"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive." Iris- GooGoo Dolls
Chapter 4- Aftermath
"Keep 'em coming, and don't stop until I tell you…" I told the batarian behind the bar. He silently refilled my shot glass with some disgusting excuse for turian whiskey, which I downed before the bottle could hit the counter. Signaling for another, I allowed the atmosphere of lower Afterlife to beat around me, the ebb and flow of music and voices drowning out any chance at coherent thought that remained after the alcohol. Normally I would have been on edge at the loss of my senses, but not tonight. Tonight, I would get drunk in memory of old friends; or perhaps in spite of their memories.
The decision to come to Omega was one that had come both slowly and all at once. I had wandered back to my flat after the confrontation with my father, wishing that all the packing was complete so I could get out of that damned utopia of a Citadel. I had sold most of my belongings, keeping my weapons and armor. Especially dear to me was Shepard's old HMWSR, a parting gift when she left me. It'll be your backup when I'm not there, Garrus. I don't like leaving you at the mercy of those barefaced idiots on the Council, she had said. I still smile at the sound of her voice using a turian phrase. But there were still small incidentals to gather, and I was going to have to send my refusal letter to the said idiots. They had taken the time to consider me as a candidate, and no amount of anger could remove a lifetime of conditioning to respond in kind.
But the hesitation was there, since I wasn't sure what to tell them. The truth, that their blatant disregard for everything Shepard and her crew had fought for made me unable to ever work for them, didn't seem to be the answer Shepard would have wanted me to give them. She had always tolerated their disapproval, had even sacrificed human lives to save them… and they were pretending to mourn her while spitting on her memory. It sickened and angered me, and I wasn't sure how to get around that to do the right thing like she'd always pushed me to. In the end, I'd sent a barely civil note informing them that I would be unable to meet them for evaluation, with no explaination. They could accept it, or go to hell, as Teandra had put it.
I arrived to the cheerful chime of waiting messages, and almost deleted them without reading before noting one sender: Tali. I allowed a brief pang of sadness to touch my soul, remembering that leaving the Normandy hadn't just meant leaving Teandra. The rest of the crew and I had gotten along with varying degrees of tolerance, but Tali had reminded me so forcefully of Mishta, my little sister, that I had instantly responded to her practical jokes in kind. Shepard had found this amusing, claiming she once knew a young girl on Earth much like Tali as well. The quarian had held a special place in both our hearts, and Shepard hadn't hesitated to give the girl the geth data she needed for her pilgrimage. In return, Tali had stayed on for a while longer, had been there when the Normandy went down… I opened the message
Hey Spir'ata,
I'm not sure what to say, other than there was nothing you could have done. Kaidan tried, wanted to stay and help her, and was ordered onto an escape pod without her. You know how she reacted when her orders were questioned, even by you.
Speaking of Kaidan, it was probably a good thing you weren't there for the aftermath, Garrus. Kaidan lost it, taking all his grief out on Joker, in a display that was even . It took all my ingenuity and Liara's mental control to keep Alenko from killing him. If that's what he thought Shepard would have wanted, he didn't know her at all. You pointing out how little he actually knew her would have turned that anger on you, and Keelah, I don't think a murder sentence would have done you any good right about now.
I'm heading back to the fleet, Garrus. I'm going home. It was a hard decision, but it seems like the best way for me to honor her memory is to put the information she gave me to good use. If you need me, you can always find me there. Just send me a message, and I'll get you onto the Flotilla somehow. Watch them try and stop me.
Tali
The short note brought home the extent of my wallowing. "Honor her memory…" I wasn't even trying to do that. I was a traitor to her. I was no better than Kaidan. I was, how had my father put it, no better than that scum on Omega, always looking out for their own best interests… I hated it when that ferazah was right.
So... Why the fuck not? I'd go to Omega, become a mercenary. I had the skills, and police work held a bitter taste for me…
Almost as bitter as the ninth straight shot of watered down whiskey burning it's way down my throat. I coughed but motioned for more, earning an admiring look from the bartender. I was glad Shepard couldn't see me, the conversation she and I had shared about alcohol coming to mind.
"Not going with the crew to party it up, little Spectre?" I asked the still figure at the mess table. She was wearing a form-fitting blue shirt over pants of a dark material Ashley called 'jeans.' When not in armor, this type of clothing had become commonplace for her. Watching Kaidan's reactions to how little it left to the imagination, I didn't have to wonder why. What I did wonder was why the whole crew was emptying into the Citadel for some R&R, and she wasn't tagging along to spend time with Kaidan like any normal mate. She looked up at me, auburn hair catching the artificial lighting as she examined my own casual attire. Our sparring match earlier in the day had wiped me of all need to do anything but hang around the ship, so I had volunteered to stay and let Joker have a chance at the Presidium girls.
"I don't think so, Garrus. Alcohol and I aren't the greatest of bedfellows. It dulls the senses, leaves you open to situations you should see coming a mile away. I don't have a problem with my crew drinking, but they should never expect me to partake." Her eyes looked tired, but her smile let me know she was enjoying the company. She pushed the datapad that had held her attention away, waving a hand at the seat opposite her in invitation. I obliged, sensing her mood. She went on, "I'm not keeping you from your own R&R, am I?"
"Not a chance. I've seen enough of the Citadel to last me a lifetime. I used to roust the criminals here, remember? Can't relax knowing the man next to me might be a red-sand dealer I screwed over at some point. Besides, that poor, lonely turian girl I might have met wouldn't have been pleased with my performance after the thrashing you gave me on the sparring mat earlier…" Shepard had pulled out some weird twist and kick motion that had me pinned to the mat in two seconds flat. Her gleeful laugh and dancing eyes were well worth the loss, I had reflected afterwards. She snorted, commenting, "That is ALSO a good reason for me to stay away from alcohol. I tend to be the 'fucking or fighting' type."
I tilted my head, unfamiliar with the term. Noting the unspoken question, she continued, "Another of my Earth sayings. Most humans hold their alcohol just fine. But there's an occasional one that responds by needing to either kill or screw the person nearest them. I tend towards the latter of the two, and I hate the loss of control." I considered the contemplative look on her face, the instinctive shame she associated with anything regarding sex, and decided to do something to lighten the mood.
"Don't feel bad, little spectre. The 'or' in that statement wouldn't even occur to a turian couple. Fighting is like the human equivalent of flirting for us. And considering how many turian soldiers there are…" She burst out laughing, realizing I had just accused my entire species of being eternally sexually frustrated. Her joy broke over me like a warm wave, and I wondered how I had ever gotten along without her to bolster me.
"Tell you what, Garrus. I have a couple of movies from early earth film-making. I was going to watch one tonight. Want to tag along? Two sober warriors making fun of waaay outdated special effects."
"You might have to stop to explain the references, but it worth a shot. What's it called anyway?"
The evil look on her face was lost on me at the time, "Oh, I think you'll find the main antagonist familiar, since I'm half convinced he's actually a horribly rendered turian. Movie's called Predator..."
My talons clenched around the shot glass, remembering the strange spiced rum Kaidan had dragged on the ship the night before we'd gone after Saren. Recalled the anger at herself Teandra had displayed on the sparring mat afterwards. She'd never come out and said it, but it was my belief Kaidan had tired of the flirting and moved things forward the only way he knew how. She'd consented, she had assured me after much pestering, but I had always hated the possessive way he watched her, and it only got worse after that night. At least I didn't have to worry about him anymore.
Coming out of my reverie, I noticed the bottle of whiskey was almost gone. I was deciding whether to just drink until I passed out at the bar when a voice I hadn't heard in what seemed a thousand years cut across my consciousness, bringing back memories of gunfire and brotherhood; of common enemies and never-ending support.
"Garrus Vakarian? No fucking way. What are you doing in this shit-hole? I heard you'd become some big hero or something." I turned to face the speaker, a turian whose tribal marking were as familiar to me as my own. My old comrade from basic, as well as more battles than I cared to count, stood before me. I was dumbfounded for a moment, convinced it was the alcohol playing tricks on me, before I finally responded with joy in my voice for the first time since Shepard's death:
"Holy fucking shit! Lantar Sidonis, how the fuck are you?"
