CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: A Little Understanding

The next morning, Tris tries to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and his mind. He's exhausted and drained, and he just feels kind of empty. He's not entirely sure why. Sure, last night was tough on him, with the nightmares and overthinking and everything, but today is a new day. And just like always, today he needs to keep it together, so he really doesn't have time for this, and he shouldn't feel this way anyway.

So he was ripped from his home. Big deal. People have it worse than him. Just look at the exiles, living like this, where they're at a point they can die and no one cares enough to even move their bodies, or they're the people stepping over them where they're to the point they can't afford the luxury of caring about others. They have it so much worse than him, so he really can't complain, can he?

So he tries to wipe the night from his mind, and greets Reyes with a smile when the smuggler joins him early the next morning. He comes bearing a plate of food and some water, so Tris is more than happy to see him even if he doesn't feel all that hungry. The food smells good, better than the stew yesterday made with some unknown meat, and he happily guzzles down the offered meal and finishes his water.

"Thanks," he says. "You didn't have to do that."

Reyes watches him for a moment. "Well, you didn't have to bury that body, but you did, so I felt I could at least give you breakfast in bed, or a close equivalent."

Tris smirks. "Keep that up and people will start thinking you care."

"And there goes my reputation. I worked hard for that, you know."

"I can imagine. So, are we going to see this new body?"

"We'll get to that," Reyes says. "First, there are some people who have been trying to get in contact with you."

"What?"

"Apparently you haven't been answering your vid-calls," Reyes says, shrugging. "When your crew couldn't reach you, they contacted me, since I was your contact. So I'm telling you to call them before they decide to take their frustrations out on me." He quirks a brow at Tris. "You said they were a protective bunch. I can see what you mean, but you still haven't told me why they thought that was necessary."

Tris shrugs, more than a little stunned. "I don't quite know the answer to that myself," he says quietly.

The crew tried to contact him? Why did the calls not go through? And when they couldn't contact him they sought out Reyes to check on him?

It knocks a little too close to his thoughts and worries of last night, and he's left swallowing thickly. Reyes's expression softens, leaving Tris wondering what the smuggler can possibly see on his face.

"They're worried about you. You should give them a call."

"I don't know why they couldn't get a hold of me," he says, shaking his head. He brings up his arm and taps the digital display his omni-tool can offer if he accesses it. It glows orange, but there's a signal interference.

A signal interference? That doesn't make sense. If there's interference, how could they reach Reyes but not him?

"Uh… looks like my tool isn't working properly. Maybe it happened in the vault."

"The vault?" Reyes asks. "You mean when your family left you for dead."

He shrugs. "Yeah, that. I woke up on the ground and my SAM implant was all… shorted. Not working. Must have happened to my omni-tool too but no one thought to check and I haven't needed it recently." It's the only explanation he has, the only thing that even comes close to making sense.

"You can use mine," Reyes offers.

Tris nods. "Maybe later. It's early, and they're probably busy."

"I didn't peg you as someone with avoidance issues."

He scowls. "I'm not avoiding them, I'm just… alright. I'm avoiding the matter. Can we talk about something else?"

"Why avoid them? They seem to care about you."

"They're great," Tris says, sighing, looking away. "Don't get me wrong, they're great. But I just… I don't know. I'm not used to people being so…"

"Friendly?" Reyes offers.

"Sure. I mean, I had friends back home, don't get me wrong, but they're just… they're a little overbearing sometimes. I'm not used to the attention, and now they're getting into fights with the Pathfinder because of me, and-"

"Fights?"

"Liam kind of, well, punched my father in the face. Which is awesome, and I wish I could have seen it, but at the same time that's his boss and he has to respect him and I just feel like I'm ruining things with everyone because they think they have to protect me and they don't because they're my family and they won't hurt me but they just keep trying to help me and it's so strange and frustrating and-"

"Take a breath."

Tris inhales deeply, unaware he'd been rambling so quickly. "I just… it's… I don't know."

"Overwhelming."

"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to verbally throw up on you."

"I'd prefer that to the literal vomit, thank you."

Tris smirks. "You're deceptively easy to talk to. I'll have to remember that."

"Maybe you just need a neutral third party."

"Still. I shouldn't be throwing all this on you. Sorry. I'm sure you have your own problems."

"I do, but what good are having problems if you can't share them with someone?"

"Is this that 'I can be your friend' thing you keep mentioning?" Tris asks, quirking a brow at the smuggler.

Reyes smirks. "I take it you weren't hugged enough as a child. You brush off affection and friendship, which is why you think your new friends are smothering you."

"They're not…" Tris trails off, uncertain how to finish.

They're not my friends. But they kind of are, because friendship is a general enjoyment in someone else's company, isn't it? And he likes hanging out with Peebee and Liam, and talking to Drack and Gil and everything. So maybe they are his friends, even if they haven't known each other all that long.

They're not smothering me. But they kind of are, because he's not used to this. He's not used to people caring like this, to people trying to protect him. To people worrying about him. It's all so strange, and he's not sure how to handle it.

"Let's go find the body," Tris says.

Reyes blinks at him. "You want to head out without calling them?"

"Yes," he says. "That's exactly what I want to do."

Because he can't deal with this right now, not when his head is all messed up. Maybe later, when he's time to cool down and think about it and explain to himself that people here have things so much worse than him, so he can't complain. He can't complain because at least he has family here. At least he has… friends. And there are so many people here that are less fortunate, so what if his family kidnapped him and brought him here against his will? At least he's not alone, right?

I'm not alone. The thought takes a moment to permeate his mind, but when it does, he feels his breath catch in his throat. He's not alone. All this time he's been lamenting all that he's lost, but he's gained a lot too.

He's gained friends. It doesn't make up for what happened and it doesn't erase what he lost, but it's a start. A start in the right direction. Because people do care about him here, if he'll let himself have it.

But he can't talk to them right now, because today he has to keep it together. Maybe tomorrow.

"Are you sure?" Reyes asks.

"I'm sure. Let's go."

He pushes to his feet and stretches his stiff muscles. Sleeping on this bench seat is really doing him in, but at least he has somewhere safe-ish to stay. This is Reyes's private back room, after all. He doesn't ask how the smuggler has his own back room in Tartarus, or why no one else ever seems to come inside even though it's supposed to be a planet of hostile exiles.

Reyes leads the way out of Tartarus and out of the shadow of the mountain. There waits an ATV-type vehicle, great for off-road, bumpy travel much like the Nomad is designed to be, though that apparently controls badly. They don't wear helmets, but that's okay; Tris has his own helmet with his gear, but doesn't bother putting it on because Kadara is at least livable, unlike those other planets.

Eos is radioactive and hot, and while that is changing slowly, he can only go without a helmet in the safe zones, according to what he's heard. He remembers burning in his armor, sweating with his helmet, and doesn't wish to repeat that experience. And then on Voeld, it was too cold to venture anywhere without his helmet, as even with the life support systems built into his armor, the cold was almost too much. Hopefully the vault will fix that, but thinking about that just opens a whole new set of worries so he shoves that aside.

Kadara isn't like Eos or Voeld, though. It's a refreshing change to let the wind rush across his face and through his hair as he rides on the back of the ATV, big enough for two people comfortably. The air is humid, and the sun is hot, but there's a nice breeze which evens it out. There's green plantlife he doesn't realize he's missed until now. It reminds him of Earth and a pang of longing shoots through him momentarily, before he forces it away.

He's not sure how long they drive, but that's okay because he's more than content to check out the scenery. This small bit of normalcy is almost relaxing, in a way. Tense muscles loosen in his shoulders and he enjoys the ride more than he thought he would.

Eventually, they come to a stop atop a large hill, with two structures built as houses. They go to the one in the back, and Reyes stays outside so he doesn't 'contaminate Tris's findings', whatever that means. Tris can see where he's coming from, though, and doesn't argue as he enters the house.

The body is still inside. He's not sure why that bothers him, because he already knows people don't think it's their problem to move the bodies here, and this is pretty far from Kadara Port where the majority of the people seem to be, so it's really no shock that the body is still here. Insects buzz around much as they did with the previous body, and for a moment Tris simply stares down at the mutilated krogan.

They tortured this krogan. Pulled back his plate and cut him deep, and it would have been long and painful, and this krogain died in agony. Tris doesn't realize his hands are clenched into fists until the pressure builds and he has to relax his fingers or risk straining something. He clenches his teeth until his jaw aches and circles the krogan, eying the blood trail and the bloody footprints. The footprints don't look all that familiar, but they nag at something in his mind.

Jaal, he thinks. They remind him of the angaran footprints in the snow on Voeld. Does that mean these bloody footprints are angaran?

He follows the trail through the house. Outside, on the porch, the footprints stop as the assailant apparently jumped over the railing to land on the grassy ground below. Tris bites his lip and looks around, and spots a knife resting precariously on the corner of a box at the edge of the porch. There's a strange series of marks and symbols on it, something familiar yet strange. He can't figure out why it pulls at something in his mind, something forgotten, something unseen…

He blinks, and the feeling passes.

It's just a knife, with strange symbols.

He looks over the railing and catches Reyes watching him. Their eyes meet and Reyes's expression softens again. His eyes lighten, his lips twitch downward slightly, and he takes a small step forward seemingly without realizing he's doing it.

"What did you find?" the smuggler calls to him.

Tris shrugs. "I don't know. Some footprints, and a knife. This krogan suffered."

"I'm sorry," Reyes says. "What kind of footprints?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "They kind of look angaran but I don't really know them that well, and haven't been around them that long, so I don't know if I'm really the best judge of that."

"And the knife?"

"Some strange symbols on it. Kind of looks like a ceremonial dagger of sorts. I don't know."

Reyes nods, like that makes sense to him. "I worried as much."

"You know what it means? Who it is?"

Tris hopes so, because this krogan didn't deserve to suffer like that, and the body from yesterday didn't deserve to rot in the street like that.

"What do you know of the Roekaar?"