Chapter Thirteen

[Everywhere] We Turn

A long, nerve-wracking silence hovered in the air as they stared at one another. Tertius glared with a demand for an answer. Mary gazed back in the hopes that he would stop. She eventually slid off the sofa and stood, pulling at the bottom of her garment's hem. His brow raised when she spoke loudly, her upper body leaning forward with emphasis.

"It was an accident!" she pleaded, pausing when she heard him sigh in frustration. "I was just trying to figure out how to turn the messaging beep off!"

"Then why didn't you tell me after it happened?" he questioned, tossing the object onto the couch. He watched her jump by his actions, stepping away and walking around the back of the furniture.

"Because I...was afraid you'd get mad I was in your room," she confessed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I thought you would check it and see the date!"

"And you don't think I would be mad now? Even you should know omni-tool messages don't have dates." His voice began to rise. He didn't intend to speak so harshly, but didn't notice that his tone was heading that way. To a human who had never spoken with an angry turian before, it must have been terrifying. "Did your fever fry your common sense or is that how all human kids are raised?"

"Stop calling me that," she protested softly, her steps stuttering towards him.

"What? Kid? That's because you are one!"

"You're someone's kid, too..." her voice trailed within the last few syllables, realizing what she had said.

His eyes became narrow, pacing towards her as his voice thrummed in a low growl. "Was someone's kid. Was."

She shifted where she stood, wringing her hands. "I'm sorry, I—"

"I have been going out of my mind wondering what happened to my brother. I have checked my messages nearly every hour for the past few weeks wondering if I'd ever hear from him again. Here I come to find out that not only did I have a message from him, but I've potentially missed my chance to write him back." He noticed her mouth start to twitch, her eyes planted to the side. His emotions got the best of him, aggravated by the feelings her face was trying to hide and settling on saying the first thing that came to him. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think this is funny?"

"No, I—"

"Despite what you may think this isn't some vacation!" he shouted. "We're in the middle of a war and you're in more trouble than you realize!"

"I know that," she replied, her voice cracking slightly.

"Then act like it! Stop it with the games! Stop hiding things! Damn it, just...grow up!"

Her lip continued to move awkwardly before she gazed up at him, her eyes glazed over. "I'm not the one yelling. Or moping around the apartment over things I can't control. Or lying about messages from C-Sec. Maybe I just didn't want to talk to you because you suck at people skills." When she opened her mouth finally speak above a mumble, his mandibles flared out slightly, seeing that her once white teeth were coated red. "You need to grow up a lot more than I do!"

She managed to force back a sob as she ran for the bathroom, latching the door loudly behind her. His short attack of anger died into a calm frustration, looking down at the talon he had been subconsciously pointing at her. He sighed quietly, knowing that Mary's lip had not been bitten out of humor or nervousness. There had been fear in her eyes, and the more he stared at the spot she had been, the more he began to hate himself for it. As much as he wanted to admit it, part of his mind wouldn't let his pride place him in the wrong. He needed time to think, and time to give her peace. With gritted teeth and a huff he headed for the entrance, storming out into the hallway and locking the door shut.

There were at least fifteen regulations he could think of that she had broken, seven of which could have gotten her serious jail time. She had been wrong to open his mail and watch it. She had been wrong not to tell him about it. Everything about the situation read that he was perfectly in the right, particularly when the law was concerned. He would find himself meandering into the Tayseri corridor, however, wondering what right he actually had. She still didn't know about her parents, and he had no idea how he was going to tell her. Not after how he reacted.

He drew his eyes up from the floor as the quiet murmurs of the dying day echoed in his head, glancing around to find most of the shops were closing up. A brief thought crossed his mind when he looked over to Dee Dee's store, wondering if the events from earlier held any repercussions for her. It was nice to think of something else for a moment, squinting after a time when he noticed that she hadn't brought down the metal barriers over the windows yet. He turned and walked over slowly, gazing through the glass panes and curiously not finding any movement. Maybe she really had been arrested. The notion made his head hurt, imagining that she had gone back to confront the asari merchant again and ending up in a holding cell of the Lower Wards next to a bunch of illicit individuals.

Opening the door carefully, he could have sworn he heard mumbling of some kind, leaning his head to peer down the aisles. When he didn't see anyone, he tried to follow the sound, looking over the edge of the counter. He was surprised when he saw her kneeling, uttering something his translator couldn't decipher. Her hands were clasped together and placed against her forehead, a small, beaded necklace wrapped around them. There was a small picture he had never noticed before, the pale faces of a mother and child blending in with ornate gold and silver etchings. They seemed to hold a significance that he was unaware of, considering how focused she was.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, watching her leap to her feet and turn to him. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a human move that fast.

"Oh! It's you," she laughed weakly with embarrassment, smoothing out her clothes. "I was just...Just praying."

He had heard the tradition for humans was similar to most beliefs, if only with a few differences, but he never took her for the spiritual type. "What for?"

"Well, uh..." she blinked, placing the dark strands of hair that had fallen lose behind her ears. Letting out a breath, her voice became oddly somber with her smile. "For a lot of things."

She obviously didn't want to talk about it and he was in no mood to push her for answers. "What were you speaking? The language, I mean. I couldn't understand it."

"Maybe it wasn't for you to understand," she replied smugly, leaning her elbow against the counter. Noticing his confusion, she shook her head. "It was Latin."

"Lah-tin," he articulated slowly. "I'm not familiar with it."

"It's an old human language. Barely ever spoken outside of prayers and holy places. Don't worry, I wasn't saying anything bad about you," she waved her hand dismissively with a grin. His face remained serious through her obvious attempt to get a reaction, Dee Dee standing straighter. "So what are you doing here so late? Shouldn't you be at home having dinner with your lady friend?"

He remained silent, his talons tapping hesitantly on the table. Under normal circumstances he would have just pushed aside her question for something else. Though, he knew under normal circumstances he would have never stopped at her store. In fact, he probably would have never left the apartment in the first place. He recalled, briefly, what her previous occupation had been, and he knew the doubt in his mind had to be put to rest one way or another. It was awkward, and he would probably regret asking her later, but he was just so tired. For a few minutes he contemplated what he wanted to say, instead of potentially screwing up again by listing off whatever came to him. He still wasn't sure if he needed to apologize, but he felt like he should ask what the human formality was anyway.

"Do you, um," he said slowly, rolling his hand in front of him. "Do you have any sheep?"

"Do I...what?" she smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sheep. They're a type of farm animal. They apparently have longer face." He paused to let her answer, but she pressed her lips together, holding back a chuckle. Sighing, he continued in a mumble with his flanged voice, "They go...bah."

"No, I'm afraid I don't sell livestock here," she finally belted out, almost falling over the stool next to her. "Unless you meant the toy kind."

His face remained unamused. "That's the social convention among humans, right? You give a gift when you apologize?"

"Well, that depends," she blinked, tilting her head in wonder. When he kept his eyes planted at the counter, she frowned and shook her head. "What did you do?"

"It's...Not really..." he breathed, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"You yelled at her, didn't you?" she said for him coolly.

"I really didn't mean to," he answered quietly, rubbing his forehead. "I was just..."

"Stressed? Tired?" she asked, watching him nod. "Yeah, I can tell. The war may not be here yet, but we've all be feeling it."

Yet. The way she said it held an eerily striking manner that made him glance at her, seeing she maintained a hollow grin. It was similar to what she wore the day the Ward stared through her shop's windows. It didn't surprise him, however; many people were cynical about the Citadel's protection, believing it was only a matter of time before the galaxy's problems became their own. In the back of his mind, he was starting to join their numbers, but he refrained from admitting it to himself or others.

"What happened?" she inquired sincerely, leaning her chin into her hands.

"I finally received a message from my brother," he began, trying to swallow his pride as best he could. "Except the message was sent about two weeks ago. She had apparently tried to turn my datapad off and accidentally viewed it. Out of...fear she decided not to tell me."

"Fear of what?"

"That I would get angry with her."

"And you did get angry with her, didn't you?" She hesitated, knowing exactly where he was going. Even if he was a turian, she could read the guilt written all over his face. "Well, it was wrong for her not to say anything—"

"But it was wrong for me to yell at her for it. Spirits, Dee Dee, she's just a kid," he exclaimed quietly. Subconsciously it felt good to say it, but spilling out his words, no matter how hushed his voice tried to be, made his chest start to hurt. It was not a sensation he had ever felt before, and he wanted to be sure it wasn't something he'd ever feel again. "And I just kept calling her that. Kid. Like it was demeaning or something. I guess I deserved it when she shot it back in my face, but it...it hurt so damn much to be reminded what I've lost already."

She stood back when he chuckled inwardly, sounding sad. "Tertius..."

"You know what the worst of it was?" he questioned, almost like he hadn't heard her. "When she left me standing there, all I could think about was what I could still lose. Then I realized how selfish that was compared to what happened to her. Her parents are dead and I couldn't even manage to tell her. What kind of turian...What kind of man am I if I can't even do that? I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. Maybe I should just call it quits and have Bailey assign someone else to take care of her."

"They'd be guarding her," Dee Dee spoke suddenly.

"What?" he looked up.

Her smile was gone, staring at him intently. With her eyes beginning to twitch, she eventually sighed roughly, reaching around her throat and tugging at a chain. Pulling a small, brass medallion from out of her shirt, she held it out to him and ran her thumb along the back in thought. Tertius was unsure what it represented, displaying a man with a child on his shoulders and several smaller symbols that appeared to be archaic looking aircraft.

"You know what this is?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, can't say I do."

"This is St. Christopher. Or his medal, anyway. He supposedly looks after travelers, bachelors...Well, a lot of people." Her gaze flickered towards him, lowering the jewelry to have him focus on her. "You know why I wear this?"

"Because you travel a lot?" he guessed, though he honestly had no idea.

"Maybe a little," she snickered, looking away. "But no. I wear this because it's all I have. It's all I have left. I have no one looking out for me in this life, and I'm not so sure about the next, either."

He found himself remaining still when she reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly.

"I'm not looking for sympathy, believe me," she continued with an awkward laugh, "but...Listen to me. As children we want to be our own person so badly that sometimes we forget what it actually means. We're in such a hurry that...we end up losing a part of ourselves in the process. We become cold. We're uncaring to those around us, even those who are important to us, only if it means that we can be considered 'grown up'. What is a merchant if he doesn't care what he's selling or to whom? What is a guardian if he doesn't care what he's protecting? If she called you a child then...be glad she considers you her equal and not some grouchy old C-Sec officer only there to do his job. Joke about stupid vids. Laugh about strange games with each other. Enjoy being a 'kid' for as long as you can. Some people don't get to have the pleasure." She released her grip, waving for him to follow her down into the store. "Believe me, she doesn't want you to quit your job any more than you do."

Everything he thought to ask from her previous statement was pushed aside when she said that, pausing his pace and holding out his hands objectively. "And how would you know? Maybe I want to retire early."

She glanced over her shoulder with a growing grin. "With a war going on, you retiring is as likely as...What was it you said earlier? Oh, that's right. Becoming a suitor."

He shook his head with a snort, watching her reach down onto a lower shelf. Despite her joke, she was right. Dee Dee seemed to have confidence that Mary would accept his apology, and he wanted to believe it to be true. As she walked back up to him, handing him a flat card with stickers of the strange creature and a large, puffy representation of it, her grin said what she thought would become of him.

"She'll like the sheep, and everyone loves stickers," she pointed out.

He felt the odd, curly wool of the stuffed animal at his fingertips, observing how small the head and nubby legs were compared to the rest of its body. "This is a sheep? Strange..."

"That's what humans said about turians," she replied snidely, striding past him.

Tertius rolled his eyes and followed her back to the counter, Dee Dee patting the table as he reached into his pocket for his credit chit.

"Don't worry about it," she said.

"Dee Dee, I can pay for it this time, really," he stated, continuing to look for his payment.

"I said don't worry about it," she answered sternly, though remained grinning.

His mandibles twitched in a smile. "Thank you. I appreciate the help."

"Just say what you need to say to make it better. Otherwise I'll come up there myself and wring your chicken thin neck until you do," she laughed, putting her hands on her hips while he opened the entrance door.

"I believe you would," he commented, tapping his talon upon the glass. "Hey, Dee Dee?"

"Hm?"

"You're, uh...You're a good friend."

His assumption that she could use hearing that appeared to be correct, seeing her eyes soften in a way he had never seen before. Her face moved as if she would say something, but she only nodded a reply. For once, he had finally rendered her speechless. She held her arms as he exited and, when he glanced back briefly to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he could have sworn her smile faded.

With a new found sense of encouragement, he quickly went back to the apartment. There was a moment when he hesitated outside the door, wondering what exactly he should say. He had to think it through, unlike the last time they spoke. It would be awkward and difficult, but it had to be done. He wanted it to be done, if only so they could go back to waiting out the worst of the war in peace.

When he signaled the door to open, he peered into the darkened room to find that the vid screen had been turned up again. For a moment he thought that perhaps she had gone back to watching the rest of that awful vid without him, but there was something...off. She stood abruptly when he walked in and the entrance closed, Tertius remaining still in thinking he had startled her. Mary wasn't looking at him, though. Her eyes were wide and fixed to the images on the screen. He turned his attention to it as he slowly walked towards her, eventually recognizing the static images of a battlefield.

"These vids were smuggled from Berlin almost a week ago! You can't sit there and say that this isn't going on!"

It was some political banter from a Citadel opinion show, arguing whether or not the Council should be taking more extreme measures in the fight against the Reapers. He knew it wasn't their words that made her stand; Tertius was horrified himself over what they were allowed to show. It was fuzzy and highlighted with barely any color, but it was quite obvious what was happening. Men were trying to bring their comrades down from off the spires they had been impaled on, only to be jumped upon and torn apart by the animated shells they had been turned into. He started to realize then that husk was a pretty appropriate name after all. It was a fleeting thought, however, as her panicked breathing filled the air. Gazing to her, he noticed that her face was contorting into an expression of complete terror, her trembling knees bent back as she hunched over slightly. The only thing separating them was the couch, and although Teritus wanted to at least put a comforting hand on her shoulder, he was still unsure of the status between them. He would later regret his doubt.

"I'm..." she rasped, her body suddenly motionless and a small line of water falling to the edges of her chin. "I'm seeing...stars...?"

His chest took in a hurried breath as her eyes rolled back, toppling over and loudly knocking her head onto the corner of the table. The items he held fell out of his hand and he raced to kneel beside her, watching as a trail of blood began to stain the carpet from the gash in her forehead. He lifted the side of her face to inspect the damage, unsure of how serious it was. Though he didn't entirely know what to do, he glanced about the room quickly, his vision falling upon the medi-gel still placed under the table; at least the both of them had been too lazy to put it back in the bathroom. As he reached for it, he paused, noticing something else dripping onto the floor.

An almost full glass of water had tipped over. He didn't remember her drinking all of the glass he had given her; in fact, she had barely touched it. She had barely touched any of her drinks over those last few days. It was then he realized why she became ill, at least a partial reason. Even if he wondered why she would do such a thing, at that moment he didn't really care. There would be time to ask later when she was better.

He placed probably more than what was necessary over the bleeding, making sure it was healing efficiently. Sitting back, he tried to think of what else had to be done, what else he could even do. Her once heavy breathing had become shallow, her form almost lifeless. He tried desperately to remember what he was trained to do in such a vital situation, putting his hand on his markings and tapping his talons until the sound vibrated against his skull with frustration. Was he suppose to use medi-gel? Would she have an allergic reaction since her opened wound had been against where the Palaven wine had spilled? Was she dying? Should he risk calling a doctor?

If it was one thing he could recall, however, it was that at least they shared something in common. Circulatory systems worked with gravity and elevation. Keep the injured area above the heart and it should slow the wound from opening again if what he did wasn't enough. It was something, at least.

He lifted her back off the floor and slid them both towards the bottom portion of the sofa, setting her between his knees to lean her against his chest. It was the best way he could think of to hold her upright and press his hand against her forehead; he didn't even think of how strange it must have looked for a turian to be practically cradling a human in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say. Tertius knew he would have to repeat probably everything he said, but speaking to her like she was awake helped to dampen his nervousness. If anything, perhaps his voice would help her wake up. "I'm sorry for getting angry. I have no right to be. Not if I can't even tell you about your parents. I just...didn't want you to feel like I did. Not like this. Not when you have so many other things to worry about. And you're right. You're no more of a kid than I am, but at least you still have an excuse with your age."

He huffed a shallow laugh, half expecting her eyes to open then. They didn't. Lifting his fingers from off her face, he saw that the medi-gel was stable, repositioning his arm to hold her shoulders more firmly. His hands twitched with anxiety, his back tightening every time he thought she had stopped breathing. A few minutes passed before he subconsciously brought her closer, his brow resting against her hair.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, finding himself continuing in as much of a whisper as his subharmonics would allow. "Please wake—"

"Dum."

Tertius lifted his head in surprise, gazing down to find that her mouth had parted to take in deeper breaths. Her eyes were slits and in a daze, but she weakly lifted her hand, tapping against his leg with each syllable she made

"Dum...Buh-dum bum," she mumbled, pressing her ear against his shirt.

"Mary?" he asked gently, trying to set her completely upright.

A groan escaped her throat as she rolled towards him, her arms limp in her lap as she rested her bloodied face against his breastplate. "Home..."

"What?" he questioned in a relieved yet agitated sigh, remembering to ask her later about her lack of water consumption.

She finally grasped onto his sleeve, Tertius placing a hand on her back when he felt her start to tremble. "Your heartbeat reminds me of home."

It was apparent she was in a delirious state, but he let her sit there, listening to the sounds beneath his skin. Perhaps there was more to her statement than he realized, that something so small as a heartbeat really could be comforting. Then again, hearing her breathing normally was just as consoling. Somehow everything else seemed so trivial then. The arguing, the doubt, the anxiousness—he couldn't remember why it mattered anymore. He was just happy to see her alive, that he would at least have another chance to...

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, Mary lifting her head slowly. He took in a choppy breath, brushing back the hair from her face nervously. Nothing was going to stop him from saying his peace, pride be damned. "I'm sorry, Mary."

She just stared at him, Tertius uncertain if she even knew what was going on. Looking off to the side, she reached for his hand, taking it in both of hers and placing it against her forehead. His mandibles flicked curiously, wondering what she was doing when she just sat there, her grip restraining his fingers. From under his arm he could see her lips flatten like before, her eyes closed.

"I'm sorry, too," she wheezed, continuing to hold onto him as she rested her head back onto his chest. "Please don't stay mad at me."

"I'm not mad," he reassured, slipping his hand away and placing it on her shoulder. "I was just...worried."

"So...we're okay?"

"Yeah."

"Can I go to sleep now?"

He thought about it for a moment, pushing her back lightly to sit on her calves. Deep down he was still concerned, genuinely afraid that if she fell asleep she might not wake up again. Leaning over, he grabbed the tipped over glass on the table and held it out to her.

"Promise you'll drink some water and you can sleep all you want."

She gazed at the glass for a time, even staring through it into his eyes. It was as if she knew what he was thinking, realizing what she had done. Hesitantly she nodded, watching him stand and head into the kitchen. Though she wanted to follow him, she found herself stuck to the floor, her legs unnaturally heavy. She refrained from saying anything, however, at least until she had drunk something. After taking the glass and downing what was there, eventually she felt herself become light enough to rise, her legs still wobbly as she stood with the help of the couch. Mary gazed up when Tertius held out his arm, allowing her to grab his elbow for balance before walking to the closet.

He helped her sit down on her bed and place the puffy blanket wrapped around the bottom bedpost over her. Standing straight, he held up a hand with a pause, filing back out into the other room. She continued sitting up until he returned, rubbing her eyes in wonder to focus on the items in his hands. Tertius set the stuffed sheep beside her and handed her the placard of stickers, sitting down on the floor and leaning his back against the bed frame. He noticed that her lip began to spasm as she smiled as best she could, her vision hazing when she took the sheep into her arms, squeezing it tightly.

"You like it, then?" he asked, Mary nodding.

He stretched his legs out, content with her reply. Though he figured he would sit for a time, waiting and making sure she slept soundly, he was surprised when he felt a pair of arms reach over his shoulders and wrap around his collar, the weight of her head pressing against the back of his carapace. He smiled lightly, knowing her gesture to be a human sign of appreciation. Hugging, he believed it was called. Placing his left hand on the back of hers, he exhaled in a low, tired hum.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up," he stated, her limbs disappearing from view.

"Really?"

He nodded shortly, hearing her fall back into place on her side. It wasn't long before he began to notice the signature whistle from her nose, glancing over his shoulder to find that she was fast asleep. Even if he could have found the strength to move to his own room, he decided to remain next to her, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side. Slowly, but eventually, sleep came to him as well, allowing him to end the horrible day.

Author's Note: First of all, I apologize for getting this out so late. I wanted to post it Saturday, but there were quite a few important things that needed attention last week and I couldn't get to finishing/editing this chapter, (and I didn't want to post something half done. :( ) Things should be pretty back to normal now, though. Second, if anyone cares to know/wants to hear what I was thinking, Tertius's heartbeat is referenced from 'Dragonheart', (ugh, I'm dating myself there, but if you haven't seen that movie DO IT. It's that awesome). My brother and I were watching it the other day and I thought that, if anything, that's what a turian's heart might sound like, especially since I knew I would be writing something about it later on. Then my brother went 'aww' and laughed that I would even think of such a thing out of the blue. XD;