"Whut, a new chapter? Salmon, you shouldn't have!"
Yes, a new chapter. And yes, I should. It's an interlude for a reason, though. It's not entirely plot related but it will be referenced throughout the story. Christmas day didn't exactly fit a normal chapter but it was good for some development so do read it. I thought people would be pissed if they waited for a week though and got an Interlude. (LOL, I'd be pretty pissed.) As I am leaving again for a week or so (yes, another delay). Don't expect a chapter until next, next week.
All in Erash's POV, told in third person limited (my favorite, as you will notice, of my invented Archangel gang personas).
This is dedicated to the, 112+ steady readers out there (both in ff and AO3). You guys are the most awesome, please keep on reading.
To BlackStarAura, who makes me laugh with a review- thank you for making my day.
And to Primordial Soul who never fails to review and give sage advice- many, many warm and heartfelt thanks.
Interlude I: Christmas Dinner
"Oh my god, the boss is acting like someone just died." Mierin muttered sadly. Erash had chosen to give her a moment of his attention before he went back to getting more of the cake, making sure Grundan wouldn't figure out that he had finished it.
Erash was worried about his boss though and he turned all four of his eyes to the now sullen turian. His boss' eyes which had been clear and bright were now evasive -darting back and forth so as not to let the shadows settle there. His entire stance which had been relaxed was now slumped. Batarians had always been keen on the language of the body, even the ones of other species. Though, unlike the others, Erash understood that there was no Galactic Standard meaning on every twitch, and that no, other races do not mean to offend when they tilt their heads.
"Krul, what happened?" There was obvious distress in the asari's voice as Sensat put a hand on the salarian's shoulder and shook it.
Krul shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it, I'm afraid. Shouldn't have brought it up at all but the opportunity had presented itself." He cleared his throat. "A wasted effort. I have confirmed nothing."
Mierin and Sensat shared a horrified look, as if Krul had done the most "inhumane" thing in the galaxy. Erash merely nodded, it might have been paid with a great amount of emotional distress but if Krul had deemed it necessary then it probably had to be done. For safety, maybe? Or maybe it was a precaution to the danger Legacy poses, even if she was obviously not a hostile. Not that Krul would know that, he was just a salarian.
"Hmph. She shouldn't have been here in the first place." Melanis, who barely took much of the cake, growled. Erash could tell it was mainly the dislike for the cook that stayed her hand rather than for the cake itself. The batarian had admitted whole heartedly that he would gladly had the levo one all to himself. Shifting her gaze between all of them, Melanis squared her shoulders and headed toward the boss with the determination and stride of a soldier.
"She's going to have her heart crushed when she tells him." Erash stated.
"Erash!" Sensat half-whispered and half yelled as she took a glance at Melanis. The female turian had one hand on her hip and tried her best to coax some cheer out of the boss, instead, she managed only a half-amused chuckle and all-around confusion. Well, at least she was trying. "You don't know. Maybe the boss can come to like her."
"Don't pretend to be stupid, asari." He scoffed back, shoveling the last piece of cake into his mouth and chewing it with a vengeance. "You know the boss has no feelings for anyone, not right now."
"What are we gossiping about?" Weaver poked his head in between Mierin and Sensat. His eyes were bright and twinkling. Erash curbed the urge to poke them out of existence. "Is it how mopey the boss is now that the very fine Legacy has walked out?"
"Thanks for not dirtying this, Weav." Mierin rubbed her eyes and then tipped the contents of her very strong smelling drink. Erash wasn't sure how she could stand the stuff and how she wasn't already dead drunk on the floor.
The infiltrator shrugged. "If you want to be serious, all you have to do is ask." He turned to where the boss and Melanis were, the latter's effort going to waste as the boss' eyes grew more and more glassy. Weaver winced. "I hope the boss let's her down easy.
"Why is everyone so sure that he won't grow to like her?" Sensat crossed her arms. "Mel is a fine girl and she suits the boss really well."
"If the boss really wanted fine and well-suited then he would have went back to Palaven and enjoyed the life of a rock star." Weaver crossed his arms, mimicking the asari's stance while raising an eyebrow at her. "Instead, he's here at the ass end of the galaxy. Something tells me the boss likes them exotic." He smiled. "An asari maybe, or a feisty quarian like in the romcoms."
"Or, Legacy." Erash couldn't understand the jaw-dropped reaction everyone had at those words. He shrugged, figuring that none of them saw what he saw. "She challenges boss—he thinks her his better. He seems to like that, it makes him try harder." He paused. "And he laughs a lot when she's around."
"And she could kill him in his sleep." Mierin shook her head. "I do not approve of this pairing. Scratch it out."
"I dunno." Weaver's eyes sparkled. "I think Legacy and the boss would go really well together. At least before they killed each other. Hm, has a nice ring to it. Legacy and Archangel. Together: Glarch."
"I've heard my own fart sound better than that." Grundan entered into their little circle, he too glanced at the pair of turians in the other side of the room. "That's not going to end well, is it?"
"Hmph. I think they'll be fine." Sensat looked away, still pouting.
"You just want Legacy for yourself, asari." Erash rolled all four of his eyes when Sensat's blue skin darkened. "I'm all for Glarch."
"Can we change this name, please?" Mierin pleaded.
Shrugging, Weaver huffed. "It was either that or Legangel."
"Jeez, you're useless."
"Thanks, Mei."
"Oh hell," Vortash, who had probably been eavesdropping, ran into the circle and leaned heavily against Mierin and Weaver. "Shit is about to go down. Sidonis at their five."
"Fuck, quick, Krul—damage control." Weaver pushed the salarian towards the group of turians. Krul looked both confused and scared—very rare traits for the proud salarian. But the new approaching figure made Weaver pull him back towards the group. "Wait, Nalah is on it."
Vortash sighed. "Man, I wanted a throw down."
"Not on Christmas, Vor." Mierin hit him lightly on the shoulder. All of them stared wide eyed as Nalah, fearless and unabashed, joined the turians. Her blue eyes were attentive and her gold hair glowed against the lights. Erash liked the woman, had been endeared by her strength. Most days he wondered how Butler had managed to win her over and marry her. He had always thought she must have gotten the shorter end of the stick or had been tricked into it.
"Alright, everyone," Butler clapped his hands together. "I think it's important that other than distributing the gifts—we should have the boss open all of his in front of us and then shamelessly make fun of him for it!"
The humans gave a collective cheer and the boss groaned but didn't stop any of them as they started distributing the gifts the team had set aside when they entered. Erash had been baffled by the idea of gift giving, nothing in his home world had a similar equivalent save for the first gift given when one was born- the only gift given. He settled instead for giving them weapon and shield mods, save for the boss whom he took a great amount of time assembling something expensive and useful.
Back on Khar'shan, the type of gift given at one's birth was dependant on one's caste. For the rich it was usually something made of expensive ore—a platinum image of Balag, the all-seeing god or an ornate knife of plutonium. For the middle class, it could be a gold image of Shira, protector of the faithful or jewelry made from cobalt and titanium that one could wear around the neck.
For the slave castes however, it was the clothes passed down from their parents. Old rags stained with mud and blood. Erash himself had received the bloodied pants of his father, who had died the day before he was born from the lashings of their master. He remembered clearly as his mother clung and sang and wept—and in their harsh and brittle tongue, had told him that this was a slave's destiny.
Fuck that, Erash thought. He knew no caste. Not when he knew he was intelligent and gifted. His master's children struggled with school but Erash stole what he could and read and learned. The broken scraps of household tools and old tech he pilfered from rubbish piles he had used to build, re-build, and then tear down to start anew. His mother feared for herself, that he was overstepping the boundaries given to them as slaves.
So he wasn't surprised when the Hegemony's henchmen came to take him away, and he saw his mother cower in the corner saying "Sorry, sorry, sorry" over and over again in the same way she had told him that he was his father's son and a slave's son was a slave for life.
He found himself in Omega, running away from the Hegemony, learning how easily he could kill a batarian by knowing where to hurt him. Killing other races came later, but killing his own kind became child's play. Most Batarians feared for their eyes, sometimes more than death because it was the eyes that was the channel which allowed the soul to travel to the Afterlife.
"Are you afraid of blindness more than death?" Legacy had asked him once through the comm. He was assembling his gift to the boss and he asked her for her help in finding some key parts. She had generously provided him a good seller and her own discount.
But in the middle of their assembling, she had asked him, tested him—he knew she was trying to discern what kind of person he was by the answer he would give her.
He could lie, he told himself. She'd have this idea of him in her head that was false and for him that was a thrill, to know he had an edge over someone as smart as Legacy. Nonetheless, he felt that she would know and her disappointment would be a wound he would rather live without.
"If you're asking me if I'd rather die with my eyes open. Then, yes."
"Why?"
"Because," He attached the intricate part of his new tech, watched the chips and wires piece together and churn into life. "I want to see the fucker who took my life. Burn his memory into my eyes and dig his grave in the afterlife beside me."
She made an affirmative sound, neither a pleased nor displeased sound. Her body language betrayed nothing through the holo and she had simply resumed helping him build his new piece of equipment.
Around him now, the team moved chairs and gifts and settled their presents in front of the boss whose earlier sadness had given way to embarrassment judging by the way his talons were twitching on the table. Nalah pushed him down to sit (she didn't look strong but she was very, very strong. Even Grundan had winced when they had played a human game called "arm wrestling".) to be the only one to open his gifts in front of them.
"Uh, why am I the only one who has to do this?"
"Because," Butler rolled his eyes. "You're the one everyone has the most gratitude and lurve for. I think it's only fair that we see whether or not you like what we gave you." Then Butler's eyes narrowed and his voice deepened. "And you better like them."
"Butler," Sidonis warned. His subharmonics pinched with annoyance. The human just grinned back. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to boss."
"You're just saying that because you gave the boss something military-ish and turian. In other words, boring." Butler wasn't expecting Sidonis' mouth to open and show a feral grin. Butler was ready to open his mouth to say something else but—
"Now, dear, let's not be so antagonistic during Christmas. Come on, sir," Nalah's hand was a light pat on the boss's shoulder, a warm and solid assurance that all was right in the galaxy so long as he listened to what she said (and Erash had no doubts that everyone believed it). "Open the one from Fredric and I first, for starters. On the right with the red ribbon."
He reached for it immediately (not without snickers and amused whispers about Butler's first name) and proceeded to carefully peel off the layer of wrappings around the box. Everyone made a collective sound of awe at the gift.
"I heard it's hard to find anywhere else and they don't make it the same otherwise." Nalah's smile was wide. "And, Butler had said you had once complained about craving Cipritine Chocolate before."
"This is a huge box though!" Garrus exclaimed, obviously impressed with the way he looked around the gold wrapping. "And expensive." Then he coughed. "And my favorite."
"It's nothing in comparison to what you've managed to accomplish, boss. For what you've done for Nalah and I, for Omega." Butler said with a nod in a strangely serious tone Erash had only heard during firefights and missions. "If a little chocolate makes you happy then by all means we'll provide."
The boss' content hum was all the thanks the couple needed, his flickering eyes made it obvious that he was embarrassed by Butler's honest words and couldn't respond in kind without ruining the moment. Trust the boss to know at least that much about his surroundings in the social sphere. Then, Nalah's wide smile—both grateful and mischevious - was displayed for all to see when she said: "Don't you think it's an odd coincidence that all Legacy knows how to make is chocolate related? She told me too that even the coffee she knows the proportions to are mocha flavored."
Erash wanted to burst out laughing in triumphant glee at the faces of the people he was talking to earlier. Let them see that the wonderful Nalah also thought they went well together, even if this information just flew right by the boss' head. Though not Melanis' as she sent a glare towards Nalah's general direction (she wouldn't dare spare an evil thought on the woman herself, not directly anyway).
It was no surprise how well everyone knew the boss, after that. Vortash had given him fancy arm guards that would help with the strain of holding the rifle. Sensat and Mierin had combined their purchase and had gotten the boss a new and better set of armor in the color of his clan markings, which fit well with what Vortash's gift (the boss looked like he was about to cry, probably remembering his own family in Palaven). Krul's had been a book, a human book, on human idioms that should now stop escaping the boss all the time. Trust the salarian to give something educational. Next was Ripper's, whom everyone was expecting to gift something embarrassing but which turned out to be a subscription to an extranet music store, he did it all by pointing smugly at the boss's visor with a proud "You need your sounds updated, every once in a while."
Weaver's gift was a set of very ornate knives which left the boss staring in wonder for a long time. Weaver had apparently sharpened and shaped them himself (who knew the idiot was surprisingly talented). Grundan, being the warmest and the most considerate of all of them bought the boss bracers for his spurs—the boss blinked at them and Grundan had muttered that he had seen the boss struggling with his injury even after all the time that's past. Everyone glared at the boss and he all but looked away to open the next gift with a quick thanks. Monteague had given him a sniper mod, an expensive and rare mod that would increase the damage of his rifle by at least 75%. That had everyone surprised and that he had to laugh them off because everyone knew he must have spent a lot of money to get it—money he shouldn't have because how much could a vigilante make?
"I had a lot saved up from the old days." The man scratched the back of his head and smiled. "Really, boss. Don't worry about it. I know you'll put it to good use."
"Damn, bro. That's better than what you gave me." Butler whistled and the boss just looked more embarrassed and reached for the next present.
"That's from me." Melanis said softly, which never happened except when she was talking to the boss. The boss unraveled the gift slowly as it was wrapped poorly and it was hard to discern where to start. But Melanis had tried and her fidgeting was obvious. Erash supposed that if Glarch (shit, they needed to change the name) didn't turn out then the boss may very well end up with Melanis.
The boss, along with everyone else was confused though when he opened it to find a black cube, no larger than a turian's hand. It was shiny and clean, practically ominous in its presence until Erash himself figured out what it was and hummed in approval. "A field simulator. Does it have the latest program?"
"Of course," Melanis cocked a hip to the side and crossed her arms. "Wouldn't be as effective otherwise, the rest would be considered liars next to this model."
The boss blinked rapidly as he figured out what it was well. Opening his omni-tool and linking them together, he typed down a hypothetical situation and loaded his own stats in. A holo then came out to show that he would manage a perfect headshot despite the five click distance, wind speed, and the stampede of klixen making their way towards him from a hundred metre distance. The group laughed and Melanis managed a soft "Show-off" before punching him in the arm.
The boss picked out Erash's gift before Sidonis' and Erash felt the rush of blood as he opened it slowly, aware that it must be some kind of delicate piece of tech (though it wasn't, couldn't be, because he wanted the boss to take it with him to battle). He gasped audibly when he saw it in the box and fished it out to put it against the light. Everyone else besides Weaver (who looked at it enviously) were confused.
"All those improvements you wanted for your visor, sir. I figured you wouldn't let anyone else touch it, so the instructions and parts are all there."
"Above and beyond the improvements I wanted." The boss laughed. "So, this is what you and Legacy were talking about late at night? I doubt you'd know what I wanted unless you were there at the grueling fight."
Erash shrugged. "She offered her assistance, yes. She also said that your model needed to be updated. And something about kicking your ass if she didn't show a little mercy."
The boss laughed again. "Says the one who got the head injury." Then some small flash of pain revealed itself in his eyes and he sighed. "Stupid, difficult human." He muttered while reaching for the final gift, which everyone was sure was going to be some kind of turian thing like tech or bullet mods. The boss seemed to think so even as he opened the box and looked inside—
And just stared for a second before shutting it quickly. No one got to see it because the boss turned a laughing and yet angry face towards his second-in-command. "You can't be serious."
Sidonis crossed his arms. "Oh, I am very serious, Garrus." The only one in the whole squad who called the boss by his first name, and the only one who had expressed permission although the boss had never told the group otherwise - he never corrected anyone off mission when they didn't refer to him with his given name. He was just 'boss' to everyone else.
"What's in—"
The boss immediately put his hand over the box when Nalah tried to reach for it. She puffed her cheeks a little but even that didn't move him. "Sorry, Nalah—it's classified." He turned back to Sidonis. "I can't believe you."
"What? Everyone thought I was going to get you something boring and turian. But all of them got you all the boring stuff and I got you something you can enjoy for the next year—"
"Okay, now we really have to know what's in there." Weaver moved to swipe it but the boss was fast enough to snatch it into his arms.
"Um, as nice as it would be to show you all—I'd be embarrassed to show it in front of Nalah. If you get my meaning."
Sidonis chuckled. "Clue: it's a subscription to something fun. Plus a few copies as an extra bonus."
"Ah." Erash shook his head.
"Well, shit." Ripper got it right away and laughed. "Hope you share the blessing by giving us the extra copies, boss. Preferably unopened."
"Wait, what is it?" Nalah asked again and the boss had to look away.
"Hey, how come you're embarrassed to show Nalah and not us?" Mierin glared and the boss coughed. Lifting the box above his head as Nalah had started to jump. "We're women too."
"Yeah, but Nalah is a lady—Ow! The fuck woman!" Vortash rubbed the arm she punched. "Would you stop hitting me? It's Christmas night!"
Then Nalah gasped and the room stopped. She put her hands to her mouth and began to giggle. "I get it! It's porn, isn't it?"
"Shit, Nalah just said the word porn." Monteague breathed dramatically.
The woman in question huffed. "Of course I can say the word porn, James. I live in Omega!" There were all around snickers at Monteague's first name. Nalah ignored them and crossed her arms. "Tell me, is it Fornax? That stuff is vanilla. If you want the real stuff, just ask."
"God, she is Butler's wife!" Weaver wept in his hands and Butler rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing. Maybe now Erash could accept why she and "Fredric" married after all.
Nalah squeaked an "Oh!" before running off for the kitchen. All eyes were on her when she came back with another gift that she carried with relative ease despite the fact that it was likely to be in a weapon case. "From Legacy. I think you should open it! I really wanna know what she gave you."
Garrus laughed as she set it down heavily against the table. They were all sure it was a weapon by the way it was wrapped and by how heavy it looked in its blue and silver wrapping. The boss' hand lingered on it, tracing it slowly as his eyes glowed in anticipation and his visor worked on trying to solve its mysteries without having to unwrap it. He plucked the card that was there and read it aloud: "To Vakarian: don't try to guess. It's a prototype. Schematics were from a mutual friend."
That's when the boss couldn't hold on to his excitement and had to tear it open. There wasn't any of the earlier softness or the grace he used to open the other gifts. He needed to know what was inside. Erash knew the boss had been itching for the new M-97 Viper or the M-29 Incisor but no one in the group had the credits for those and the boss knew it. He'd had waited for the prices to go down before going in to bid for a secondhand one. When he clicked the case open though, the gun that was there made even Erash take a step back.
"Boss, that gun looks way better than the one you put a bid for in the market."
The boss laughed, picking up the gift with sure hands. Its name had been engraved on the left, "Indra." He took one of the thermal clips it came with (at least standard sniper bullets fit in there so it wasn't too altered) and clicked it into place before looking at Butler. The man gave him the thumbs up and before anyone knew it, the boss had aimed at a row of dusty mugs displayed on a shelf and took them all out in a line of powerful and rapid bullets. The boss clicked off the thermal clip with another solid movement and smiled. "Legacy. It's like she could read my mind."
"Damn." Butler whistled. And his sentiment was felt by everyone in the café. It was a superb gun and it was being handled by a superb shot. "I have got to get me some rich friends."
"You know what it means when a girl gets a guy a gun?" Nalah's tone sounded like she was about to make a joke but it was probably because she was so giddy that her face was red and her eyes glowed.
The boss bit, though. "What?"
Nalah smirked. "She thinks hers is bigger."
"Oh god," Groans echoed all around the room and Mierin just looked up in resignation. "Please, stop trying to remind us that you're Butler's wife, Nalah!"
The boss, recovering from Nalah's confession, coughed to get the attention of his team. "Thank you. For all of this, really. You didn't have to."
"We did, boss." Grundan said without muttering. "Without you our lives right now would have been completely different, in the worst way."
"You deserve all our thanks." Sensat put a hand to her heart. "Thank you for everything, boss."
Sidonis lifted a drink and everyone followed suit when he said, "To Archangel. Cheers!"
"Cheers!" They clinked glasses, as the humans had taught them to do. There was laughter and big smiles and dirty jokes - the way Archangel should spend a gift giving holiday, and preferably every day after. Erash noted the way the boss still hung back though, periodically glancing at Legacy's gift and patting it gently all through the evening, sometimes even mid-conversation.
Maybe, in the future Erash would talk to the boss about what he thought about Legacy. But for now, it was Christmas and it was Archangel's time. The boss didn't need those thoughts now.