Disclaimer: Bioware owns almost all.
A/N: Thanks to everbody who's following along. Shepard and Alenko are going to hate me after this chapter.
Chapter 12
Commander Shepard did not shrink from violence or gore, nor did she oppose the celebration of soldiers after a victory, but she was a bit put off by the company. As was his right as clan leader, Wrex determined the way to best dispose of Tzer Faeng's remains was to duplicate his disciplinary techniques. The newly deceased was stripped of his armor, strung up by his heels, and left to dangle over the varren fighting pit. Clan members took bets on which body part would be devoured first, and the varren howled shrilly. Commander Shepard could have done without the varren.
Wrex had not been surprised when Grunt threw down the fresh corpse in front of him, and made sure that all who were listening recognized him as Clan Urdnot. If possible, Grunt seemed to stand even taller, practically beaming with pride.
He had joined the fray surrounding the pit, barking out his bets and fighting for the best view of the spectacle. Shepard and Alenko remained on the rise with Wrex, observing from afar. She watched him interact with his fellow clan members while Alenko and Wrex visited, curious to see how others would respond to his tank-bred status. Grunt appeared to have no difficulty assimilating into their culture and seemed to be regarded highly by the others. Shepard guessed it was either due to this latest stunt, or Urdnot was still talking about the thresher maw. She found herself once more thanking the powers that be the female clan was not currently in attendance.
Her musings were interrupted as Wrex shoved a drink in her hand and she turned around to face him. He lumbered toward his usual seat, rumbling deeply as he sat down. Alenko had perched on a large slab of rubble next to him, a drink in his hand as well. Shepard didn't know if she should be relieved or concerned by this turn of events and the look on Alenko's face mirrored her own.
"Ratch had some of that filth lying around and I remember you mentioned how much you like it."
The deep growl of Wrex's voice did nothing to dampen Shepard's curiosity. She gazed at the amber liquid in her glass, swirling it gently in thought. It smelled familiar, looked familiar, so she might as well see if it tasted familiar. A sharp burn shot down her throat and Shepard recognized the drink as very cheap whiskey. She took another hearty swallow and looked over at the other commander who was still considering his options.
Wrex laughed, a deep booming bellow, as he watched Shepard down the rest of her drink. He tapped his head plate, imitating the human gesture. "What's the human saying? Steel trap?"
Shepard quirked a smile and nodded. "Apparently, Wrex. I can't believe you remembered some off-hand comment like that."
He leaned back and relaxed into his seat, red eyes rolling with mirth. "It is strange the things I remember from our tour on the Normandy." He glanced over at Alenko who was still contemplating the beverage in his hand. "I remember that this rutting whelp once enjoyed my company. Drink, Alenko."
Alenko shot Wrex a look of irritated amusement and took a swig of his whiskey. Wrex clapped him on the shoulder playfully, nearly knocking him off his perch, and signaled to one of his attendants. The bottle of cheap whiskey miraculously appeared in his hands and he set it on the ground as Wrex waved him away. Shepard settled down beside it and refilled her glass, taking note of Wrex's empty hands.
"Isn't it rude for us to drink without the clan leader?"
Wrex inclined his enormous head and reached down beside his "throne." A large earthenware jug was nestled in the rubble, and Wrex plucked it out as if it weighed nothing. He undid the stopper and took a long pull. Shepard suppressed a wince as the scent of ryncol wafted through the air and tickled her nose. He eyed her with what looked like merriment.
"Are you game, Shepard?" He extended the jug toward her.
She remembered her last wild romp with ryncol and decided against it. "No thanks, Wrex." She raised her glass to him. "This will tear me up enough for one day."
He let loose with thundering laughter, leaning back once more, the jug settled at his side. Alenko appeared to be making progress and Shepard handed him the bottle of liquor. He accepted it without pause, topping off his glass. Wrex bared his teeth in a smile, familiar and ferocious all at once.
"So Wrex, is this how krogan celebrate their victories?" The bite of the whiskey had softened and Shepard took another swallow.
Wrex seemed to mull the question over before responding. "We celebrate not only the victory against Tzer, but the addition of their females as well. I would think that you would understand breeding as a reason to celebrate?"
Alenko coughed suddenly, seeming to choke on his beverage. Shepard shifted uncomfortably and attempted to redirect the conversation. "How do you think the Council will respond to the unified krogan clans?"
"You and I have the same opinion of the Council, Shepard. If they can't use us to their advantage, then they'll make sure to keep us neutered."
She leaned back against a slab of debris and tried to relax. Wrex and Shepard did indeed have similar feelings on the Council's motives and ability, and given the opportunity, the politicians would screw them both over if there were any gain were to be had. However, while Wrex didn't need their assistance and resources, they could certainly benefit Shepard on this mission and she detested that fact.
"So you don't think anything will change the krogan's council status?" She eyed Wrex over her glass, gauging his reaction.
He rested his head on his hand, the vertical slits of his eyes narrowing. "No, Shepard. They stay safe in the knowledge that the krogan will eventually die out, either from the genophage or our own self-destruction."
Shepard studied the krogan leader. The weight of responsibility had not taken its toll on his body, but she was able to tell by the stern tone of his voice that the burden he now carried was indeed heavy. Wrex had mentioned krogan fatalism once before, and despite rarely ever speaking of it, she recognized that it was a subject that deeply troubled him.
She took another sip, the bitter liquid now sliding smoothly down her throat. "So can I still count on Urdnot support?"
His armor creaked as Wrex leaned forward conspiratorially. "Give us an enemy, Shepard, and I'll show you true krogan."
Her attention was wrenched away from their conversation by the sound of the whiskey bottle, tinkling as it fell against the rubble. Shepard frowned slightly as she noticed Alenko, still perched on the slab of debris with his head in his hands. She stood up, concerned, and then regretted her decision as she realized how much liquor she had consumed. The commander took a moment to steady herself, then stepped carefully over to him.
He met her gaze, the expression on his face a sort of relaxed confusion. She took his chin in her hands and examined his eyes, all the while trying to maintain her own balance, and noted the dilation of his pupils.
"I thought your migraine was gone? You didn't drink that much did you?" She cupped his head gently in her palms, the liquor in her system dampening her usual self control.
He covered her hand with his and blinked up at her simply. "I think my migraine meds are interacting with the whiskey." His voice was soft, almost childlike in its innocence, and Shepard felt the tickle of laughter simmer within her.
"You're high?"
Shepard dropped her hands from his face as he glanced around, nodding absently. "I think I am?"
Normally, the commander would have reprimanded a subordinate for this sort of behavior in this sort of environment. Krogan were not known for tolerating the weak, which included those who could not handle their liquor. As it stood, however, Shepard was also more inebriated than she had first thought, which led her to believe that the cheap whiskey was not, in fact, actually whiskey. She turned from her subordinate and his altered state and tried to scowl at Wrex.
"It's not whiskey, is it." It was more of a statement than a question.
Wrex rolled his eyes forward in what was considered a krogan frown. "It is too whiskey. Batarian make."
Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose in thought, irritated with herself for getting into this situation. She glanced back at Alenko who was gazing around the room blankly, a stupid grin plastered across his face. She would have to get him out of here and soon, as neither one obviously understood the interaction between batarian whiskey and human medications.
The commander glanced over her shoulder and scanned the crowd, recognizing Grunt's large form as he shouted and roared animatedly. From the look of it, he had secured a front row seat to the varren feeding frenzy. She hoped he didn't fall in.
"Wrex, I've got to get Alenko back to the ship. Can you inform Grunt that he has two hours before the shuttle returns to pick him up? He needs to have some time to unwind." Shepard watched in morbid fascination as Grunt's armor was suddenly sprayed with blood.
"Very well, Shepard." Wrex shifted in his seat as he watched Shepard pull Alenko upright. "You're off to play nursemaid to your mate then?"
The commander mentally frowned as she tried to think of a way to explain their relationship, and then abandoned the idea as her verbal skills were not quite up to par at present. She wasn't even sure that she understood what was happening between them. However, Shepard did recognize that she would have to cross batarian whiskey off the list of casual liquors, only saving it for those times when she needed to drink herself stupid.
"I'll be in touch, Wrex. And next time I'll bring the libations."
She slung Alenko's arm around her neck and pulled him with her, Wrex roaring with laughter as they shuffled down the rise. Alenko occasionally tripped on the rubble, and while he wasn't complete dead weight, his balance was certainly off. They ran into the wall multiple times upon entering the hallway, Shepard's vocabulary growing more and more vulgar the further they progressed.
His head lolled awkwardly and he rolled it to the left, meeting her eyes and smiling ridiculously. "Thanks, Shep. I know I need to get to the shuttle –" Alenko attempted to point toward the landing pad, but only succeed in flailing his arm about. "- is it this way?"
Shepard snickered drunkenly, mentally berating herself for her lack of discipline, and stumbled forward. The landing pad was just a bit further and beyond the next door. They had made decent progress, leaning on each other like a pair of cadets on shore leave, working to place on foot in front of the other. Unfortunately, they were confronted by the bane of drunks everywhere: stairs.
The commander paused momentarily, Alenko still clinging clumsily to her, and considered her options. The fog in her brain had not evaporated like she thought it would; rather the opposite. It seemed that batarian whiskey did not cycle through her system like most other liquors did. Shepard made a mental note of this, but promptly forgot as she contemplated the stairs.
She stepped up boldly, maintaining her balance and pulling Alenko along with her. He stumbled and fell toward the wall, trapping her against him. Their armor clanked together loudly, echoing down the hall as his heavier body crashed against hers. Shepard could feel the nearness of him and he leaned on her for a time, trying to regain his balance. Alenko's gaze met hers, pupils still dilated, and ran a gloved finger along her cheek. Warmth flooded her body and Shepard fought the urge to pull him even closer. Chocolate eyes searched hers and Shepard could have wept with want, but a strange look crossed his face. He immediately doubled over and vomited on her boots.
Shepard was disgusted. It wasn't the sound of Alenko's retching, or the stench of puke assaulting her nostrils, but rather her lack of composure. Tough-as-nails Commander Shepard had gotten drunk and almost taken advantage of a subordinate officer. She sighed irritably and pulled Alenko up the stairs, the two finally stumbling through the door and onto the landing pad.
She could not get inside the shuttle fast enough, half stumbling, half barging past the krogan guards. The shuttle door slid open and the commander practically threw Alenko inside, securing his harness in place and ignoring the looks of curiosity from the shuttle pilot.
"Get us back to the Normandy," she managed to utter, working to figure out the bindings on her own harness. Alenko sat across from her, his head lolling forward loosely, then side to side as the shuttle took off. The sudden shift in gravity as they broke through the atmosphere made her stomach turn, and Shepard started to worry that Alenko's might not be the only vomit on her boots today.
She ordered the pilot to contact Dr. Chakwas and have her ready for their arrival, shuddering as she thought of all the potential repercussions. At least she had completed her mission before getting completely hammered.
The doctor was waiting for them when they arrived and she shot Shepard a curious look. "What happened down there?"
The commander shook her head, instantly regretting the sudden movement. "Alenko seems to be suffering from a medication interaction."
Chakwas noticed the slur in her voice and examined her with the intense scrutiny only a doctor could employ. "Have you been drinking?"
Guilt coursed through her veins and Shepard suddenly felt the urge to shoot something. "Wrex had some batarian whiskey that he shared with us. The krogan were celebrating – Grunt still is."
Dr. Chakwas frowned, reminding the commander of an angry mother hen. "Well, bring Alenko to medical. I'll see to him there."
How they got to medical, Shepard wasn't quite sure. She remembered Dr. Chakwas helping her carry Alenko, and then tripping over a crate in the cargo hold, but the rest was a blur. She did recognize the bright lights and pungent scent of antiseptic and realized she was in the med bay. Apparently, the fog in her brain had not quite dissolved.
Dr. Chakwas was busying herself at one of her many medical stations, her terminal lit up with data feeds and diagrams. She shot Shepard an interested look and turned to face her.
"Feeling better, are you?"
The commander rubbed her arm absently. "I suppose."
Chakwas nodded and gestured to Shepard's arm. "I injected you with a derivative of Acemposyte. It should counteract the effects of the alcohol that you ingested."
"Oh," she said lamely. Shepard searched the room until she saw Alenko lying on the examination table next to hers. His arm was flopped over his eyes and he grumbled incoherently.
"What exactly was it that Wrex gave you?"
"Batarian whiskey."
Dr. Chakwas shook her head in admonishment. "How old was it?"
"No idea." Shepard could feel the impending chastisement. "Wrex said it was something that Ratch had lying around."
"Ah," Chakwas said thoughtfully and returned to her terminal. "Some batarian ales degrade with time. You're lucky the effects weren't any worse."
Alenko shuffled loudly on the table, struggling to sit up straight. Dr. Chakwas walked purposely over to him, syringe in hand. Shepard watched as the doctor quizzed him, questioning him about his migraine, current symptoms, and spatial comprehension. Alenko mumbled something unintelligible, his brows furrowed in confusion. With little resistance from her patient, Chakwas pulled his arm straight, swabbed it, and promptly stuck it. Alenko winced, but remained still.
Dr. Chakwas returned to her terminal and Shepard swiveled around on the table to face Alenko. He looked up at her, the confusion written across his face.
"How are you feeling?"
Alenko seemed deep in thought, contemplating a response, but instead of answering, he pointed to her feet. The medicated grin returned accompanied by innocent wonder in his voice.
"Shepard, I puked on your boots."
