Sparatus peeked in the medical shuttle before he snuck inside, listening out for any surprises as he made his way to the cargo section in the back. On his back was the red haired child, her small arms wrapped desperately around his neck, her legs around his rib cage. He knelt down next to a crate, directing her to sit on it. And chose to stay on the floor as he spoke.
"Is it just your feet that hurt? Are your hands painful too?"
She looked down to her hands, still clutching at the metal slide, which was stained with a mixture of blue and red, the areas in which they touched becoming a deep sickly purple.
"It's okay. You can keep hold of them. Why don't you put them around your neck?"
She nodded so softly, it was like she had barely moved. She placed the chain around her neck.
"Good. Can I have a look?"
"Okay."
Her voice was so meek that he just wanted to hold her. He feared that such an action could be misconstrued, however. He instead took hold of the base of one of his gloves.
"I need to get a proper looking. I need to take off my gloves."
"Okay."
He removed each of the gloves off slowly, glancing up to her when he showed his first set of black, razor sharp talons. To his amusement, she looked on with wonder. He took her hand in his, her own tucked in the dip of his palm, even with her fingers stretched she was far from touching the edge.
He reached a supply unit with his long arm, grabbing two canteens of water, followed by clean cloths and bandages. He unscrewed of the canteens and past it to her. He was unsure what of to make of the fact that she only sipped the bottle. Was she disguising her thirst or had she found water of her own?
With the other canteen, he held some folded cloth to the top as he tilted the container, wetting it but not leaving it damp. He gently cleaned her cuts and burns.
Mindoir had so much potential. Rich soil, a plentiful supply of water, and the government of earth were majorly supporting the development as it was rumoured to be practically riddled with Element Zero. It had been mined for the most part, but it was rooted in the land. And biotic abilities, while new to the human race, were a very valuable asset, especially those made so from exposure before birth.
Now it lay in ruins. Life here would be difficult, but not impossible. But for Shepard, the scars were too deep. Maybe she would become even stronger from being here, and maybe she grow to be a walking wreck of a human being. And if the blue pulses that radiated from her hands when he tired to convince her to return, were any indication. She was a biotic. An asset, not a child.
All Sparatus knew was that this little girl had asked for his help, begged for a better life with her forest eyes. And if he could get her somewhere better then he would.
Sparatus would forever question himself why he thought what he did was a good idea. But in that very moment, looking at the water glinting in her eyes, he remembered a human prisoner of war antagonising him about the injury the man had sustained to his leg. Laughing, and asking if the turian wanted to kiss it better.
Once Shepard's first hand was clear, Sparatus leant forward and placed his mouth plates to the largest cut.
Before he could pull away, Shepard's small fingers curled around his chin. Her body slumped forward, onto his plated head, her free arm once again sliding around his neck. He moved to rest his forehead on her shoulder, snaking his arms around her fragile rib age, and pulled her small soft body flush again his large, cold armoured one.
"You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
"Why are you alive?" the young girl demanded, switching from holding the stolen gun dangerously close to her head, to pointing it at Shepard. "Why aren't you-why aren't you like her? Broken. Fit only to dig and carry."
Shepard could feel an unbearable tightening knot in her gut. Guilt. She was filled with it, and not just because she was lucky enough to escape the Batarain slavers. She got another chance, raised by an inexperienced but amazing father. While this young woman was left captive, to try and put her master's bloodied bodies back together when the alliance came to save her.
"For a while, I was broken. I lost my whole family, Talitha. My friends, my childhood. I had to pull myself up and keep going."
"You lost your mummy and daddy but you don't dig and carry. You stand up. She wishes she could stand up."
Shepard took a step forward, standing right before the young woman. "You made yourself strong. You are strong. You just need to let the masters go. Meet people, find people to love and care for. Being with them makes you even stronger."
What would have happened to her had she fled the moment her feet touched the Citadel all those years ago?
"So, what happens to the..."
"Duct rats? Illness, suffocation, and everything else," the c-sec officer spoke. "The smart ones last but with no education, they're only going to go one way."
Above the two turians, stood a dark figure in a long black coat, on the crisscrossed mental flooring of the catwalk, resting his folded arms on the railing. In all the time he had spend in Citidel, he had never seen the formal turian in the Zekera ward until last week, now he seemed to be there everyday.
He was a growing politician, not a bad person, not an overly good one either. But his interest in the unfortunate was always good to see, the children most of all. Which many pretended did not exist.
He glanced around, looking for any hidden paparazzi, or some other ulterior motive. Someone that seemed out of place, or was acting unusual. He found both when he spotted a human girl. She was small, a good hand full of years before becoming a teenager.
She sat by a fish tank, staring dully into the water. She seemed lost. Her clothing was expensive but the colours did not blend, nor did the shoes match her outfit. Like her parents let her decide, or just plain did not know what they were doing. And she was holding clasped hands to her chest. Clearly the item hanging from the chain around her neck was special to her.
It was times like this, that he missed his own child. Which might very well have gone towards why he darted across the platform and dropped down beside her, with such grace that no one would have questioned his sudden appearance. Had he been a more common species he would have completely blended in, but alas, a drell was not an everyday occurrence.
"Do you like fish?"
Shepard tensed, turning to view the strange green skinned alien sitting a couple feet away.
"The planet I was born on is largely ocean. Full of fish. The sight of water always relaxes me."
"I like the fish," her eyes flickering over his shoulder.
"Do you like all animals?"
She nodded softly, her glance meeting his. "My parents used to have a farm."
The use of her wording and the way she tensed, turning away, was all the evidence he needed to understand that this farm was not the only thing that was gone. "I see. Do you have anyone here with you?"
Her eyes once again shot over his shoulder. He followed her vision. No one was looking her way, and no one really stood out overly. The two turians he had been listening in on just moments ago were directly in his sights but he paid them no mind...until he turned back to the little girl.
Between the cracks of her fingers, he saw the silver coloured item. He did not know what it was meant to be, but as she stuffed it under her shirt, to hide it from his searching eyes, he caught writing. Scrip from a language of Palavan.
"Do you want to live here? On the Citadel?"
"It's pretty. Safe," she mumbled.
He hummed. He knew the truth. For those who had money, it was. Without money, work, family, it was a another giant city to get lost in. Most of the duct rats ended up here from parents leaving them to numb their guilt of never wanting them, fully believing that their lives would be greatly improved.
He had seen this happen many times. His holo of one of the many lost souls felt heavy in his pocket.
The drell heard a sudden rapid sequence of soft clicks, the familiar sound of thick turian claws tapping against the inside civilians shoes. His dark eyes met that that of the formal turian, emeralds swamped by black fog meeting bright clear malachite.
His body was hunched, orbs unconsciously meeting the young human; filled with concern.
The drell stood, moving to stand before the turian, just out of hearing range of the human in the crowned area.
"You thought you could dump her here. But life will be hard for her," he took another step. "You should take her to the human embassy."
The turian twitched, his breath sharp. Any shock of discovery he felt was covered by a much stronger emotion. "So they can dump her on earth, to live on the streets?"
The drell blinked both sets of eyelids. The turian was right, Earth was not much better. But how personally he was taking this topic was interesting. He cared for the human.
"I take it she has no family."
The turian sighed, his head bobbing. There was no point denying it. "I am trying to find her a new home. And I've already looked into the embassy. I would be better off shouting in the street. Even charities are a lengthy process. Unless I tell them she's a biotic, but I can't be sure what life she would have," his eyes went over the drell's shoulder. "She deserves more than that."
The assassin stood there for a moment, mind processing all that he had heard. "You really want to help the girl."
The turian nodded, his stance strong and defensive. "I'll look after her for as long as it takes."
"She should be with someone who cares for her."
Shepard observed the alien and Sparatus as they talked. She watched as her guardian's eyes flew wide, his upper body moving back, and for a second, their eyes met.
There was something there, something her young mind would soon forget, but the one thing she remembered, was the feeling of safety. That one way or another. Everything was going to be okay.
Sparatus walked from the wards, Shepard lead so he could watch her. She walked along the other side of the street, as she had been instructed beforehand.
A turian with a human was an odd sight to see after all. Odd enough to warrant a c-sec officer's attention. More so when some of them was not an adult.
It was not until they had made it to the parking lot, safely hidden in Sparatus' hover car, that the turian spoke. "You could live with me."
Shepard raised her head. "For how long?"
"For as long as you want," Sparatus underwent his basic checks, before releasing all the breaks, and allowing the vehicle to lift from the ground. "My house is large. I would have to home school you. And most of all, we would have to continue pretending we don't know each other. But if you are okay with that. Then you are welcome to live with me. And I'll do all I can to help-"
Sparatus glanced down to the pressure on his wrist, to see little human fingers sat on his silk sleeve, only just covering the width of the thinnest part of his arm. He took one naked hand from the wheel and placed in on hers, completely enclosing her in his warm grasp, his clawed fingers spread out so not to cut her.
He had contemplate taking her in himself. He had looked her after for the past week. Filled his cupboards with as many human foods as he could find because he had no idea what everything was. Gave her his bed, as it was the only one in his apartment. Only to wake up to find her curled up in his arm chair, next to the sofa he was sleeping on. He tired to convince her to use the bed, but she always snuck back.
He had brought her films for them to watch together, a bundle of soft earth animal toys. The money spent was all worth it to see her smile. Even when he was confused with all the strange noises she started making. Which he guessed to be the sound effects of the animals. She had laughed at the look on his face. And would every so often produce a new sound just to leave him frazzled. Her laugh was adorable.
He had never thought of himself as the parenting type until he had snapped at the drell, that he cared for Shepard. He shocked himself by just how much he really cared for her. Even though she confused him, and he wore out from all the worries that plagued his mind. She felt like a fixture of his life. A stability, like his family had once been, before illness and lack of connection took that from him.
She was his little girl.
