Airy Forms of Flitting Change
A story was shared and an understanding was formed between turian and human—after a fashion. This might just be the beginning of an excellent friendship... or an awkward inter-species camaraderie. Written for the Science (Fan)Fiction Day Challenge. Happy Birthday, Isaac Asimov!
If you ship them like I do, you can read this as a shipping fic. Otherwise, this is not really romantic.
Today, they went down to a rocky planet called Eletania, practically climbed mountains (and jumped off them), chased down pyjaks, got shot at by geth, and then knocked out by a weird prothean artifact that gave them... visions. In short, it was a long day. And for Garrus, it was a longer day still as he was responsible for the maintenance and repairs of the Mako, which was especially banged up today as Shepard's driving and the terrain (but mostly Shepard's driving) had not been kind to the poor tank. He was held hostage in the med-bay for around two hours so Doctor Chakwas could extract the shrapnel he got from a nasty sneaking geth. He would have to make up for that delay with his sleeping hours tonight.
The ship had gone into the night cycle hours ago, replacing the many crews of the day shift with a handful of quieter skeleton crew responsible during the night cycle. The cargo bay was empty save for him and Chief Williams, who always stayed late. He suspected she was wanting for work, and thus overcompensated by busying herself—after all, none of the ground team members were incapable of taking care of their own weaponry, except for Liara, who was also incapable of shooting anything straight these days. To be fair, her biotic abilities were exemplary and she was a fast learner, considering that she barely touched a weapon before in her life. Williams, being the gunnery chief, was saddled with the responsibility of mentoring Liara with her aim and pistol maintenance, but other than that there was little else she had to do. Inventory, general maintenance, modifying and repair of guns usually would be enough task to fill one's time, but the Commander preferred to send three-man teams instead of platoons, and one of the team regular was a krogan mercenary who refused to let anyone touch his guns.
Yet somehow the Chief was always busy, or at least seemingly so. And since the Commander seemed to be satisfied with her work, what Williams did was hardly his concern. He knew she didn't fully trust the non-human members of the crew, but that kind of prejudice was common among humans and turians, considering recent history. Garrus and Williams worked with cold professionalism on the battlefield. Off the field, he did his job and she did hers. That was the end of it.
But not today it seems, as he could hear her footsteps approaching him. Garrus pushed himself out from under the Mako's belly with a grunt. "Williams. Something you need?"
While every morning Williams would have her hair tightly and neatly bound in a bun at the nape of her neck, Garrus had noticed that during late nights she was more disheveled. Right now, errant strands of hair framed her face. She had a smile on her lips, but it was strained. She tucked a stray lock behind her ear. It immediately fell again in front of her left eye, and she sighed. "How's the leg?" she asked, gesturing unnecessarily to his wounded leg.
"Should be fine. The good doctor insisted I stayed off-duty for two days, but it really isn't as bad as it looks like." It also helped that he was practically swimming in painkillers, but he didn't say that part. She dragged him into cover when his leg was busted—to make her feel guilty would be ungrateful of him. "Thanks."
"We're teammates. I save your ass, you save mine, we call it even and then we continue pickpocketing pyjaks on Skipper's orders." She was right, of course, but the nonchalant tone she used was a contrast to the near-panicked warning she yelled before jumping to pull him into cover back there on Eletania. Both were also a contrast to the clipped, professional tone she usually used when talking to him or Wrex.
He let none of those observations show on his expression. Instead, Garrus chuckled. "And poking random prothean artifacts," he added.
She returned his grin. "Yeah."
"So, ah..." Garrus gestured to the Mako with the wrench still in his hand, "I should probably, you know."
"Oh! Yep, you should. I was just... checking before I turn in."
Garrus nodded slowly. She never checked on him. In fact, other than occasionally shooting him glances he couldn't decipher, Williams pretty much ignored his existence in the cargo bay. "Right. Good night."
She passed him a more muted smile. "Night."
Garrus was halfway back under the Mako when her footsteps returned. When he slid out from under the tank, she was kneeling beside him. He half-sat, cocking his head to one side in question.
"Actually, um. Can I help? It's late, you're injured... No, sorry, I know you can do your job but I feel horrible for being a xenophobic ass all the time and ignoring you and being suspicious and- what I mean is, I want to help. Please." Her eyebrows were pinched together—distress, his mind supplied absently—and her fingers were entwined on her lap. His visor showed that her face temperature was slightly higher than the rest of the body—had her skin tone been lighter and the cargo bay less dim, he was sure he would have been able to see all her blood rush to her face.
Garrus did not know what to make of it.
What brought this on? In hindsight, since he was shot and she rescued his limping ass, she had been less cold and more... awkward. Friendly, but awkward. And not that he was complaining about it, far from that. Williams was a valuable teammate, a skilled soldier, and he wouldn't say no to begin an actual friendship with her. Still, what triggered this? It was hardly the first time she covered him in the battlefield. He inclined his head in an obliging nod nonetheless. "I could use some help."
They ended up lying side by side under the Mako's belly, Williams holding a flashlight for him and handing him tools and Garrus trying to not sigh every time he had to tighten yet another bolt or nut the Commander had somehow knocked loose in her crazy cliff-jumps. He would have to check the eezo capacitor next after this, and then the guns before he could finally catch an hour or two of rest.
Already, the exhaustion was catching up to him. It didn't help that they stayed silent the whole time, except when he asked for a tool or another from her. He was mulling over asking her something completely inane and conversational to break the lethargic silence when she said, "I was thirteen when Mindoir happened."
Well. It seemed that today she was intent on surprising him on every turn.
It took him a few seconds to figure out what she was referring to, however. When he finally caught on, he was about to offer a sympathetic remark—because what else could he say, when she brought up such a tragic event—but then she continued, "I wasn't there, of course. But the news was everywhere. And I thought, when I saw the horrible footage of what remained," she took a deep breath, "it could have been any colony. It could have been my colony."
Garrus tilted his head to see the profile of her face, wanting to ask her why she was telling him all this and then having the question die before he even opened his mouth. Williams was facing up, face stiff like the face she wore to battle. This probably was a battle for her too, in some way he had yet to find out.
"You know," Williams continued, "I used to hate the Alliance. Around eleven, twelve, I was smart enough to see what the Alliance did to my dad just for being General Williams' son. You know of him."
Even among turians, General Williams was a well-known name. Almost as famous as Admiral Kastanie Drescher, even. "Ah, yes. He was the one who did that strategic retreat."
Williams scoffed. "They like to call it surrender, not strategic retreat. My dad never rose above Serviceman Third Class. Still, the military is in our family's blood, but I was so sure I wouldn't join the Alliance. And then Mindoir happened, and I thought it could have been our colony, our family, and the Alliance was the only one helping those colonists. So I enlisted when I turned eighteen, and later found out that they saw me only as a Williams and I hated them again, for a while. Garrison to garrison to garrison. I never actually worked with aliens, you know. And I never blamed the turians for what happened to dad or me, but after a few years it got hard working for an employer you hate, and a little easier to be cynical about people you never got the chance to work with, who looked different than you, who you only know through exaggerated stereotypes your xenophobic colonial workmates believe."
Garrus cleared his throat. "I understand."
This time, she tilted her head towards him and now they were side by side, face-to-face, and in the darkness he could see the light of his visor falling over one of her eyes. Somewhere along her story, he realized, they had both put down their tools. Very quietly, she whispered, "Yeah?"
He broke eye contact before he drowned in her dark glinting eyes. "Sure," he said. "Trust me, it's pretty similar with turians. Before I joined C-Sec, all I knew was that humans were all selfish power-hungry incompetent upstarts who couldn't shoot straight."
The human beside him snorted. "I hope that opinion has changed."
"I don't know, if your ambassador is supposed to be a representation to humankind, I'd say that stereotype is accurate."
"Fuck you, Vakarian," she said, but her tone was light.
They were quiet after that, repairing the suspension and wheel axles without any more personal confessions. It was a lighter silence, however, one less strained than the one before. When he was finished, he slid out and stood up, stretching sore muscles. She followed soon after, and when he offered his hand to help her stand, she took it.
The eezo capacitor was mercifully serviceable, and maintenance of the Mako guns took the two of them less than half an hour. When they were finished, they were both covered in grease.
"I'll just tidy up a little here, shouldn't take long. Go ahead and turn in," he offered.
She stretched her arms and back—this sent his half-asleep mind to some interesting places he probably would explore later—and yawned. "Yeah, I guess I should."
She was by the elevator door when the question from earlier resurfaced. "Hey, Williams?"
The elevator door opened and she stepped in, but held the door open. "Yeah?"
"Why did you- I mean, what brought this," he gestured to nothing, "on?"
Williams tilted her head in consideration. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I guess I had fun today. That thing with pyjaks? Crazy, kind of idiotic, but fun. Then of course there was the geth, and when you were shot I just didn't think. I just did what I did out of reflex, battlefield adrenaline and that. But when you were in the med bay... I actually worried. I don't know why or how. But now I guess you're not just 'that turian' anymore, but... a teammate. A friend?" She offered him a tentative smile.
"Friend. I like that."
"Good." She nodded. "I suck at words—that's why I like poems because they're so good at saying things—and it's been fucking awkward, so it better damn end up in something good. Night, Garrus."
And with that, she closed the elevator door and left him all alone in the cargo bay as he said, "Good night, Ashley."
Might continue this as a series of oneshots. Thoughts?