Chapter 52: We're Not Broken Just Bent
The bleep and hiss of machines are the first sounds I know are real. My head turns side to side on a stiff neck. Trapped air puffs from the pillow that cushions my upper half. On the left, towers of med-tech monitor and stabilize my health. Screen interfaces chart my vitals and track my meds, minerals, and fluids. Jargon displayed on the interface readouts may as well be mandarin for all I understand of it. To the right, on a leather cushioned window seat framed by an acid-color splashed skyway, a human sits. I squint, thinking I recognize him. My recollection's muzzy with what I intuit is a prolonged period of unconsciousness. The man's long and gangly. C-Sec casual blues hang off his spare frame. An almost beard prickles his cheeks and chin. A muss of hair falls over anxious eyes.
"Do I…" My voice sounds like two pages of sandpaper rubbing together. My throat feels like those same two pages.
The man leans forward and scrubs his hair back from his forehead. "Sam." He touches his chest. "Sam Caruso."
I do know him. Memories cascade through my mind until I place his image. Chellik had him working his terminal while I was cuffed to a chair in an interrogation room.
"You were with Ch…" My voice dies.
"Chellik? I was, yeah." Sam rubs the back of his neck and stares at his shoes. "And I've been meaning to…meaning to…"
I raise my brows at him.
A forced, goofy grin stretches his cheeks. "I've been meaning to go get Dakan." Sam slides off the bench. "I'll be right back."
I track his path out of the room. When he passes in front of my bed and I finally notice my suspended leg, I croak. That's as close as I can get to a scream. As the automatic doors snick shut behind Sam, tears tickle the rims of my eyelids.
Straps connected to a metal canopy above my bed hold my leg aloft. Thousands of fine needles poke from pink, swollen, and stitched flesh that stretches from the bottom of my thigh to my ankle. Blue and red and purple lights tip the ends of the needles. Wires of the same color trail from the lights. They connect to a complex pumping system positioned on top of the canopy overhead. The frankenleg attached to my hip can't be mine. I'm a dancer. This leg doesn't look walk capable let alone plie capable. Pitiful creaking comes from my mouth.
The automatic doors open. I swipe the moisture from my cheeks and force my own big goofy grin.
"I don't care who brought her where." Allegra's throaty voice trumpets over whoever else talks. "You've known her for a month. I've been one of her best friends for years. Out of my way, chicken lizard." Allegra hip checks Dakan and bursts into the room. The detective and Sam follow her. At the sight of my leg, her hands go to her mouth. "Oh, Neve." She comes to my bedside, careful not to jostle me or my leg. "I've been so worried about you. I saw you arrested and then everything on the feeds about you and Udina. Then the geth."
I grasp her arm, swallow a sore swallow. "Little Roger. Big Roger."
"They're fine." Allegra's warm smile and the way she pets my arm puts me at ease. I slouch into my pillow as she relates everything that happened to her in my absence.
No matter who she pestered at C-Sec, no one would give her information on me.
"And I couldn't track that one down." Her thumb juts in Dakan's direction. Dakan, who's seated next to Sam on the window seat, crosses his leg over his knee, folds his arms, and rolls his eyes. The turian's foot dances in agitation.
"Once the geth ship came through the relay and Roger reported to the Overtaker for combat duty, me and Little Roger went to one of the shelters for Alliance families. The Overtaker's fine. Damaged, but otherwise fine. Minimal casualties. My husband, thank God, wasn't one of them." Allegra blows a kiss to the heavens. "Roger's still on the Overtaker logging all the repairs and prepping for maintenance work."
"Where Little Roger now?" I croak.
"At the shelter with one of the caretakers."
I swallow again, ramping up for the next question. "Where we now?"
Dakan butts in. "CresCare on Kithoi Ward. There's catastrophic damage on Zakera Ward and on the Presidium or we'd be at Huerta Memorial. From what I understand, your leg reconstruction is progressing well."
I stare at my leg and proceed to gnaw off my lip.
"Am I interrupting?" The raspy question sends devilish chills up my spine. Muscles clench low in my belly. Vlair stands in the entrance to my hospital room. He carries a potted plant.
Dakan says "yes" at the same time that Allegra says "no." Allegra's happily married, but she doesn't hesitate to take her eyeful of Vlair. The drell winks at her. My friend sniffs and turns her nose to the air.
Dakan rises as Vlair crosses in front of my bed and gives my leg a pitying look.
"Upshad, you can get out or I can take you out." Dakan says it quietly and simply without bluster. This is a fact not a threat.
The potted plant goes on the small table to the right of my bed. A tall, twisty stemmed flower grows from a terra cotta vase looped with a rich purple bow. The flower reminds me of an orchid with spiky instead of rounded petals. The bloom gives off a subtle creamy sweetness.
When Dakan makes to remove Vlair, the drell says, "Officer Sirrus is aware of my presence."
"And he let you pass?" Dakan's mandibles fully extend. His shoulders hunch.
"It was one of my conditions."
"Conditions for what?"
"I'm here to remand myself to your custody, detective."
Silence follows the drell's statement. I gape at him, mouth open and brows lifted. Dakan glowers, hands fisted on his narrow hips. The detective slings a pair of kinetic cuffs off his utility belt and takes the wrist of the arm the drell raises.
"Before that," Vlair says, yanking his hand away. "I'm here to speak with Neve."
Amber eyes move to me, to Vlair, to me again, then Dakan grants Vlair and I no more than a foot of space so the drell may fulfill his condition. Since Allegra occupies the sole free standing chair, Vlair squats at my bedside. Green fingers fold at the edge of the mattress. The drell lays his face on his hands.
"You could have avoided this," he nods at my leg, "had you come with me."
Closing my eyes and bracing for the pain of speech, I say, "Price too high."
"Perhaps I could have been more generous. That's why I'm turning myself in."
Yeah, right, the look I give him says.
"One of the reasons, anyway," the drell adds and smiles. "I think in the next weeks you'll come to appreciate me more than I've given you reason to in the past."
Yeah, right, my look says again.
Vlair stands. His hand moves towards my face then draws back and caresses the strange flower instead. A bright kinetic band slaps around the drell's wrist.
"Remember me when you're on your feet again. Remember Band Cluster Agencies."
Dakan secures Vlair's hands behind his back. They march towards the exit. The drell's request circles my thoughts.
Remember Band Cluster Agencies.
Why would I? Why would I ever place myself in Dalessia Kella's power once more? Allegra bends over me, plants a kiss on my cheek.
"I've got to get back to the shelter. I'll be back tomorrow, OK?"
"I'd like that."
I would. The last time I got squirreled away in Huerta Memorial no one came for friendly visits and I climbed the walls. Dakan hesitates at the door when he sees Allegra leaving.
"I don't want to leave you on your own while Sirrus takes him," the turian says to me, jerking his head at Vlair.
Sam interjects. "I'll be here until you get back."
Satisfied, Dakan allows Allegra to pass before him then he goads Vlair out the door. Sam and I are on our own. The man chews his nails and the sides of his fingers. Unspoken words weight the air, but he doesn't speak, so I settle into my pillow and close my eyes.
"Neve?" Sam asks after a minute.
I open my eyes. On the edge of the window seat, Sam twists his arms and legs like cinnamon sticks. He presses and rubs his lips together, opens them with a loud smack.
"NeveI'vebeenmeaningtosayI'msorry." After he launches the vomitous string of consonants and syllables, his lips snap shut again. I grasp that he's apologizing. I don't know what for.
"Sorry?" My voice cracks and goes out on the end of the word.
"Yeah." Sam slouches against the window, legs spread and arms open and slack at his sides. "I'm a big reason why Chellik found that…recording of you and Dakan."
My eyes widen at this and Sam springs back to the edge of the bench, waving his hands.
"I didn't hand it over to him or anything. It was an accident. I knew Dakan had you under surveillance and I snooped in his files at the wrong moment. I was checking up on Dakan because I didn't trust you. I thought you were using him."
I want to say, obviously it was the other way around, jackass, but all I can do is roll my eyes.
"Chellik caught me poking around and I inadvertently fucked you both over."
I nod my head so hard at that I disturb my poor pin-cushion leg.
So, what the fuck? My wide eyes ask.
"I was wrong about you. I talked to Dakan about it and he said I should talk to you too. So, I am. 'Sorry' doesn't change anything, but I can't make anything up to you or Dakan unless you accept my apology." The fingers he picks at are his focus. He glances up at me. "Will you?"
A complex snarl of emotion grips me. I'm pissed first and foremost. Embarrassed that Sam spied on me. Shocked that he admitted it and apologized. Grateful for the show of submission. Smug that I have a significant degree of power over his future relationship with Dakan which he must value a great deal. Empathy because I understand he acted out of loyalty to his friend. Sorting all that and being ok with the man sitting across from me will take a while. Deep down I sense his sincerity. After a lot of time passes I will come to terms with him.
I nod my acceptance.
Sam blows out the breath he holds. "Whew. I've been holding that in like an incredible fart on a first date."
My snicker is the erup of a bullfrog.
"What's funny?" Dakan asks as he enters. Shrugging, I shake my head. Some silent communication passes from turian to human and Sam vacates his seat.
"Bye, Neve. Thanks," he says and gives Dakan and I some privacy. The turian sits himself in Allegra's old seat. A hard, clawed hand covers mine.
"Are you in pain?"
When I start answering, Dakan says, "Just nod your head. I'll try to keep things 'yes' and 'no.'"
Half my mouth curves up in a smile and I shake my head.
"Good. I know it may not look like it, but your reconstruction is ahead of schedule. You'll be out of here in a week barring complications."
There's no way around a vocalized question. "After that?" I point to my leg.
"Lots of rest and regular physical therapy. Then any cosmetic touch ups you'll want considering your career."
Rubbing my fingers together, I gesture the word expensive.
"Don't worry about it, Neve." Dakan's mandibles hug his jaws. "There's something else."
I give him my attention, indicating I'm ready for whatever news he has.
"I've been by your resplex."
I shut my eyes because I know what's coming.
"There's not even a building there anymore," Dakan says.
The soft thudding is my head conking against the head board. When I'm discharged I have no where to go. Allegra has the Alliance shelter for as long as she needs it because she's with Roger. If she had her own place I could crash with her in exchange for cleaning and babysitting services. The shelter won't take BFFs of Alliance officers and personnel. And how can I score an apartment when I can't walk, can't work, and can't pay off a fraction of these medical bills?
Oh, wait, I think. I shouldn't stress. There's a holding cell with my name on it.
Dakan reads my mind or my expression. "You are still wanted by C-Sec."
I don't hold the tears back. The blunt side of a talon wipes them away.
"I've set up a potential deal with Chellik. Listen to me all the way through before you nod or shake, OK?"
I nod to that. Dakan takes a breath and continues.
"Instead of a cell, Chellik is willing to hold you under house arrest. Twenty-four-hour surveillance. No coming or going without escort."
Except I have no home.
"That's a problem with you not having housing anymore."
Huh-duh.
"Unless you stay with me."
My brows climb to my hairline.
"Unconventional, I realize, but I think we could make it work. You wouldn't be in a cell, but you'd still be under C-Sec surveillance while you recover."
I pinch my lower lip. "Owe you," I say and shake my head. Dakan mirrors my head movement.
"You won't owe me a thing. This is my job." His mandibles flick. "And I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I am trying to win you back, after all. But even if I can't, I wouldn't expect any…recompense."
I study the hand covering mine, at the grooved talons and gnarled, metal plated fingers. The hand clenches my hand.
"Or we can place you with another officer. A human female if that will make you more comfortable."
I shake my head.
"No?" Dakan asks.
I shake my head a second time. "You," I say and Dakan's mandibles wing in and out questioningly. I expand on my answer. "I stay with you."
Dakan lowers his head, squeezes my hand. "I'm pleased beyond expression."
"Alone, please," I say and Dakan interprets me correctly.
"Yes, I see you're tired. I'll be outside or Sirrus will. If you need us, call. Sirrus can get in touch with me no matter where I am."
The turian leaves my side, leaves the room. I gaze at the ceiling a long while, then out the window, count the passing skycars, then to my direct right at the flower Vlair left. Despite its coming from someone I don't find palatable, the blossom's beauty and fragrance makes me smile. As I contemplate its strangeness and interesting shape, my sightline lowers down its twisted stalk and catches on a small envelope I failed to notice before. A card secured by a three pronged, plastic pitchfork, sticks out of the plant's soil. Reaching over, I slip the sealed note form the mini trident. Slanted, elegant script scrolls along the thick bit of stock inside. It reads:
I will always honor your contract. The two of us are a perfect fit. ;)
I snort. Vlair's arrogance knows no bounds. He fits no where in my life. But I don't crumple the card in my fist. I don't toss the note in the trash. I tuck the card back into its envelope, slide open the top drawer of my bedside table, and place it inside.
"Have you seen the feeds?" Dakan asks as he enters the apartment, arms laden with groceries. He dumps them on the counter in our kitchen and comes and takes a seat on the sofa where I recline. The turian straddles the armrest that supports my back. The other armrest props up my not-so-bum-anymore leg. The scars are fading and I regain mobility everyday. I did my first set of barre stretches this morning. Only the grande plies troubled me. I reluctantly pause the romosim in which I'm immersed.
"Guess you haven't," Dakan comments, noting the steamy scene frozen on his lap screen's display.
We've been in this apartment three weeks now. Like my resplex, Dakan's former quarters got razed in the battle of the Citadel. He lived in the C-Sec barracks until my discharge, then scouted a place to rent with the stipend he received for his round-the-clock Neve sitting. Living together has been better than I thought. This place only has one bedroom, but I snubbed the bed when we arrived anyhow. I've been living on the couch. It's more comfortable for my recuperation.
"What's going on?" The haptic screen rests on my lap. All I had access to in CresCare was public news feeds. Endless rebuilding coverage and the same battle highlights reel bore me. When I'm not catching up on my favorite romosim installments Dakan brings from the still standing Beasley's Imports, I scour the extranet for information on the geth that mainstream media won't report.
Conspiracy theories abound. Some claim the council organized the attack. Some blame the Alliance. That's the most popular theory. Rumor has it we engineered the strike to gain the political rewards we reap. Humanity did a lot of the saving during the battle, including leading the charge on Saren's warship. Data on that warship is scarce. Sites cataloguing rumors and facts about the vessel are quickly shut down. The most common name I find for it is Reaper, but most of the sites reporting that aren't particularly reputable. A few speculate that Saren's warship is actually a secret Alliance model humanity tested in our coup attempt on the council. All part of our insidious plans to dominate galactic policy and subjugate its many species. I purse my lips as Dakan uses the screen in my lap to rouse our slumbering entertainment display.
A small spy hole projector set in the wall opposite the couch strobes and a light screen colors the viewing space. Swiping the lap screen from me entirely, he pulls up a menu without closing out of my romosim and tabs through all our stored preferences. A preview of the channel's current content displays next to the highlighted feed. Dakan selects the one he wants and Dalessia Kella's angry face covers our wall.
"You have no idea what you're doing!"
A turian C-Sec officer has Dalessia's front up against the side of his skycar. He struggles to fix biotic dampeners and a pair of kinetic cuffs to her wrists. A graphic header along the bottom of the light screen says: Prominent businesswoman arrested on suspicion of conspiracy, kidnapping, the attempted murder of human ambassador Donnel Udina. Dalessia's eyes are wild. She rants at the campanion shoved in her face as clawed hands attempt to shove away the intrusive device.
"You think I'm not fighting for the greater good? Humanity is a disease and they will wipe the rest of us out if we give them the opportunity. Udina is a Cerberus—"
A blue breastplate blocks the asari from view. Incomprehensible shouts drown out the rest of her statement. Static garbles the image. The feed cuts to a shot of ambassador Udina. Whoever films the man chases him from a building to an elevator. A man off camera speaks.
"Ambassador, what's your reaction to Dalessia Kella's accusations?"
Udina's pace doesn't slow and he doesn't look at the reporter. Patches of sweat at his temples and upper lip glisten in the campanion's close-spot.
"The asari in question is obviously troubled." Udina faces the campanion head on when he enters the elevator and inputs his destination. "I hope she receives the care she needs in C-Sec's custody."
The elevator doors close while the reporter calls, "What about Neve Cezetti?"
What about Neve Cezetti indeed.
"How did this happen?" I ask.
Dakan mutes the feed, grinds his fist into his thigh. The answer fights through a clenched jaw. "Upshad."
"Vlair! Are you serious?"
"Didn't come cheap either. I wish there would have been another option."
Tension radiates off Dakan. My mind wanders to the card secreted in my new bag and of Vlair's promise that I would come to appreciate him in the coming weeks. What demands the drell made of C-Sec also snags my curiosity as does his imagined place in my future. The sharp snap of splitting plastic brings my focus back to the turian at my side. He's demolishing the lap screen's frame.
"Hey," I cry and ease the device from his constricting grasp. "I'm not done with that romosim yet." I laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. "What did the lap screen ever do to you?"
Shoehorned merriment fails to infect Dakan. He rests his chin in his hands and grinds his teeth, stares at the silent talking heads pantomiming speech on our wall. I place a hand on his thigh. The turian jolts, looks at me.
"Was the price worth it?" I ask.
Sighing, Dakan leans back against the wall and his mandibles loosen from their tight set at his jaws. "Upshad gave us Kella. He gave us a solid link between her, NOVA, and the drugs."
"What link?"
"A shipping manifest. One of her suppliers got sloppy. Vlair catalogued the damning paper trail before Dalessia deleted it. He had that and a tetrabite of data from her personal files on a drive he turned over. Upshad very well might have handed us NOVA itself wrapped in a pretty bow. All that data coupled with his testimony and yours will be enough to put Kella away for good unless she sells out the rest of her organization in a plea deal."
"My testimony?"
"Yes. There'll be a trial, of course. A very public, all star trial."
I cringe. My fingers curl in the soft fabric covering Dakan's leg. He pats my hand, then holds onto it.
"What did my trousers ever do to you?"
I smile at my lap.
Dakan touches his forehead to the top of my skull and says, "We'll make it through the trial together," then he coughs and clears his throat and pulls back. "That is, ah, well…you know what I mean."
I know what he means.
Besides his mention of a kiss on the Presidium and his concern for me at CresCare, Dakan's kept a respectful emotional distance from me since we've bunked together. Technically, he's my full time jailer, but Chellik has other officers posted at our door at all hours. Dakan still does shift work at the temporary hub, an appropriated set of suites in a business complex, on Zakera Ward until reconstruction of their home base at the Junction is complete. When he's not on shift, he carts me back and forth to and from physical therapy and runs all our errands. We're always chatting and the vibe between us is easy and natural, but Dakan's never pushed for anything more. Just like he promised. Our future is in my hands.
"I-yuh, meant to tell you," Dakan says, "that one of Vlair's many conditions for his full cooperation was that Chellik honor any deals he made with you."
I pounce on Dakan's leg. "My mom?"
The turian nods. "We're working with Earth authorities to secure her and inform her of the details."
I drop my cheek atop my hands. My mom on the Citadel. In treatment. Freedom from the constant stress of wondering whether she's dead or alive. I'm giddy until I recall this is Vlair's doing. The corners of my mouth turn down. That drell is up to something and I'm at the center of it and that's bad. Totally bad. He's too attractive for my own good. A man like him is a tragedy waiting to happen and the man sitting next to me, he's…well, he's not perfect.
Dakan used me. He betrayed my trust, invaded my privacy, and trampled my consent to advance his career. Since then, he's dedicated his entire life to regaining my confidence. Does he have it?
No.
But we're getting there.
Centering his life around me can't go on forever. He needs to know I don't expect that. I can accept all he's done as recompense for the trouble and heartache he's caused and move on without him or I can show him there's a place for a turian in my future.
Stretching up my hand, I brush the side of Dakan's face. His head slants towards me. Cupping my fingers behind his neck, under his fringe, I urge him downward. At the same time, I strain upward and plant my lips on his face plate above his mandible. He rests his hands on my shoulders. When I draw away, he nuzzles my forehead.
"Does this mean I can stop buying you romosims?" Dakan asks.
"What?" I break contact and glare at him.
Dakan gentles my forehead again, laughing. "If we're back together I don't want to buy those things anymore. Everyone at Beasley's makes fun of me."
"We're not back together."
This time, Dakan pulls back. "That wasn't a we're-back-together kiss?"
"That was a maybe-we're-back-together kiss."
"When does the 'maybe' go away?"
"When you bring me more romosims. And snacks."
Shifting from the armrest to the couch, Dakan re-positions me so I lie against his chest. He wedges a pillow between us so his hard chest plates don't dig into my back. The lap screen gets propped in front of us and Dakan re-initializes the steamy scene he paused to show me the news feed.
"This is an awfully intimate position for a maybe-back-together couple," I say and choose how the hero and heroine on the display interact.
"No," Dakan says. "This is a I-want-you-bad-but-I-won't-push-you-further-than-y ou're-ready-for position. Can't you tell?"
"Now that you mention it."
Dakan watches me play, chin resting in the crook of my neck and shoulder.
"So much was damaged, but everything's turned out rather well, hasn't it?" He asks, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"Not too shabby," I reply.
Not too shabby at all, I think and make my last selection in the romosim.
The hero and heroine kiss and the screen goes dark.
The End
