"Now what! Now What! Say something else… say something else! That's what I thought! That's what I thought!" Rage continued, as she was drug out into the hallway in handcuffs.
"Close your mouth and stop struggling," a male prison guard yelled as he helped escort Rage to a holding cell.
Rage would do no such thing; blood boiling, eyes red and watery. It didn't take much to set her off, and once she was at that level, there was little else that could reach her. Rage had a bad habit of letting her anger control her. It was something that had started in her youth. Having never known their parents, Rage and Ryu often had to resort to violence in order to survive.
One of her earliest memories involved a fight, which left her bloody and bruised. She didn't win, but it was a valuable lesson in pain tolerance, and it lifted the veil on new opportunities. Since Ryu wouldn't let her sell her body, Rage began street fighting. Ryu soon joined in after his sister's first win. That's how they were able to eat. But it was Gavorn who took them in, ultimately putting a roof over their heads, and warm food in their bellies. But it was not without a price.
Rage was cursing by this point as she was carried into a cell at the far end of the hall. Her thin legs thrashed violently; threatening to kick the officers, but they held her securely enough to avoid any injury. Plus, the guards were dressed in riot gear for good measure.
It had been a while since Rage had gotten to this point. But now that she was here, a part of her, the only rationale left; seemed to miss this feeling. She missed letting the anger consume her because that was what she was most familiar with. Anger, rage; it was her identity and had been for a long time. Fighting was a double edged sword for her. At one end, she was able to lose all control, but at the other end; when her fist starting flying, she felt that winning or losing was the one thing she could control. It was complicated, but it was her.
With her head banging against the padded wall, Rage could do very little else since her limbs were still bound. She resorted to gritting her teeth together, a strenuous noise leaking from her tiring vocals; eyes now bloodshot. Her skin, as pale as dead grass, was ripe with perspiration. So much so that her one-piece uniform was damp.
A doctor had been paged, and he was now making his way into the room to sedate her.
This wasn't the first time Rage had to be sedated. Blacking out or having to be pried off her opponent was the norm for Rage. Her brother fought too, but he used to have more self-control, that was until the heavy drug use. Now he was just as much a loose cannon as his sister.
"I'll kill all of you!" she ranted, thrashing her body as best she could; having no regard for her belly. The anger wasn't good for her babies, but Rage was in a place, a selfish and bitter place that acknowledge only one truth: no one messes with her without reaping the deadly consequences.
This was prison after all. Those who were seen as weak were easy pickings.
"Ssssssh!" The doctor sang while others struggled to hold her still.
Rage spit at the doctor but he dodged it.
"Just calm down, Rage. Think about your children." He attempted, large bug-like eyes blinking rapidly.
She'd never been able to take solarians seriously. Their faces were just too punched in and funny looking. Yet, the human was at a place where she could neither laugh, nor cry. So much was built up inside her—the stress of it all had always been taking a toll.
The needle went in as her mouth fired out every racial slur and curse word in the book. Once the medicine hit her vein, the effect was near instantaneous. Her warm body felt as if it were going numb.
Rage continued in a venomous tone, attacking the male guards' masculinity; the words now coming out in a drunken cacophony of ignorance. Her eyelids, once feathers, now iron weights, slowly pressing their way down, over her green irises. Her blood pressure was through the roof, but it wouldn't be for long. She felt her body relax, as if death were sweeping its hand over her. The bodies of several guards backed up, releasing the human. Her mouth still motioned, however, little if any of it was actual dialogue.
Her last words: "I hate you all."
#
"If you don't want to go back, you don't have to."
Garrus glanced up at the white light, glowing so bright that it should've been blinding, but he was able to look straight into it without straining his eyes. A being stood in the center of this light, his silhouette staring back at Garrus as he spoke.
"I don't want to go back." Garrus answered quickly and prematurely.
"Garrus?" The turian turned his head to see his mother standing next to him. She had been standing there since they'd first began talking to this supreme being.
"You're time is not yet finished." Her peaceful look had shifted to one of worry.
"But he just said I …"
Before Garrus could finish his sentence, the superior being known as The Great Spirit, spoke; his voice sounding like powerful thunder. "Your bond-mate is with child."
Garrus's mandibles clapped against his face, steel colored brow-plates, once sitting contently upon his forehead, now sinking just above his blue eyes.
"Bond-mate? I don't have a bond-mate."
"Jane, son," Garrus's mother added. "She's carrying your seed."
Garrus couldn't feel pain. The place he was in didn't allow it. It didn't allow confusion to fester, or worry. These emotions came like a sun shower, brief and puny compared to the overwhelming joy he'd been experiencing. But for a brief moment, he was able to express what was once forbidden. Garrus felt an overwhelming pressure in his gut, pressing down as if it were a rod of steel. His heart thudded in his chest, causing him to feel winded and lightheaded. He soon dropped; not to his knees, just somewhere in between standing and kneeling.
Before Garrus was able to speak, a vison came to him, showing 'Jane' on a bed in prison, her stomach bulging, skin pale and clammy. The vision was more like a projection… no, it was a projection: so real that he could reach out and touch. Seeing her lying on that mattress, the projection zoomed in to her protruding belly. X-ray vision was then granted to him, seeing three developing souls, dressed in a soft sheen of turian and human flesh. The babies were in their own little sacks, cradled in such a way that could only be described as perfect peace.
Garrus felt his hand moving to the projection when the image suddenly changed to his sister who was sitting at his bedside in the hospital. The instant flip in imagery caused him to flinch; feelings of overwhelming confusion mixed with shock, now giving way to another revelation. Sol was caressing his arm, tears running down her face, mandibles trembling. She was saying soft words to him.
Garrus was able to stand back up, sober enough to take a step closer, the image expanding itself, so that it seemed as if he was right there with her. That's when it hit him. He was dead… or dying. Seeing his body for the first time, Garrus wasn't afraid, not that fear was aloud in such a place. But he did feel sadness—it was granted to him just for this moment.
#
"Garrus," Sol began, her words brokenly surfing her choked up vocals. "I don't know if you can hear me…."
Garrus stepped closer. "I can hear you," he replied in a soft, yet direct tone of voice.
"But if you can, I… Rage is pregnant with your babies." She continually rubbed his hand as she spoke. "I've been messaging her and visiting when I can." Her mouth then motioned, hesitantly at first. "I didn't want to believe it, but… I think she… does love you." Tears fell down her plated cheeks. "A human." Her tone was something short of disgust, confusion with deject maybe; she couldn't quite pinpoint it due to the overwhelming sadness. "Who would've guessed it?" She tried to make light of the situation but it did nothing to quell the huge knot that had been in her soul sense her brother was admitted to the hospital.
The silence just poured into the room as she took a moment to compose herself. Sol was teetering on the brink of a meltdown.
Still rubbing his arm, Sol continued out of fear of losing control. "Sometimes I feel like you're the only family I've got, Garrus, so please… please… come back. I need you. Nihlus needs you. Your kids need you." Her voice was a whisper. "I love you."
Garrus felt the weight of a tear run down his armored cheek as the image shrunk into oblivion.
"Still want to stay?" The voice emanating from this being was so beautiful, yet terrifying.
And Garrus found the Great Spirit's tone to be flirting with sarcasm. Garrus's eyes were still on the spot where the projection had faded. His head eventually shifted to face his mother.
She placed her hand just above his mandible, caressing the hardened plate. Garrus placed his hand over his mom's busy one, turning lightly to kiss her palm; a human gesture that summed up his response.
"I've been so lost without you." He struggled, trying to keep his tone level.
His mom softened her smile, allowing her short mandibles to flare out a tiny bit. "I never left." Her hand swam down the brawny, taut length of his clavicle, stopping over his heart. "I've been right here the entire time."
Garrus's mandibles tightened against his face, mouth motioning while his eyes became submerged in tears. "… that's not good enough. I want you back…. I want you alive…." He couldn't hold back anymore as his mother looped her arms around him. Garrus melted in her warm embrace, allowing the tears to fall, giving in to his raw emotions.
His mother stroked the flesh covering the back of his skull, purring; her soft rumble going through Garrus, soothing him to his core. They stayed like that until the Great Spirit said otherwise.
