Author's Notes: I'm a junior in college and that has made updating really… hard. But there's only a month or so if school left, which means regular summer updates. Thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this stuff. I plan to finish what I started. This is a shorter chapter, but I think I planned it like this? Just need to get this boat moving again. The next chapter will be exactly what I've been dying to write for months.
On another note, I'm totally obsessed with BSG and Bill Adama is my hero. Holy crap.
Bioware's announced ME2. I think we all know just how awesome this is… Now if only they'd sell me the rights and make me some merch.
Sometimes when I go to sleep, I dream that I own Mass Effect. Then I wake up and cry because that is so epic fail. ;_;
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She had this all-consuming fascination with threads It was ill-advised, utterly droll, and purposeless. It was a sad descent into boredom. Thousands of them, weaved together tightly to make their singularity irrelevant; the finished product was a masterpiece, a sample of simple genius as each fiber entwined with innumerable partners, tangled carefully to form a cohesive, purposeful unit. However, the fray at the edge of her dress shirt was corroding the mystery, revealing the science and machinery behind the art. Short-nailed fingers toyed with the broken edges, pulling at the breaking seam despite the nagging voice begging her to leave it be, not to make the matter worse. Still, those soft blue strings sang their siren song and she unwove the woven, watching as the tips of the fibers split further, revealing each miniscule string, each fragile, forgettable part.
This was no doubt destructive, but the body had overcome the mind. Her infatuation with such a minute problem prolonged her involvement as the tiny fray spread at her urging. It was so basically fulfilling, discovering the simplicity of each component, the basis of the garments she took for granted; fragile and pliable under the softest of touches.
How elegantly it unwound.
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The asari's back connected with the wall and she barked and gasp in quick succession, sucking in quickly as she tried to refill her lungs with the hair forced out by the blow. Shepard allowed her little time to recover as a gloved hand grasped the alien by the collar and yanked her forward. The agent stumbled, slumped in a daze as Shepard abandoned her beloved pistol in favor of a drawn fist. Her knuckles connected with a blue cheek, sending the woman reeling yet again into the hard, bare concrete of the wall. The asari had abandoned the shotgun long ago, but Shepard couldn't possibly forget it lying so comfortably on the floor.
She bent to sweep it up and in a swift motion, bared the butt of it to the asari, whose eyes gaped in horror as the impossible realization stole her words. The first blow sent a shock through Shepard, unprepared for the recoil of her own strike. But the hesitation was absent. She struck a second time and heard the satisfying crack of bone beneath her fingertips. The third robbed the asari of her footing, send the blue creature to the floor in a broken heap.
Down didn't necessarily mean submission in Shepard's book. The blunt strikes continued until Shepard could no longer lift her arms any higher, frowning at her own limbs' refusal to obey. She tested them once more and looked up, only to find clawed hands gripping at her forearms, fighting for possession of the weapon she'd been using as a club.
Garrus' eyes triggered her reflexes and her hands flew open as if on springs, relinquishing the weapon into his grasp. The heaving breaths were hers, not the asari's. The woman lay motionless on the ground and Shepard finally understood that the two bloodied bodies strewn down the hallway were her handiwork. As far as she could tell, there was only one entry wound on the first asari, and it had not been a fatal one. The damage had been dealt a cruder manner than she ever thought herself capable of… and Garrus' expression mirrored the exact thought.
Shame assailed her first, followed by embarrassment. She had no words to defend herself, though she couldn't otherwise claim the deaths to be unjust. A member of her team had been compromised and the asari had practically asked for Shepard's fist-to-face response the moment she'd decided to taunt the Commander with Wrex's shotgun.
Which was now in her possession and lacking the proper wielder.
Garrus placed the gun in its brackets on the back of his suit, setting his rifle just across it as his eyes never left Shepard. The two stood in their awkward silence as Shepard scrounged for words, though knew well enough that even a simple uttered apology would earn her a swift reprimand. Followed by a reminder of just how royally she'd fucked up. Whatever morality she'd forged over the years had flown down the garbage chute as soon as she made up her mind to kill the asari.
Garrus wasn't waiting for prompt, it seemed, and broke the silence.
"We need to fall back."
Shepard cocked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting the lashing she was due, "Fall back? Are you insane? Wrex is out there somewhere going through God-knows-what and-"
"Shepard, you just beat a woman to death with your bare hands," Garrus snapped in reponse.
But Shepard was on the defensive now, brow furrowing indignantly. "I had a damn shotgun!"
"Not her," he jerked his head towards the asari she'd long forgotten, lying motionless a few feet behind them. "That one. You strangled her."
Shepard had no memory of any such attack, but Garrus refused to resort to hand to hand combat unless he had no other weapons nearby. The dead were her burden; the C-Sec agent couldn't have brought about such an outcome. His words made this scenario feel so strange, so inappropriate… but it was his steel gaze that both quelled and suppressed her as he approached her, forcing the customary gap between them to shrink sharply.
"What's the matter with you?" He hissed, voice crackling against her skin like static, forcing her to feel the reprimand more so than hear it. He was out of line and ignoring rank, but she didn't challenge it. The words were overdue. It was uncomfortable, restless, and made her want to unzip her skin and walk out.
She had questions of her own and would not crumble beneath his scrutiny.
"Why didn't you stop me then?" She snarled, a predator on the defensive. The cornered sensation threatened her composure as she began to bare teeth. "You watched it happen. You were right there… tell me, if it was such an offense to you, why didn't you fuckin' make me stop?"
His mandibles shuddered, an oddly agitated motion. His mouth remained closed and she seized the silence.
"What difference does it make how I do it as long as somebody dies? They've got Wrex… they're in the way. They go down. I don't care how."
She didn't like his expression. She loathed how his eyes almost softened, regarding her her with such condescension, such pity. Might as well have been a scorned child, caught red handed by a disappointed parent. He looked upon her as if she was made of so much more than she was, failing to fulfill potential. The questioning in his expression bothered her, made her want to grab him by the collar and throw him against the wall until he assured her she was right, that she had every right to enact her revenge and be the brutal tool she was trained to be.
Shepard was running out of options, though. She couldn't fail again. Instead, she forced the thought to the back of her mind, throat tight as she pushed past the rage.
"Got to keep moving, Vakarian…" She muttered lips stiff and uncooperative in her quest to string words together into confident sentences.
"Keep moving? Move where? Into the ambush with fists flailing? You'll get us both killed, Shepard… and I don't share your death wish," he snapped.
But her feet moved without her permission, taking her further down the ramp. Garrus' hand clasped her arm and held her still in a vice-like grip. The force of such simple contact wracked her spine with shivers as the sudden physical awareness of his prowess threatened her. This was a hold she'd not break free of so easily. If he wanted her to take her leave, by all means, he'd allow it… but his fingers closed around her hard suit like iron, shifting the balance of power and pushing Shepard further towards the precipice; the edge dropping off into an abyss she dare not stare into.
"This won't work," he stated heatedly, searching her face for some kind of affirmation.
She had no such submission for him. Shepard met his eyes once more and accepted the unspoken challenge as she had before.
"Let go," she demanded flatly.
There was a dangerous pause in which no one moved a muscle. Garrus so closely resembled a stalking predator that she half-expected him to suddenly bare fangs and burst forward in an attack pounce. But this was a sentient creature with his own set of morals and rules, a victim of the effects of hierarchy. His mandibles twitched as his grip loosened, allowing Shepard to slip her arm through and regain control.
"Commander-"
"Garrus, you'll live through this if you do right by me… but you have to trust me…" her voice wavered so minutely, she wondered briefly if he'd be able to pick up on such a slight slip. Her own confidence was a delicate matter at the moment, grappling with the harsh logic that so plainly told her that she would not maintain Garrus' obedience if she continued on this slapdash path.
But her options were withering away just as steadily as the turian's hand slipping from her arm.
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If I didn't have the will, I would have fallen out of the system long ago. I would have disappeared along with the rest of the washouts. I didn't… and no. I don't act alone. I didn't get this far on my own mettle. No one does. I had enough to survive, but not enough to pull me up and onto the highroad.
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The walkway narrowed as they ran, but Shepard cared little for the development. She proceeded with blinders, knowing only forward and the promise of retribution. The walls no longer resembled the intentional appearance of an industrial passage, but a haphazardly tunnel piercing through the ice. Shepard knew in the back of her mind they had traveled far from the familiar threat of Port Hanshan into something unorthodox, a sinister place. Her better judgment screamed for reason, begging her to return for help, to regroup and consider the safety of her remaining charge. But the cries for vengeance drowned out the sense, her bloodlust- stronger. The mouth of the passageway spat them into a cave-like formation, hastily carved out of the planet's frozen crust. The tunnel became a hanging gangway, suspended by a few precariously placed cables forced into the cave's ceiling. Below the sloped path, at least a dozen people were moving crates onto several rovers.
This was a hateful rock, a reverie to those seeking the protection of a system at war with itself. Shepard squinted through her visor, gritting her teeth as her HUD confirmed the identities of the armed guards below her platform. ERC agents littered the area, stationed at every possible exit.
"Commander!" Garrus half-shouted, his tone unsettling to the point of nausea. But she saw the source of his trepidation, the ominous sign… the mark of their demise.
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They dragged me through the mud, put me through hell and made me run laps around the lake of fire… but it didn't end there. It should have been the end… not the stepping stone in turned out to be.
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Simultaneously, the floor agents turned around… asari, turians… a few humans thrown into the mix… The sea of eyes struck her, a wave of the stark realization that she had been so terribly wrong, so damn foolish and brash. Her heart froze and fell from her chest, as the knowledge of what she had just doomed Garrus to struck her. The gangway they stood upon snapped as gravity called the structure towards it, deeper into the core. A cable had been struck in the firefight, shaking their foundation as she saw the metal fibers of the cable splay out. Then it snapped, a deafening shot in and of itself as the whole path sloped. By some miracle and blessing of her grip, she kept her balance, but the inevitable bore down upon her; the only option left was down.
In that moment, silence; time progressed at a viscous pace, matter moving so minutely. It seemed that something so simple as turning her head to see Garrus took eons, a myriad of apologies and regrets spinning in her eyes. She could only hope that the elongated instant was enough for her to convey her remorse to the turian she had sentenced to death. All at once, pretense fell as his eyes found hers, cold and certain of what had befallen them. She saw in him her promises withering, drowning, spiraling into nothing as her oath to protect pounded in her ears, mocking her. All she had done, all she had failed to do assaulted her at once, brutalized her resolve until it fell away with the very floor she stood upon. The reverie ended as time lurched forward, overcompensating for the moment it granted her to swallow her mistakes with full knowledge of the consequences. Space collapsed upon her with immeasurable pressure as the sound of their crashed exploded around them. The cable snapped and the end facing the cave dipped violently downward, knocking Shepard off her feet and sideways into the failing walkway, knocking the breath from her lungs.
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We're nothing without other people to push us along. If we had the potential to be a one-man army, we'd have no need for each other… for a unit, platoon… whatever.
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An indistinguishable order echoed through the complex as the sound of metal scraping against screeching metal nearly deafened her, shots flying indiscriminately. Hands scrambled for a grip, the texture padding of her gloves offering little traction against the smooth surface. The blessing of a stick grip failed when faced with the task of keeping Shepard from falling at the ninety degree angle. Screams echoed from below her as another crash resounded from the ice walls. The certainty of their survival had already been shaken; the foreboding sound could do little more.
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If a man is completely and utterly self-reliant and self-built, he has no need for more. But this is imaginary man, ideal soldier, a creature built up from dreams of perfection.
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Garrus slid downward, groping for something to hold him fast. Shepard glanced downwards, eyeing the scattered agents as they appeared to flee. Darkness swallowed up ice… a deep fissure in the surface widening as the rover crashed into the side of it. Shepard assumed the disaster zone below her was due to a few stray bullets in the crossfire. The suspension cables must have been supporting much more than a walkway, judging by the damaged crates littering the mouth of the opening.
Garrus screamed at her, snapping her to attention as he found a foothold.
"Hold on!"
Their dangling safety collapsed as the cable burst and they fell. She imagined several scenarios in the instant; a fateful collision with the mouth of the cavern, a snapped neck and swift demise… or a slow, lingering death littered with broken bones and a looming agent prodding her with the barrel of a gun. But Garrus…? The prospect of her own death was much easier to swallow. The thought of his broken body sprawled before the enemy was like trying to force down bile. She couldn't. She refused.
In that moment, she gripped his forearm with all the strength she could gather, holding onto him as though her hold would keep him among the living, as long as she didn't let go. His eyes passed hers as they fell down, down into the screaming cavern, past the ERC goons and into the darkness. Still, she held fast to the last of her crew.
Her back connected with solid, but still, she fell. Turian and human descended rapidly into disorientation. Finally, there was support, but the motion did not cease. They were sliding impossibly fast, bumping from side to side of some form of tube, a subterranean tunnel crafted from years or erosion and water drainage. They were at the mercy of the planet's whims, following the frozen titan into its greatest depths.
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We are the reality; the specimen of our true condition… and we don't get here on our own.
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Shepard feared the end of their ride, for fear of being spit out into yet another gaping cave… There was no way to slow their progress. All she could do was thank the maker of her enviro-suit for climate control… for as long as that would last. The darkness thinned as light trickled in, pupils widening to accept the new sights. The blinding blue of their tubes waned as the tunnel burst into a gaping cavern, sending them rolling onto the icy floor. She braced, insisted on her grip and closed her eyes, letting the breath spill from her mouth.
The shock of the impact was short-lived as adrenaline urged her upwards, pressuring her to take inventory, to understand her surroundings. But she was so comfortably curled up on her side, letting the waves of pain wash over her and faded. Her hands found support beneath her as she pushed her torso upwards. The dimness offered little features of note. The cave was dark, pure ice, and pierced with openings of horizontal tunnels. None of which seemed to lead towards civilization. She rose to her feet, blissfully numb to whatever damage her low extremities had taken. There was a stiffness in her ankle that tempted her to limp and favor the limb, but she kept upright and removed her helmet, letting it fall gracelessly to the floor. Her eyes settled on Garrus' still form.
Her reactions seemed as frozen as their cage; still, quiet and cold. Shepard regarded him slowly as she inched towards him, step by step. She fell to a knee, eyes scanning his body for changes of note. It was like observing a long-lost, species, a creature thought missing in time's shadow. She was an observer, purveyor of archeology beholding a remnant of an age forgotten. When her hand wandered without her permission and felt the hardness of his chin, the synapses came to life and screamed for her to take action.
"Garrus?" She urged, fingers moving with purpose as she manually searched for a pulse.
Her knowledge of turian anatomy was limited, forcing her to consult the suits life support system. She searched the neck panel, scrolling through the turian notations with some frustration. She lacked a functioning understanding of the language and there didn't seem to be much of a translation function. Despite her efforts, she garnered little from her exam, noting only the slow, uneven breathing.
Shepard felt somewhat relieved, thankful she wouldn't be tasked to find the defibrillation function on an alien hard suit… but this left her at a crossroads: what could she do?
"Garrus, come on," she commanded, hands cradling his exposed neck.
Shepard felt herself falling forward, chest pressed to Vakarian's as a heavy pressure forced her forward. Whether exhaustion or the sudden relief that they'd evaded death was the reason for her collapse, she cared not. Her face was uncomfortably close to the hardsuit's frontal control panel, the cold surface of the armor offering nothing in the way of comfort. Garrus showed no indication that he could hear her, nor did he exhibit any change in his condition. Shepard listened to the harsh breathing, trying to find a pattern, something to soothe her fears. Each breath was a shard of hope, that he may get up at any moment, look her in the eye and urge them onward. But he was unaware and unresponsive, lost in whatever dream had stolen his consciousness. She would have given anything to be there, to work through whatever nightmare held him as long as it meant company.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry Garrus", Shepard muttered, her whispers swallowed up by the emptiness of the cavern. She was fully aware of the futility of her apology. Part of her hoped that in his unconsciousness, he would hear her, understand that she meant none of this. Another arrogant portion wished otherwise, unwilling to admit she'd made any mistake. But her failure was obvious. She had refused to follow protocol, charged forward blindly with a member of her crew in tow. She endangered herself along with the turian agent. Shepard had forgotten her purpose, her duty… and now, she faced the very real possibility that Garrus would never wake up. The enviro-suit was most likely the turian's last defense against the cold… and she could only hope quietly to herself that the power cells would hold out after the impact.
Until then, there was nothing but the waiting. Shepard wouldn't proceed until her partner was awake and prepared to travel. There was nothing but the soft persistence of the enviro-suit's life support and Garrus' rasping breath to accompany her as she rested against the motionless turian. She just needed some time to catch her breath… some time to rest.
In that moment, she knew there had to be no lonelier place in the galaxy than in the frigid grasp of Noveria.
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It's the others that build us up and carry us when we've fallen… forgotten our way. When we lose that, we lose everything.
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Heeeeey. Review so I remember why I write. Puh-lease?