Early chapter. I have busier weekends than weekdays. It's the most ironic thing. Thanks for reading and reviewing! As well as adding me and/or my story to your lists. Much love.
Chapter 8
Intel was smooth and near seamless with Legacy to confirm and re-confirm everything Sidonis found out. It didn't take either of them long to recover from their injuries and within a week they both were on the field again, kicking ass, and taking names. They didn't actually see each other. She mostly left the coordinates of her Intel and left it for one of Archangel's team to pick up. Anything else was sent through proper comm channels with Erash's best firewalls. He never talked to her alone either, save for the impersonal mails he sent her about work.
But she checked in regularly, in a surprising show of camaraderie, she would update him on her status or send him a short one liner about how Aria was being a bitch or how she was going to sleep and not to bother her until a certain time. He didn't really understand the motivation behind these messages, and he never replied with anything of his own for the first few days. But then she sent him the one line about how an asari stripper proposed to her and promised to change her occupation and he had burst out laughing in the middle of a late night meeting and replied with, "As if you're the settling down type."
His team was partly skeptical about where he was getting his information, and a little perplexed at how often he looked at his omni-tool to read her messages (they only came at the start of the day and at the end, but Garrus found himself looking at old messages anyway). Sidonis was surprisingly all for the pseudo-friendship, anything that made their lives easier—he supposed Sidonis saw it as practical that they had a friend from T'loak's side, one that people were really considering as the asari's extension and sometimes daughter (though Rachel hated that).
The problem with the liaison of Archangel and Legacy didn't lie so much with the team but with Legacy herself.
Some two weeks since his broken leg, and seven months since Archangel had begun operations, less than half the team gathered: Melanis, Krul, Butler, Sensat, and himself. Erash was by the computers, keeping the channels clear and listening in on Beta team's status. They needed to do another operation while the team led by Sidonis was out. Another golden opportunity: taking out Blood Pack's leader, Garm, while Sidonis and the others hit a prime Blood Pack base.
"We'll need you to come with us on this one. We have about an hour before Beta team reaches their destination and is ready to move."
"I don't work with a team." She answered, her holo image barely a silhouette. Erash had patched her though to their HQ but she'd purposely blurred the visuals. He caught the movement of her shoulders: did she just shrug? Or was it a glitch? "I'm afraid I'll have problems following orders."
"And comprising is impossible because…?"
"It's not like you're paying me."
"Now you just sound like a merc."
"A mercenary?" She snorted. "Mercs are crude, violent. I'm an artist. And artists need commission. Aria asked me to do you one thing. And I asked you to choose: Intel or fieldwork. You chose and I delivered."
"Won't we be fine without Beta team?" Sensat interrupted. She sounded sweet but even Garrus noticed the tick above her eye. "They will be drawing most of their forces to them."
"Blood Pack is made up of a lot muscle, in other words, lots of krogan and vorcha who don't know when to die." Garrus hummed. "We have you to deal with them when they get too close which is good. But, if there's a way for them to not get close at all? Much better. Thus, an extra line of defense would make the plan sounder."
"Look," Legacy interjected. "If you need me for your plan then I think you're in way over your head. Didn't we discuss that you should take it easy for a while?"
"I don't think Archangel asked Aria's pet for advice." Melanis growled, her mandibles twitching upwards, the plates on her face tightening together.
Garrus thought it was the best time for him to intervene before Legacy chose to reply. "The time to strike would be now, since activity has been slow while I was recovering. They won't see it coming."
"Archangel, Garm has an army of vorcha. Even if you take down the ones at the base, there are two more bases approximately less than half a klick away. This isn't just high risk, it's a miscalculation. Withdraw your team and reconvene. Fight another day when the odds are higher and in your favor."
"Smaller forces have faced greater odds before. We've got this, Legacy. And if you're there, you'll be less worried."
"I'm afraid the answer is still no." She replied, voice crackling with the static while her image wavered and blinked in and out but her tone was clearly cold. "Let this be a lesson to you, Archangel. There are risks we should all avoid. Legacy out."
"Hmph, what does she know?" Melanis muttered, turning to Garrus. "Shall we get to it, boss?"
He nodded silently, lingering behind the Board Room before heading to the shuttle to hit Blood Pack's HQ. He gripped his rifle tightly, trying to get Rachel's voice and her warning out of his head.
The dreams had started again.
It always began now with the visions from the Prothean ruin, it wasn't even a Beacon but still it had sunk its teeth into her. There were so many dead. People that didn't need to die, she thought, there were always too many of them.
Then the other dreams came after, structured as they usually were.
She sat in a cell after Akuze, refusing to eat or speak to anyone. Every time she closed her eyes she saw her team die: crushed into meaty little pieces, partly eaten, their insides spilling over. When she returned, the Alliance gave her their condolences, their platitudes and locked her up in a cell so they could watch her. Officially, she'd been released and honorably dismissed but in truth, she was down the road to becoming stark raving mad.
Nothing Lor had said, what they had done and trained together, had prepared her for the responsibility of taking care of lives other than her own. Not any of the villa's simulations or training. She didn't know what to do, what to think— die, maybe? But she wasn't ready to die.
It was Hackett who came in then. He was a fresh faced, newly appointed Admiral at the time they first met and he had recruited her, but now he looked old and grey. She owed him a lot. He gave her the second chance no one had given her before, not since Lor, just one among all other things she still owed him and his family.
"Sir," She croaked from under the blankets, huddled and shivering.
She looked up at him, his eyes shining in the dark. She'd never been able to confirm if he was crying that day. "Shepard."
No response.
"It wasn't your fault, child. You did everything you could."
No response.
"Shepard?"
No response.
The silence crept on for minutes. Stretched taut in her dreams and memories until all he could do was stand in front of her, unmoving and patient. She thought then that it wasn't Hackett's fault. At least Hackett deserved more than just her silence.
She whispered back at last. "They died. They died because I wasn't ready."
"No." He answered quickly. "You were ready. They only had a fighting chance because you were there."
"But I failed." She whispered again. "And now, they're dead. They had families and friends. They shouldn't have died."
He sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, clasping it. She'd shivered at the contact though it wasn't cold. She could feel the warmth even through her blanket. Everything else was just so cold, everything but that hand.
"Shepard," He spoke softly. "The Alliance, no humanity, still needs you. What you were able to do in Akuze—it was nothing short of a miracle. The brass doesn't want to let you go just yet. They want you to lead another team."
She shook her head. "I can't, Hackett." She sobbed. "I can't."
"Shepard," His hand on her shoulder tightened. "You know more about being a leader than anyone of your rank. The group they're about to assign to you—no other soldier or marine will be able to teach them what you know. They don't have the wisdom, the skill, or a sliver of your courage and they definitely won't have the compassion. Only you can do this.
"I believe in you, Commander."
Despite Hackett's encouraging words and her own promotion, Shepard took a long time to get back on her feet. She still barely ate and even when she did she trained till she puked. She talked to the psychologist, or talked circles around her but that had helped in its own way.
When she met her new team, after almost half a year of rehabilitation later, they were standing side by side in a straight line. There were seven of them, all of them she had never seen before even at N-school. Hackett stood beside her, older and more tired. He spoke without the gentle tone he had used when she was still in her cell.
"Marines, you will no longer answer to the orthodox chain of command save your commanding officer and a few of the brass, including myself." He turned to her. "For the next six months you will know the ins and outs of your new profession from your commanding officer."
She stepped forward, towards them. "I'm Commander Shepard. Welcome to the Dominion, marines. From this day forward you will no longer exist."
She had wanted to be reintroduced to the seven faces again, but her omni-tool bleeped insistently, and she woke. It was zero-four-hundred hours Galactic Standard time, practically too early before anything should be happening—even crime.
She thought it was Aria, being bitchy again. But when a batarian spoke on the other line she froze at his words. "Legacy, boss took a bad hit. Our doctor can barely do anything but cauterize the wound. Any other doctor is suspect. Do you know anyone we can trust?"
She could hear a lot of yelling in the background, probably his team scattering for purchase. She liked their tech expert, Erash—as much as she could like someone who was a near stranger. He barely seemed to be affected by anything but at the same time he had to be worried. She doubted any of them had the capacity to tell him to call her.
She sighed through the comm, her bare feet padding towards the bathroom and holding her arm up so he could hear her. She washed the sleep off her face with the free hand and brushed her teeth. "Your team?"
"Bumps and bruises. All accounted for."
"Garm?"
"Boss almost had him when he chased him too far. Then the ugly vorcha came and he had to retreat."
She tried to hide her chuckle at Erash's expense, but if he noticed he didn't say anything about it. "Is he conscious?"
"Fades in and out."
"Mm. Where's the wound?"
"I don't know much about what part is what but— his gut? Somewhere near the—really skinny middle."
"Hah, it's bad then but he'll live. Stubborn bastard that he is." She began typing furiously at her omni-tool. She was already dressed in armor without Aria's insignia when he finished talking. She paused in her typing to put her black gloves, noting the color of the scars as a pale brown before responding again. "I'll call the doctor I know and tell him your boss is coming. I'll send the coordinates of his clinic to you and call for safe transport. ETA four minutes."
There was a pause. "You have HQ's coordinates?"
"It's my job to know."
Another pause. "I see. Please, then."
"No problem. Keep your boss lucid."
"Okay," He let out a long rush of breath. "Okay."
"He'll be fine, Erash. Tell the second-in-command. Sidonis, was it?"
"Yes. And okay," He breathed out again. A long suffering sigh of patience and strain he must have been holding while everyone else was panicking on his end of the line. "Yes. I'll tell him."
"Legacy out." She put the comm down and strode out of her apartment with her fingers back on her omni-tool and connecting to the good doctor. He answered, half asleep but sounding alert: "Legacy. Calling late again. Mortal injury so soon after last?"
"Dr. Solus," She sighed at the comm. "I'm calling in for another solid."
Garrus woke in a med bay.
Not many people were inside, but he could tell by the ones on the neighboring cots that most of them were sick or injured. People in unofficial, if not grimy uniforms, were flying about and chattering through a lot of medical jargon that he couldn't understand. The place was run down, though, and the medical equipment was outdated by at least a year.
Searching the room some more for his teammates, he spotted the familiar human figure of Rachel, legs crossed and nose buried in a magazine—wait, was she holding Fornax?
"Doctor," She said suddenly over her shoulder, mask in place. But he noticed her hair was cut short and layered. Strangely, it suited her more than her hair before—it looked more practical. "I think you're right. They're actually not genetically modified."
"I thought so. Asari mammary glands vary. Still all bigger than female human counterpart." A salarian doctor walked in, two glasses of water in hand. One he handed to Legacy who smiled with her eyes, her other hand still held the magazine. The salarian turned to face him. "Ah, awake." He placed the other glass on the bedside table next to Garrus's cot.
"You're—"
"Mordin Solus. Doctor. Attending physician. Legacy's," He paused first to consider, looking back at Rachel before she nodded, eyes bright. "Friend."
"I'm—"
"Garrus. Safest name to utter. Already figured out alias."
"My team—"
"Sent them home. Noisy. Disruptive. And they needed some sleep."
"And where am—"
"Residential Gozu District. Makeshift med bay. Safe." Mordin blinked twice. Garrus grumbled, glaring.
Legacy laughed softly. "You're not going letting him get much edgewise, are you, doctor?"
"Interrupted sleep I was actually enjoying. Entitled to it." He replied, lightly.
She dropped her mask and finished her water in a few gulps. "Doctor, aren't you too old for petty revenge?"
"Never too old to receive due payment." He nodded, probably amused inside but sure to not show it to Garrus. "Will be attending to the other patients across the hall. And, will tell Abrams he was wrong about asari."
Rachel didn't bother to hide that she was amused. "Of course, doctor. Thank you."
Solus blinked at Garrus a few more times before he turned and walked away. Rachel waited for him to leave before setting the magazine and her empty glass down.
"Should I even ask about the Fornax, Rachel?"
"It was of medical interest to Mordin." She rested her hands on her lap. "And his assistant claimed that the asari had a—what is 'boob job' in Galactic terms?"
"Right." He felt dizzier. "Appropriate conversation between medical professionals: talking about— those." He motioned at her general top area and felt awkward for it because now he was staring—even if he never understood the attraction but he still shouldn't stare because humans could be sensitive about those things. But Rachel just laughed breathily.
"Salarians have little interest in sex, Vakarian. Or, those." She mocked the way he did his motion and he laughed back.
"Thankfully. I don't know what I would do if you started explaining it to me. Or worse, showing me."
"Like I would give you a show." Her eyes brightened and there was a small smile on her face. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone tore my organs out through my chest. Otherwise, not so bad. My head is clear."
"Mordin decided to give you the weakest pain killers. Something about it helping you heal faster."
Garrus groaned. "And you believed him?"
"He has been my doctor for a good couple of years now." She grinned. "And he was so happy to see you suffer. I almost forgot he could be violent sometimes for someone so full of sense." She opened up her omni-tool. "Erash called me and said you needed medical help. Shall I call him to tell your team that you're awake?"
Garrus shook his head, no. "They should rest. And listen, you—" He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He saw Rachel looking at him, serene and without a trace of anger. None he could read, anyway. "I'm glad you aren't lording this over my head right now. I—pushed myself too hard there. But when I saw that Garm was all alone, that I could end him—"
"I probably would have done the same." She interjected. "People like me. Hell, I'm still alive today because of grudges. I know what it's like to have the enemy in your scope and then when shit hits the fan, you have to sound the retreat or else it's you and not them."
"Yeah." Garrus sighed, sitting up so he could look at her better. "I shouldn't have compromised my team like that."
"They could handle themselves. They got you out in one piece, after all."
"They did." His talon traced the bandage wrapped around his waist and chest. Garrus sighed. "I should have taken your advice. Did you, ah, that is did you have your own team before being such a loner?"
He did ask jokingly and he really wasn't expecting her to answer. But her eyes lost its glow and his mandibles twitched a little. Not one of his shining moments of humor, then. She looked down to study her hands, wiggling her fingers like it was the most interesting thing (though he had to admit, having five fingers had him staring at them too—it's not like there were a lot of humans in C-Sec while he was still on the force or at Spectre training).
She looked up at him. "My first team—I was made de facto leader because I was the next in rank. They were killed in action. We were facing impossible odds, but I had hoped that we'd live through it. But they died, all of them. I was the only one who made it out alive."
Garrus immediately felt guilty for asking. He opened his mouth to say something but then what could he possibly tell her? Anything but platitudes, surely, but then there was nothing else he could think of. He could say now he understood why she liked working alone? Now he knew why a team didn't suit her? Garrus wasn't sure when he'd become so rude or so quick to judge.
Rachel noticed his distress and managed a small, painful smile. He felt guilty for that expression as well. "Don't worry about it, turian."
"Sorry."
"There's no reason to be. You didn't kill them." Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. "My second team was disbanded. I'm proud to say we're all accounted for—in spite of the reasons why we aren't together now."
"They're not—vigilantes like you and I, are they? Or borderline criminals, especially in your case. If the authorities managed to actually pin down your identity, you'd have an eight figure bounty on your head now, at least."
That got her to laugh and he felt immensely better for it. "It takes a special brand of crazy to become a vigilante."
"Well, it is hard to get that right combination of good-looking and badass."
"And conceit."
"It's not bragging if it's the truth." He let out a chuckle of his own and she smiled at him. "But on a serious note: thanks for helping out. Again. And for telling me about your teams—for educational purposes."
"Just doing my job, Vakarian." She stood up from her chair checking her omni-tool before wincing. "Twenty messages. You'd think the queen of Omega would have enough warm bodies to do her dirty work." She typed furiously, brows drawn so close together it created a crease. "I'll send a message to Erash to tell your team that you're awake and to come by in an hour or so. Enough time for you to get more rest."
She moved towards the exit but he reached out, holding her by the forearm, near her elbow. It would have meant a lot in his culture, the implicit trust he placed on her for all the times she'd helped him and his team and even Commander Alenko. She flinched at first at his touch and looked like she would pull away but he met her gaze and she calmed. "Really, Rachel. You've done more than you have to. I owe you."
Her eyes moved down to the talons on her arm, then quickly over to his face, then to his eyes. What was she trying to find in his expression, he wondered. What was she searching for and had she found it when she smiled? "I promised Mrs. Butler I would grab a coffee at the Eden Blue. When we're not both shooting things, maybe you can buy me a cup or two."
"Done." He let go of her arm, mandibles twitching to some expression that humans might call a smile. "It's a date."
"A less violent one, I hope?"
"I was only trying to get to know you."
She laughed, back turned already as she made her way out. She called over her shoulder "I bet you tell that to all the girls."
"Only the ones who can shoot my brain clear out of my head."
"Shut up and rest, turian."
He chuckled to himself, moving back into the bed and the covers. His hand twitched, remembering how strangely soft Rachel's arm was compared to a turian's. And the way she looked at him when he did it, eyes roving and moving from one point of his face to the other: memorizing, detailing, remembering.
When he closed his eyes after a while, thinking about her and what she had said and done, sleep embraced him and he allowed it to take hold.
Edited 04.23.2014
