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Archer was running through Citadel alleyways, his feet pounding on the ruined walkway as he ran for his life from the twisted husks that the geth had turned other people into. His breathing was haggard, and no matter how fast or how far he ran, the husks were right behind letting out their horrible, blood-curdling rasping screams.

He fell as one of them caught up to him, tackling him to the ground. Archer tried to fight the twisted creature off but none of his punches fazed it, its skeletal head snapping at him. He screamed for help but nothing but a croaking whisper would escape his throat.

Archer bolted awake with a scream. He panted, quickly looking around the dark bedroom and saw nothing. He looked down at himself, noticing his arms surrounded by mass effect fields, he dissipated them and laid back down. He rolled over to cuddle up against Vask but felt nothing but an empty bed.

A hollow feeling ached in his chest as he looked at the empty space next to him. He missed the krogan despite still being angry at him, and felt some disappointment that the large alien hadn’t snuck into bed to be with him after Archer kicked him out of the apartment.

He reached over and grabbed the sheets from the empty side of the bed and hugged them to his chest. They’d been together for two years and Vask was still in denial about who he was. Archer had been so patient but he was starting to feel the strain. Tears stung his eyes, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait for Vask to come to terms with himself, and he was scared it would be soon.

He covered his face with hands and shook his head, tears falling down his face. That wasn’t true, they’d been through worse situations than a fight about sexuality.

He checked the time on his omni-tool and groaned, it wasn’t much longer until he had to wake up for work. He dismissed the alarm before it could go off and rolled out of bed, making his way to the bathroom.

His shower was quick, he was used to taking short showers because of water rationing that was part and parcel of living on a space station. Archer looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, focusing particularly on his scars. The scar on his left side from when the turian thug shot what felt like a century ago, the scar on his left bicep from where he was shot by the geth, and the newest set on his right shoulder that intersected with the large ropey scar that he had since he was born.

He gingerly traced his fingers over them, the image of the husk, and the pain it inflicted on him as its hand slashed at him still fresh on his mind. His hand started shaking and he pulled his hand away, closing his eyes and trying to block out the image of the screeching, skeletal looking husk of a human.

He looked back at himself in the mirror, breathing hard and trying hard not to hyperventilate. He looked from the scar left by the husk on his shoulder to the one on his bicep left by the geth. He realised that if hadn’t met Vask that he would’ve died in the geth’s attack on the Citadel. He would’ve more than likely joined the many other humans impaled on those metallic spikes and turned into the very same thing that attacked him.

He felt bile rise in his throat at the thought. He shook his head, banishing the thought, and focused on the positive, the fact that meeting Vask saved his life. He couldn’t throw away everything they had together just because the krogan was still in denial. He could work on it with him, it would just take a more hands on approach. He dried off and got ready for work.

***

The walk to the main district exit was largely uneventful, only the occasional coughing alien. More than occasional, actually. People had been getting sick in his district for the past couple weeks and it seemed to be getting worse, with there even being a passed out turian on the ground.

Archer rested a hand on his holstered pistol. He had a bad feeling that he may run into looters who’d take advantage of the easy pickings. When he reached the exit, he was greeted with Blue Suns mercs who aimed their rifles at him.

“Stop!” yelled the merc, a helmeted turian, “This entire district is under quarantine until the plague has run its course.”

“Quarantine?” Archer asked, stepping forward, “I need to get to work.”

The turian shot at Archer’s feet, making him yell out in shock.

“No one gets in or out until the plague is gone,” yelled the merc, “Step any closer and I will shoot you.”

“Okay, okay,” Archer said, holding his hands above his head, “I’m leaving. You fucking lunatic.”

Archer backed off, keeping his hands above his head until the mercs were out of sight. Once he was out of sight, he turned and ran back to his apartment to hole up as long as he could and protect it from any possible looters.

He skidded to a halt and pressed up against a wall when he reached a food court, hearing shouting.

“We’re not responsible for it,” someone pleaded, “I swear!”

“Shut up, human,” replied someone. A batarian Archer found out as he peeked around the corner. “We know humans are spreading the plague.”

Archer watched the scene unfold, the human was sprawled out on the floor heavily beaten, surrounded by a group of 7 batarians.

The human spat out a glob of bloodied spit, “We’re not. Try asking the vorcha. More and more of them have shown up since people started getting sick.”

“Enough lies,” said another batarian, pulling out a pistol and shooting the human in the head.

Archer let out a yell of shock and ducked back behind the wall.

“There’s someone here,” said one of the batarians, “Fan out.”

“Shit. Fuck.” Archer said under his breath, pulling out his pistol. There were too many for him to take on his own. He only managed against the batarians at work because they just wanted to intimidate him, this group wanted to kill.

He brought up his omni-tool and called Vask, and peaked around the corner again, picking out the closest batarian and firing his gun.

The batarians immediately fired back, forcing Archer back behind the wall. The call to Vask finally got through.

“What?” growled Vask. “You made it pretty damn clear that-“

Archer let out a yelp as a gunshot got too close to his face for comfort. He leant back around the wall and threw a biotic blast at the offending batarian, sending him careening into a wall and knocking him out.

“Where are you?” Vask asked.

“The food court nearest to the main district exit,” Archer yelled, ejecting a heat clip and reloading another.

The call was immediately ended from Vask’s end once Archer spoke.

Archer peeked back around the wall before immediately recoiling as another shot narrowly missed his head. He wasn’t a merc, he didn’t carry countless heat clips on him. Just one in his pistol and a spare, so he had to conserve his remaining shots, and move to a better position to wait until Vask got there.

Going through the food court would be the fastest but he couldn’t risk going through the food court proper. Even if he threw a barrier up around himself, he’d get shot to pieces the moment he came out of cover.

Archer looked behind him from where he came. There had to be some service area the food court workers used to access the shops. He quickly made his way back until he found the door he was looking for.

Before he could force it open, it opened on its own, revealing a batarian who had a similar idea to use the back area. Archer immediately threw a stasis field around the batarian, who had tried to bring his rifle up on Archer.

Archer stumbled past the frozen alien clutching his head in pain from concentrating on keeping the batarian like that. Once past the batarian, Archer brought his pistol up, dropped the stasis, and shot the batarian in the back of the head.

His headache intensified briefly behind his left eye, he wiped away the pained tears to see them stained with blood.

“At least I didn’t pass out this time,” Archer panted to himself. He felt he still might need to get checked out anyways. There was a clinic not too far away from their apartment that he could always go to. He might get shot by the doctor, though. But that was the case for everything in Omega.

Archer slowly made his way down the service corridor, pistol pointing the way in case he ran into any more batarians who had the same idea again. Everything was silent in the food court outside. It wouldn’t be too much longer until the batarians realised that Archer had moved to a better position, or the comrade they sent to flank him was dispatched. If they hadn’t already.

Gunfire resumed and Archer immediately dropped to his knees, swinging his pistol behind him and then back to his front, seeing the corridor still empty of people as the gunfire outside continued. A certain pattern of gunfire leapt out to him. It wasn’t the continuous, one after the other of a rifle, or singular of a pistol, it was multiple shots all at once.

“Vask,” Archer realised and took off running down the hall, turning into the first door he saw.

Seeing the foodcourt from his position in a food stall Archer couldn’t see Vask but he could hear him, his roars of rage, and shotgun ringing out across the court. Archer couldn’t see Vask but he could but he could see a batarian taking shelter from his boyfriend’s onslaught but hadn’t yet noticed him, too focused on the furious krogan who had suddenly shown up.

Archer threw an arm out and lifted him into the air with his biotics, took aim with his pistol but missed as the batarian was flung away from the force of Vask’s shotgun blast.

Archer vaulted over the food stall’s counter and sprinted over to where the batarian was sheltered. He looked over the rest of the food court and found it littered with batarian bodies. Vask made quick work of the hit squad. Only a couple batarians were left and they both looked ready to retreat.

The pair were too focused on Vask to notice Archer who took that to his advantage, blasting one of the pair with a biotic throw, sending him careening over their cover and leaving him open to Vask, who had shot him dead before he touched the ground.

The remaining batarian finally lost the last of his nerve and ran from the food court.

Archer let him leave and ran over to where Vask was shooting from, calling out, “Vask! It’s me. Don’t shoot!”

“I know it’s you, moron,” wheezed Vask from his cover.

Archer reached where Vask was, saying, “Well, excuse me for not wanting to get shot from that horrid gun of y-OH GOD!”

Archer saw Vask slump behind his cover, clutching his shotgun and covered in blood.

“It’s not mine,” Vask said.

“Batarians don’t bleed orange,” Archer snapped, crouched down trying to find the worst of the damage to put pressure on. “Where were you hit the worst?”

Vask pushed Archer’s orange-stained hands away, grumbling, “Stop it. Someone will see.”

“I don’t care,” Archer said, grabbing Vask’s pushing hands. “Come on, Let’s get home. I don’t have any medi-gel on me and we need to get your armour off to treat you anyway.”

Archer smirked as he helped Vask up, “Funny, me getting you out of your armour is usually a bit more saucy.”

“I said stop,” Vask growled, standing up and leaning lightly on the human.

“And I said I don’t care,” Archer said, putting Vask's arm around his shoulder, shuddering at the feeling of the alien blood dripping down into his shirt. “People are going to find out about us and you have a choice. Have it be on your own terms, or Life will decide a time for you, and it won’t be a convenient time either.”

“I’d rather it not happen at all,” Vask grumbled as he started limping forward.

“That’s not how it works. Now pick up the pace, before scavengers come to pick at the bodies.” Archer said, guiding the wounded krogan, seeing multiple vorcha already skulking around the edges of the wrecked food court.

The walk home was longer than it normally was for Archer, having to help drag the injured Vask home to their apartment. He would’ve used his biotics, but Vask found it humiliating to be carried around using them, even when in private.

Their front door slid open and the pair walked inside, Archer leaving Vask propped up against the wall. “Stay there and strip off your armour. I need to get the first aid kit.”

Archer walked off to the kitchen hearing Vask’s Blood Pack armour pieces being loudly dropped onto the floor before adding, “And stay away from the couch, or you’re fucking cleaning it.”

Archer returned with the first-aid to Vask, who was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, and half of his armour's undersuit peeled off, exposing his bloodied torso.

He sat down on the floor with the alien and started soaking a gauze in alcohol when Vask chuckled, “You got me out of my armour. Just like you wanted.”

With a scowl, Archer pressed the alcohol-soaked gauze against Vask’s orange-bloodied hide, making the krogan draw in a quick inhale of breath, quickly deflating any excitement Vask was starting to have.

“You’re wrong if you think I’ve forgiven you,” Archer said with a frown, gently cleaning the orange blood from his boyfriend’s body.

“You’re still angry about that?” winced Vask.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry about that,” Archer snapped, tossing the orange-stained gauze to the floor and soaking a fresh one in alcohol.

“You don’t want to be seen in public with me,” Archer said, scowling, gently wiping away more of the blood and making the larger alien wince and growl in pain, “But your tune changes the moment you’re in private with me.”

“I’m-“ Vask started to say before Archer interrupted him.

“Don’t,” Archer snapped, dark energy briefly pulsed along his forearms as he harshly pointed at the large krogan, “Don’t fucking say ‘you’re not gay’. It’s an excuse and you fucking know it.”

Archer returned to his work, discarding the now orange gauze and shuffling over to Vask’s other side with a new one. The other side now cleaned up.

“It hurts,” Archer said, gingerly cleaning a large gunshot wound on the side of Vask’s chest, the worst injury he got saving Archer from the food court. “It hurts having you treat me like this. Are you ashamed of me?”

“No,” Vask said softly.

“Then why do you keep treating me like this?” Archer yelled, tears stinging his eyes, "It hurts.”

Archer kept to his work, slowly cleaning away the last of the orange blood from Vask’s chest when he felt something wet drop onto the back of his hand. He looked at it, the tear already rolling down his wrist. His hand was too far away from his face for the tear to be his.

Archer looked up to see the source, a small trail of them falling down Vask’s large face, hanging off his chin before dropping down onto his large chest.

“I’m sorry,” Vask said with a shaky voice.

He didn’t know what to say, not wanting to make the situation worse. He was shocked, Archer had never seen Vask cry before. He wasn’t even sure that krogan could cry, and that they showed sorrow in some other, alien way. Archer thought it best not to say anything, he pulled the first-aid kit over to him and looked through it.

“We only have enough medi-gel to heal the worst of it,” Archer said, pulling the packs of medi-gel out and turning on his omni-tool to properly apply it. “We’ll have to rely on your species’ endurance for the rest, and hope none of us get injured before the quarantine lifts so we can restock.”

“We should have enough food to last you a couple weeks if it’s rationed properly,” Vask said, sighing in relief as Archer applied the medi-gel to the large gun shot on the side of Vask’s chest.

“Me?” Archer said, applying the rest of the medi-gel to the other smaller wounds. “What about you?”

“I can rely on the nutrients in my hump,” Vask said, standing up after Archer finished applying the medi-gel. Lifting his arm so Archer could wrap his chest in a bandage. “Last I checked, you humans can’t last more than three days without food.”

“Three days is water,” Archer said as he tied off the bandage. “It was, like, ten without food.”

“Still nowhere near as long as us krogan can last,” Vask said, rolling his shoulder.

“And you needing to rest up and heal won’t reduce that?” asked Archer.

“Not by too much,” replied Vask.

“Good, then rest up on the couch.” Archer said, walking off to the kitchen. “You’re not sleeping on the bed.”

“But you already cleaned up the blood.” Said Vask.

“It’s not because of the blood,” said Archer, looking through the fridge to see what food would have to be eaten first.

***

Archer was roused from his nap from the sheets around him shifting. A large weight was slowly trying to settle onto the bed. Vask slowly snuck into bed, Archer letting him until he felt an arm slowly drape around his side.

“Nuh uh,” Archer mumbled. “Couch.”

Vask let a soft grumble of disappointment and slowly rolled out of the bed, sitting on the side for a while as Archer slowly drifted back to sleep.

Vask started to slowly lay back down when Archer said, more clearly, "Couch.”

Vask grumbled again before standing up and leaving the room, leaving the bed to Archer.