Through the Motions

Charles turned off his alarm clock and rolled over, hand settling onto the empty mattress, Ares' absence sucking all the warmth out of him. He laid there for a few minutes, seriously debating telling work to fuck off and just staying there in bed all day. Eezo yawned and whined, wriggling closer to him before licking his side. Wrapping his arm around her, he buried his fingers in her fur and closed his eyes again.

Eezo only let a few minutes pass, though, before she got restless and started squirming around again, licking him and chewing on his fingers. Letting out a heavy sigh, he threw the covers off and dragged his ass out of bed, headed for the shower. The day was going to suck so bad, but he needed to make himself go through the motions. Once he finished cleaning himself, he dried off and spent a few minutes staring blankly at himself in the mirror, hating the man who looked back. Finally, he picked up his toothbrush and brushed his teeth before fixing his hair and getting dressed.

The entire walk to the park felt like he moved through a haze, detached and unfeeling. An old, familiar friend returned home after a long vacation. He took Eezo off the leash as soon as they passed through the gates, and the dog took off running. Lighting a cigarillo, he made his way over to a bench and sat down, watching as Eezo ran first one way along the garden wall before turning and racing back in the opposite direction.

A minute later, he heard Lindsey's approach, but he didn't turn to look. Instead, he kept his gaze on the black and white blur of fur running laps around one of the flower beds. He took a drag from his cigarillo, only glancing over at Lindsey when she rounded the bench and sat down next to him. She turned sideways, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder before resting her elbow on the back of the bench. Her gaze roamed over him, searching for something, and he just wished she'd go away.

"Hey," she said, voice soft and sympathetic, "are you feeling any better today?"

Taking a long, heavy drag from his cigarillo, he let the smoke seep back out of him as he weighed out his response. "Yeah, I'm alright," he said, turning his attention back out at Eezo.

"You don't look alright." Doubt filled her voice.

He let out a soft snort, glancing at her again. "Thanks."

"No!" She chuckled, reaching over to playfully slap his arm. "I didn't mean it like that, although … you definitely have looked better. I just meant you look kind of … sad, I guess."

Sucking in a deep breath, he forced a smile on his face. "I'm alright, Lindsey."

She huffed. "Why is it anytime there's clearly something bothering a man, he has to lie and try to hide from it?"

Charles smoked his cigarillo in silence for a minute, watching Eezo play. It really wasn't any of Lindsey's damn business what was wrong with him, but he knew the woman was just trying to be nice. And she'd just done him a big favor by looking after Eezo for a few days. He wouldn't tell her anything about Ares, or even their fight, but he should tell her something.

Finally, he glanced at her again and said, "A few days ago I found out my dad died and day before yesterday I signed the paperwork for the lawyers back home to take care of everything. It's just got my head a little messed up right now, but I'll be alright."

Lindsey threw her arms around his neck, and Charles froze. "Oh, Charles! I'm so sorry!"

She was pretty, warm, and soft. She smelled so sweet. Any other day and Charles might be inclined to make a move on her, even knowing Mahlia liked Lindsey. But just then, he hated the feel of the woman pressed against his shoulder. He swallowed and reached up, patting her shoulder, and she disentangled herself from him but left one of her hands pressed between his shoulder blades.

"Don't be," he said, taking a drag from his cigarillo. "He was an abusive asshole."

"You keep looking at your omni-tool and Aelianus' scent is fading." Cammus sat a box down on the table next to Charles. "He's shipped out, hasn't he?"

"Yeah," Charles said, closing his omni-tool.

Cammus turned and leaned against the table, crossing his arms. "How long will he be gone?"

Taking a deep breath, Charles shook his head. "I don't know."

"Is this why you've been so …?" Cammus trailed off with a soft, hesitant sounding trill.

Hesitating, Charles lowered his gaze to the floor in front of his feet, pressing his palms against the table. When he finally did speak, his voice came out soft but strained, "We had a bad argument, and he left without saying anything. I still haven't heard anything from him."

Cammus hummed, the sound sympathetic. "Have you tried calling him?"

"No …" Charles sucked in a deep breath, letting it rush back out of him. "… I don't think he wants to talk to me."

Cammus let out a soft rumble. "I doubt that's true. The two of you are bonded, it's obvious he loves you."

You don't really know him, you didn't get to meet the real Ares.

Charles turned his head to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Is it? He's got an odd way of showing it sometimes."

Cammus chuckled, turning back to the box. "Of course, I smelled it on him as easily as I smell it on you." He shrugged, digging through the box until he found what he wanted and set it aside. "Maybe he's not sure you want to talk to him."

I doubt it.

"Maybe." Charles left the table, bringing the conversation to an end for the time being.

It took him a couple minutes to find the product number matching the manifest, the new layout of the shelves throwing him off. Finally finding the crate of miniature mass relay statuettes, he pulled one out and carried it back over to the table. They worked in silence for a few minutes, moving back and forth between the shelves as they pulled items to fill orders.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Cammus asked when they were both standing together at the table again. "To a bar or something?" He sounded both doubtful and hopeful all at once, and under other circumstances, Charles might've found it adorable. "Maybe it'll help to get your mind off of Aelianus for a while."

Charles hung his head again, staring at his feet. He shook his head and looked back up, meeting the turian's gaze. "I, uh … I don't think I'd be very good company tonight, Cammus."

Cammus let out a soft chuckle. "I think you're missing the point, but it's alright. Just let me know if you change your mind."

"Thanks." Charles did his best to give him a grateful smile, but he knew it fell flat.

Charles sat on the couch, the lights still off but the vidscreen on, playing through the Citadel news. Brandon Majors and his friend, Eric Flanagan, were nothing but a footnote, their names and mention of an ongoing investigation flitting across the screen on a news ticker. It was Aiden Jackson's face occupying the majority of the screen, though. After neighbors complained of a foul odor coming from his apartment, C-Sec was called in to investigate and found his corpse. He'd rented the apartment under the alias Mark Anders, but forensics identified him as Aiden.

"Authorities are currently withholding details of the murder, but our sources say it may be related to another open investigation, the murder of Ethan Rorschach." The turian on the screen fluttered his mandibles and glanced down at a datapad on the table in front of him before looking at the screen again. "Citadel Security is once again asking anyone who may know anything about either of these deaths to please come forward."

The camera shifted to a baby-blue asari with pale purple markings along her crest. "Matriarch dignitaries of Thessia will be visiting the Citadel this week—"

Charles turned off the vidscreen, leaving nothing but what little light trickled into the living room from the opened bathroom door. He sucked in a deep breath and tilted his head back, letting it rest against the couch. Taking a drag from his cigarillo, he finished it off and leaned forward, stamping it out in the ashtray. He opened his omni-tool—still no word from Ares—and debated sending Ares a message for a few seconds, but what would he even say? Instead, he stood up from the couch and turned on the light, placing a call to Cammus.

The turian smiled at him when he answered the call. "Charles. Did you change your mind?"

"Yeah." Charles pursed his lips a little and nodded. "Yeah, I think I did. Give me a half-hour and meet me over at The Palisade." Why not go back to the same bar he got trashed at the night he fucked it all up?

"The Palisade?" Cammus hummed, mandibles fluttering. "That's right around the corner from me. I'll head over, save us seats."

Charles nodded, raking a hand through his hair. "Alright, I'll see you soon."

Cammus gave him a pleased smile and cut the call. Charles made his way to his bedroom and dug through his closet and dresser, finding something decent to wear. He stripped to his boxers and took a few minutes to stare into the mirror on the back of his closet door, reaching up to trace the scars of Ares' bite along his shoulder. Even just touching the scars sent a chill through him, making him long for Ares, and leaving him feeling empty inside.

He got dressed, nudging Eezo out of the way when she became excited and started jumping up and down, trying to scramble up his legs. "You're staying here, sweetheart." Making his way to the bathroom, he ran his hands through his hair, touselling it a little before grabbing his cigarillos and heading for the door.

It took him ten minutes on foot to get to the bar, and as soon as he stepped inside, a krogan bouncer next to the door gave him a warning glare. Charles offered him an apologetic smile and held up a hand. He glanced around, spotting Cammus sitting at the bar, talking to another turian. Lighting a cigarillo, he made his way over, narrowing his eyes at the woman sitting with Cammus until it clicked into place: she was the turian who got thrown out the night of the fight, too.

She saw him before Cammus did, and she tilted her head. Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she smiled at him. Cammus glanced over his shoulder—seeming to look for what drew her attention—and spotted Charles. Mandibles flicking, he smiled and waved Charles over before turning his head back to the woman he sat with. They both turned back to him as he slid onto a stool around the corner of the bar on Cammus' right.

Cammus fluttered his mandibles, something mischievous in his eyes. "Acevia just told me an interesting story."

"Did she?" Charles glanced at the woman—Acevia, apparently—and pulled an ashtray over closer to him.

Acevia hummed and smiled, lifting her shoulder in a light shrug before picking up her glass.

"She said she saw you in here the other night," Cammus said, flicking an amused mandible, "and when a fight broke out, you jumped into the middle of it."

Charles chuckled, the sound dry and false in his ears. He took a drag of his cigarillo and blew the smoke out at the ceiling. "If I recall, she jumped right in the middle of it, too." He ran his fingers over one of his bruises. "In fact, I'm pretty sure she hit me a couple of times."

Acevia laughed, setting her glass back down. "You got me, too."

"Sorry about that." Charles took another drag, flicking the ashes.

She laughed again, the sound rich and joyous, and so completely out of place in the heavy, dark fog surrounding Charles. "Don't apologize, it was a good fight. And I think you needed it. I saw you when you first came in, you were carrying a lot of anger, trying to wash it away by drinking." She flicked a mandible. "You're untrained, but you fight fiercely and you wear the scent of your lover like a sweet perfume. How could I not be lured into battle?"

Charles smirked at the poetic declaration. The idea of Ares' scent being enticing enough to draw another turian into a fight brought him a hint of amusement and a touch of pride. He felt sure Ares would've loved to hear it, if not for the fact she was talking about an incident which made him feel like Charles didn't care about anything but himself. "I don't even know how it all got started."

"Does it matter?" Acevia picked up her drink, taking a heavy swallow before setting it down again. "The two salarians were bickering with one another." She waved a dismissive hand. "Something about a research project and how to proceed. One of them pushed the other, and he stumbled back into the quarian, making him spill his drink. The quarian must've been pretty drunk already because he immediately took a swing. From there?" She shrugged and waved her hand again. "It's hard to say, but there you were, fire in your eyes and a smile on your face."

"Hmmm." Cammus fluttered his mandibles. "Fierce? Too bad I didn't get the chance to see it myself."

Charles huffed, taking a drag and forcing a smile on his face. "The night's still young."

Laughing, Cammus reached over and patted his shoulder. "Perhaps another night? After your face heals?"

Charles nodded, catching the bartender's eye and waving her over. He ordered Mount Milgrom, but Cammus insisted on paying. Charles didn't have it in him to put up a fight, so he let the turian add it to his tab. Drinking and smoking in silence for a minute, Charles watched Cammus and Acevia, taking in their flirty body language and feeling like a third wheel.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

"So, Charles," Acevia said, drawing his attention to the red-brown markings on her gray plates. "Do you make a habit of getting in the middle of fights in bars?" She pointed a finger at him, waving it at his face. "You came in here the other night already bruised up."

Charles took a drag and followed it up with a drink. "I wouldn't say it's a habit, no, but the last couple of months or so have been pretty … intense."

She hummed, crossing her arms on the bar and leaning over a little, putting her closer to Cammus. "What do you do to relax?"

Kill people.

Charles chuckled, gaze flicking to Cammus. "Fuck. Drink. Play with my dog. Get into fights, apparently."

Acevia fluttered her mandibles, brow plates raising. "You have one of those furry creatures? The ones that love to make so much noise?"

"Her name's Eezo," Cammus offered, and it was clear the level of familiarity such a statement implied wasn't lost on Acevia. "She's not very big yet, but Charles said she's still young." He hummed, tilting his head a little as he picked up his beer bottle. "His bondmate seems less than fond of her, however."

Charles snorted, bringing his cigarillo up to his mouth but paused to say, "He's not really fond of much of anything." He took a deep drag, letting the smoke seep from his nose. "You met him on a good day." Taking a heavy swallow from his glass, he carefully set it down on the bar, turning it back and forth between his fingers. He glanced back up, letting his gaze shift between Cammus and Acevia. "So, do you two know each other, or …?"

"Oh, no." Cammus glanced at the other turian and smiled. "We just met before you showed up."

"He's handsome." Acevia smirked and lifted a shoulder. "I thought I might buy him a drink while he waited." She flared her mandibles, gaze slipping back and forth between Charles and Cammus. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "Not at all."

Cammus fluttered his mandibles, humming softly as his gaze roamed over the other turian. "What do you do, Acevia?"

"I work at Saronis Applications." She smiled, propping an elbow on the bar and resting her chin in her palm, talons curled in against her mandible. "What about you?"

"I work at Citadel Souvenirs." Cammus hummed, nodding his head at Charles. "We both do. It's how I met Charles."

"Oh?" She raised a brow plate, glancing between Cammus and Charles. "How's the pay there?"

"Shit," Charles said, putting out his cigarette and killing off his drink.

Cammus chuckled. "It's not so bad." He waved at the bartender, catching the asari's eye before gesturing at Charles' empty glass.

Charles knocked back his fourth drink, the buzz surrounding his head doing nothing to chase Ares from his thoughts despite his best efforts. Cammus and Acevia chatted quietly with one another, laughing every now and again. It seemed pretty clear the two of them all but forgot Charles was even there, despite it being Cammus' idea for them to go out together. It was alright, though, Charles really wasn't in the best state of mind, and he wanted Cammus to enjoy himself.

He finished his cigarillo and stood up, laying his hand on Cammus' shoulder. "I think I'm going to head out, call it a night."

"You sure?" Cammus flared his mandibles looking up at Charles, concern flashing through his eyes.

Charles forced a weak smile on his face. "Yeah … I'm just not really feeling up to much tonight."

"Well," Cammus said, starting to turn on his stool, foot sliding off the lip at the base of the bar to the floor, "give me just a second. I'll walk you home."

"No," Charles said, squeezing his shoulder. "I'll be alright. You stay here, enjoy yourself." He tilted his head toward Acevia and winked. "I'll see you at work tomorrow." He patted Cammus' shoulder when he smiled and nodded. Turning to Acevia, he held out his hand. "Acevia, it was good meeting you, you know, properly."

Chuckling, she shook his hand. "You, too, Charles. Have a good night."

"Thanks." He stepped away, giving them a half-assed wave. "You, too."

He turned and made his way for the door, pulling out his cigarillos. He nodded his head at the krogan bouncer on his way passed and stopped just outside the door to light his cigarillo. Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around his razor and started walking. He wondered where Ares went, if he'd taken another job already, or if he just kept running as far away from Charles as possible. Wondered if he the asshole turian was safe. Wondered if he thought about Charles as much as Charles thought about him … and if he did, what he was thinking.

Charles still felt mad about the whole damn thing. He didn't think Ares was being very fair … but he blamed himself. Ares was right about one thing at least, Charles should've been better at keeping his shit together when Ares needed him, but he didn't deserve to be talked to the way Ares did. He told Ares he had issues and wasn't any good at the whole relationship thing, he didn't know what the fuck he was doing, but he tried his best.

So why the fuck does he expect so much out of me?

He took his time walking, dragging it out, not really wanting to return to the empty apartment. Sitting down on the edge of a planter, he opened his omni-tool, checking for probably the twentieth time that day to see if he'd missed a message from Ares. Finding nothing waiting for him, he pulled up the C-Sec tracking program and started flipping through rap sheets. He stopped on a picture of a turian named Thatius Calinar who'd been arrested twice for assault with a deadly weapon. He took a drag from his cigarillo, eyeing the turian on the screen before moving on. Thatius didn't call to him. Not the way the others did.

He stopped again on a picture of a human man named Mickey Kilpatrick. The man served time for spousal and child abuse back on Earth before moving to the Citadel. Since living on the Citadel, he'd been arrested for more trivial things: drunken disorderly, theft, and operating a skycar beyond the legal speed limits. Charles stared at the picture for a couple of minutes, finishing his cigarillo as he added the man to his mental list.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he closed the program and then his omni-tool before pushing away from the planter. He made his way back to his apartment and went inside, leaving the lights off. Eezo appeared like a ghost in the night, circling around his feet. Squatting down, he threaded his fingers through her fur and scratched, leaning in to press his head against the dog. Eezo let out a little whine and wriggled back enough to lick his face.

Patting her head, Charles stood up again and made his way to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a Paragade and cracked the lid. He took a couple of swallows before closing it and putting it back in the refrigerator. He turned, pressing his palms against the counter and let his head hang down between his shoulders. His chest ached with the hollow feeling inside, leaving him feeling drained and exhausted, yet restless at the same time.

He made his way to the bedroom, Eezo at his heels, and stripped out of his clothes. Picking his pants up off the floor, he emptied his pockets out onto his dresser and stopped with his razor in his hand. For years, he kept the blade locked away in the dark, tucked inside his father's Alliance tin right next to the lock of Sarah's hair. He only pulled it out when things got really bad, when he needed to feel something. Since Shanxi, though, the razor went with him everywhere. He cleaned it meticulously after each kill, doing his best to get deep inside all of the crevices. He knew if C-Sec got ahold of it, though, they'd break it apart and find blood he couldn't get to, but he couldn't bring himself to ever leave it behind.

He needed to feel something.

Charles swallowed, fingers trembling.

He needed to feel pain.

Closing his fist around the razor, he pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath. Blood splashed on the backs of his eyelids, but it didn't belong to one of his kills. It was his blood, spilling down his arms and legs, pouring out of wounds far deeper than any he'd ever made on himself. Opening his eyes, he tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened ceiling and sucked in a deep breath. His pulse pounded in his temples, echoed like the deafening roar of the sea in his ears.

He looked down at the razor in his hand, the dim light coming from the bathroom casting shadows over the curve of the handle. Brushing his thumb back and forth over the cool metal, he flicked his wrist, and the razor snapped open. He turned it until light glinted off the deadly metal, feeling it call to him.

The beast purred.

Only half aware of what he was doing, Charles headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before Eezo followed. He stood there, staring at the razor, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. Mouth and throat dry, he swallowed and grabbed a couple of towels off the rack before sitting down on the floor, pulling the first aid kit out from under the sink. He just sat there for a moment, the odd, almost tranquil, detached feeling settling over him. Almost more like he watched himself rather than actively participating, but he knew he could stop at any time. If he wanted to.

"Charles … you don't have to do this." Sarah's voice filled his head.

He didn't want to stop.

As soon as the blade touched his thigh, his hand steadied. He pressed a little, watching the first drops of blood well up, and then he pressed a little harder. The fresh wound sent pain signals to his brain, but it felt distant, more like a memory than the real thing. Slowly, he pulled the razor across his skin, sucking in a deep breath as blood spilled out in thick rivulets, severed nerve endings cut so cleanly it took a second for his brain to catch up with the fresh shock of pain.

"You worthless piece of shit." His father's voice, thick, oily, and acrid like poison on the back of his tongue. "Why don't you do us all a favor and just kill yourself?"

Moving the razor further up, he dug it into his thigh again, slicing it through his flesh, groaning as his mind slipped away to the place of darkness. It surrounded him, choked him, threatened to pull him under completely and drown him in blood and screams. Slithered through his veins and danced to the beat of his pulse. He rode out the feeling, soaking it in and letting it wrap itself around his soul.

"You should've died in that goddamned parking lot. What right do you have to live when Sarah's dead, you fucking faggot?"

Another cut. So much blood.

"Did you really think killing me and cutting up a few guys would somehow make your life matter? You couldn't even handle that without your skull-faced, ass-fucker boyfriend. Your life doesn't matter. To anyone, you useless piece of shit. Not even him, you're just a hole for him to fuck."

And another, far deeper than the others.

"Stop being a fucking idiot!" Ares' growl sounded so loud, so intense, Charles could almost believe he was actually there.

Tears filled his eyes, and he let the razor drop to the floor. He'd never heard Ares' voice before. Not like that, not the way he heard his father's and sometimes his sister's voices. Somehow, it hurt worse, and it filled him with shame. He pulled the towel over, smearing the blood over his leg as he tried to wipe it away, shaking as he fruitlessly tried to undo the damage already done. The blood just kept pouring, though.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He pressed the towel to the wounds, hissing through his teeth, the fresh waves of pain sending nausea rolling through him. He scrambled over to the toilet, throwing the lid up just before the first spasm hit, making him retch as the sting of stomach acid and alcohol rushed back up his throat. He fought to keep the towel pressed to his leg, distantly aware of the whines and barks of Eezo just outside the door, as he emptied his stomach into the toilet, tears still streaming down his face.

He stumbled to his bed, soaking wet from the shower and shaking. It hurt to stand, hurt to walk, but the pain kept him moving forward. Medi-gel tugged uncomfortably at the wounds with each step. His bathroom was a mess, he had to shut the door behind him to keep Eezo out of there, drawn to the scent of blood. He'd have to get up early, clean it all up before he left for work. He didn't want to go to work, but he had to. Had to, because if he didn't … he'd spend the entire day at home, laying in the dark, hating himself even more. God only knew what he might do.

Collapsing on the bed, he pulled the covers up around him, tucking them in under his chin while he tried to warm himself. He shivered, feeling weak and sick inside. Eezo sat down on the floor in front of him, letting out a soft whine. He reached out, patting the edge of the bed and lifted the covers for her when she jumped up there with him. She curled in against his chest, and he pulled the blankets back in over them, not even caring when her fur stuck to his damp skin or the faint scent of wet dog hitting his nose a minute after.

When he finally stopped trembling, he pulled his arms out of the blankets and rolled over enough to open his omni-tool. He activated an empty message and put in Ares' contact information, but then he hesitated, watching the cursor blink in and out of existence in the message box, waiting for him to type. He didn't know what to say, didn't think Ares would want to hear anything he might say anyway. But he needed to try.

"I'm sorry. I love you." It wasn't much, but even that sucked the last little bit of willpower right out of Charles. He hit send and closed the omni-tool, rolling back over and pulling Eezo in against his chest.