constant reminder that he was alive and safe with her and that they'd be safe together. “I love you too.”