Tales from the Citadel

Chapter 14: Shepard versus the Delinquent

Valentine's Day was never something I celebrated in the past. It wasn't because of the blatant commercialization behind the event, even before humanity introduced it to the rest of the galaxy. No, it was because you need someone to celebrate Valentine's Day with and, for the longest time, I had no one.

Even when I finally found someone, the timing wasn't right. If Miranda and I weren't prepping for a suicide mission against the Collectors, we were dealing with mercs or husks or rogue geth. Or we were dealing with the aftermath of the Bahak system incident and the death of almost three hundred and five thousand batarians. Or we were desperately fighting for our very lives against the Reapers. Hell, the fact that we actually fell in love, went on a few 'dates' and finally screwed like bunnies was a bonafide miracle.

But things were different now. The Reaper War was over. Neither Miranda nor I had any engagements or duties. Which left me with the paralyzing realization that I had no idea what to do. How did one celebrate Valentine's Day? Did you go out? Did you stay in? Did you have to make it a formal affair? Could you go casual? What kind of gift was acceptable? What kind of gift was wholly inadequate? What kind of gift was too much?

I could've consulted the extranet—okay, I did consult the extranet. It gave me a bajillion answers, half of which contradicted the other half. My squadmates were not exactly well-versed in romance. Case in point: Garrus, the calibrating virtuoso who'd been on the outs with Tali for far too long because he opened his big mouth one too many times. The few friends I had from childhood, Basic or OCS were out of contact, thanks to the still-intermittent galactic comm network.

Luckily, I had an ace in the hole. One who had infinitely more knowledge about Valentine's Day and other aspects of a normal life than I did.

"Thanks for coming over and helping me out, Ellie," I said as I pulled the candles out of the shopping bag. "You know you didn't have to. A simple vid-call would've sufficed."

"Maybe, but I needed to get out of the condo. Staring at four walls with nothing but a vid-screen and my omni-tool for company was driving me stir-crazy."

"So you're on maternity leave, right?" I asked as I started setting up the candles on the table. "I feel like you've been pregnant for a while."

"You feel like I've been pregnant for a while? Try carrying a growing, kicking baby inside your belly for the better part of a year," Ellie retorted.

"Touché," I conceded.

"But yes, I'm officially on mat leave. I actually started a day early."

"Will wonders never cease."

"Well, I had enough sick leave. Unlike some people."

"Oh?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just work gossip."

"Which you're just dying to spill," I rolled my eyes.

Ellie bit her lip and maintained the decorum and discretion expected of a medical professional…

"One of the orthopedic surgeons—we entered med school at the same time, still can't believe she graduated given her grades—also went on mat leave early. Not by choice: her blood pressure was going through the roof so she either had to stop working or lose the baby. The only problem was she had a habit of calling in sick. Sick, my ass. Too lazy to get out of bed, especially after spending the previous night drinking and screwing the latest cute nurse. As a result, she burned through her sick time. So when she finally stopped working, she was forced to go on 'unpaid leave'—which is funny considering the bills she must've racked up with all that extranet shopping."

…for about ten seconds.

"Like I said, you're just dying to—"

"Chuck."

"Shutting up now. So… you think we've got everything covered?"

"You have a roaring fire, the lights are turned down low so as not to compete with the fire or the candles, we have a trail of rose petals leading from the door to the dinner table to the bedroom and dinner will be finished cooking by the time Miranda arrives. Yes, Chuck, I think we have everything covered."

"Thanks, Ellie," I sighed. "It's funny, this looks like something Awes—er, Devon would think of."

…

"This is what Devon would do if he wanted to treat you to a quiet romantic evening, isn't it," I stated.

"The only thing missing is the pecan pie," Ellie admitted.

"Because he knows that's your favourite. Why didn't you mention that earlier?"

"If I did, you'd be freaking out worrying about his opinion and whether he'd approve."

"Those are pretty awesome standards, Ellie, you gotta admit it."

"True, but you're missing the point: you don't need his approval. In the end, the only person whose opinion matters is Miranda. And trust me, she'll approve. Just remember: you're aces, Chuck."

"Thanks—and thanks again for all your help. Now get out of here. I'm sure you and Devon have your own plans."

Ellie just gave me a knowing smile.

"Is everything all right, Shepard?" Miranda asked. "You've barely touched your meal."

My fork moved towards the piece of steak for the third time as I glanced up at her. "I…" Once again, the sight of Miranda took my breath away and completely derailed my train of thought.

The red silk gown she wore managed to satisfy propriety while simultaneously highlighting every single one of her stunning attributes. Her dark hair was done up in some kind of sophisticated coil that, combined with the deep neckline of the gown, accentuated her long, delicate neck. The gown also left her shoulders and arms bare, setting off her smooth pale skin to perfection. She wore a necklace of delicate silver thread with a single ruby teardrop that matched her earrings.

Needless to say, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

Miranda didn't make the slightest attempt to hide her smile as she took in my admiration and awaited my response.

"Oh everything is wonderful," I reassured her. "It's just that I've developed an appetite for something other than dinner."

"Shepard," she tsked. "One is supposed to have dessert after the meal. To do otherwise is… improper."

"Inappropriate?" I suggested.

"Forbidden," she finished. Then she slowly reached out, plucked a single berry from the actual dessert and slowly ate it. Her eyes met mine the entire time.

For a moment, I considered sweeping the tabletop clear, pulling Miranda into my arms and finding out what that berry tasted like—amongst other things. Granted that would be a terrible waste of dinner and china, but it seemed a small price to pay. It was so tempting; in fact, that I was halfway out of my chair before I realized what was happening.

I lowered myself back down. Savored that wonderfully carnal fantasy. Then I took a deep breath. "You," I said, my voice deeper and rougher than I'd intended, "are a tease."

Miranda slowly ate another berry, her eyes sparkling. "Moi? Would I do such a thing?"

I stabbed at my piece of steak, missing for the fourth time, before cutting off a fresh piece. "You might," I finally replied after I swallowed, "if it suited you." My fork reached for the piece of steak again.

"Why, Shepard, would you rather tear this gown off and devour me instead? Right on this table, here and now?"

My fork slipped, sending the morsel of steak skipping off my plate, across the table like a skipping stone and onto the floor. I tried to respond, but the words died on the tip of my tongue as my face turned warm.

"What a waste," Miranda sighed. "The dinner is delicious. Perfect, even. Don't you agree?" She picked up her cutlery and ate another bite with the agonizingly slow air of sensuality she'd displayed with the berries. I forced myself to concentrate on the steak; partly to make her wait, partly because I hadn't eaten all that much.

After a minute, I looked up and caught her eye. "Not half as delicious or perfect as you."

Now it was her turn to miss with her fork, though she hid it with an elegant nod. "Naturally."

We silently agreed to stop teasing and distracting each other while we focused on our meal. After all, we'd need all the fuel we could get for the rest of the evening.

"The jewelry looks amazing on you," I said when we finally finished. "I don't think I've seen you wear it before."

"A recent purchase," Miranda admitted. "I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, I love it. In fact, I'd love to see you in nothing else."

A faint hint of colour touched her cheeks as she favoured me with a dazzling smile. "Oh, Shepard. You mean here? Now? What if the neighbours happen to see us?" She tilted her head towards the windows and the curtains that were currently drawn back.

I pulled her into my arms. "Let them watch," I whispered.

A moan escaped her lips as I left a trail of kisses down her long neck. My hands traced a line around her waist before reaching up to the clasp of her dr—

*brring, brring* *brring, brring*

That was my omni-tool's way of saying that someone was trying to reach me. Months ago, when I was stuck in rehab and bored out of my skull, I'd reset the ring tone to something reminiscent of twentieth-century telephones. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Miranda and I wordlessly agreed to ignore it.

*brring, brring* *brring, brring*

I must admit, that damn ring tone was getting hard to ignore. But we were determined to push it aside. There were other things that were—ahem—hard to ignore.

*brring, brring* *brring, brring* *brring, brring* *brring, brring*

*BEEP*

"Commander Shepard, this is Officer Johnson from C-Sec Communications. Your presence has been requested concerning an incident involving a krogan identified as Urdnot Grunt. If you do not respond, we will have to take him into custody. Please report to the lead C-Sec officer on patrol on the Silversun Strip for additional details. You can reach him at—"

Miranda and I broke off from our make-out session/tearing each other's clothes off/epic sex marathon to stare at each other in disbelief. "What the fuck?" I managed. "It's Valentine's Day, for crying out loud!"

We found the poor C-Sec officer who had the poor luck to be patrol leader that night outside a Rosenkov Materials store. "Officer," I greeted him. "I'm Commander Shepard. Someone requested my presence concerning an incident with a krogan?"

The turian nodded. "Right this way, Commander."

He led me to a noodle shop. It had a neon sign of a krogan running like a hamster on an exercise wheel. I'm sure it was meant to be whimsical. Right now, I regarded it as an omen of ill tidings.

It was hard to miss Grunt. He was surrounded by three more turian C-Sec officers. None of them seemed amused. It was a sentiment Miranda and I shared wholeheartedly. I marched up to Grunt, stopped in front of him and crossed my arms. "So… Grunt. Anything you wanna tell me about?"

Grunt rolled his eyes. "This clown wants to take me to lockup. Figured I'd give you a call, straighten this out."

One of the C-Sec officers who'd been watching Grunt coughed politely. "Commander Shepard, I apologize for interrupting your evening. This krogan insisted we contact you."

"It's okay, Officer," I said. "What has Grunt been charged with?"

"Damage of public property, vandalism of public property, vandalism of a law enforcement vehicle, grand theft of a law enforcement vehicle, dangerous operation of a law enforcement vehicle, destruction of a law enforcement vehicle, fleeing/attempting to elude a law enforcement officer."

Hoo boy.

I was suddenly reminded of how I was Grunt's krantt during his Rite of Passage. In krogan terms, he had only recently become an adult. Considering the circumstances behind his 'birth,' he was still a juvenile. Which meant… oh God.

Turning back to Grunt, I rubbed my head to ward off the headache that was already building. "What happened?" I sighed.

"I don't know," Grunt shrugged. "Drank a bit, left the hospital, broke a few windows. Maybe some other stuff."

"Why were you in the hospital?"

"Like I said, I drank a bit."

I stared a little closer. Now that I was paying attention, I could see the dull look in his eyes. The kind of haze that confirmed Grunt was drunk. Now, consider that krogan generally had a strong constitution, Grunt was genetically designed to be more than the average krogan, the fact that Grunt had already glossed over—or forgotten—one key detail and all the charges the C-Sec officer had just rattled off. In other words, if Grunt was drunk, he was really, really, really drunk.

"How did you get to the hospital?" I asked.

"Don't remember."

Again: really, really, really drunk. "Do you remember why you came to the Citadel in the first place?"

"Meeting some guys from Aralakh Company. We were gonna reminisce about all the battles we'd fought during the war. And we did."

"Over drinks?" I guessed.

"Yeah."

"So at some point, you went from drinking and reminiscing to visiting the hospital."

"Yeah. Doc said something about a good salarian finding me on the sidewalk."

I think he meant Good Samaritan, but I didn't bother correcting him. "Go on."

"Doc hooked me up to a thingy for fluids and told me to wait. Didn't feel like sticking around."

"You know, Grunt, when most people have to go to the hospital, they stick around long enough to get better," I said. "You know, to heal. That's what hospitals are for."

"Most people aren't me."

"And why is C-Sec here laying all these charges against you?"

"Guess they're precious about some broken glass."

I took a deep breath. And another.

"Before I do anything, I need to know something: everybody walked away from this in one piece, right?"

"Sure, yeah, everybody's fine. Hospital's seen better days, though."

Oh God. "Did you break any windows leaving the hospital?"

…

"Right," I sighed again. "Tell me about the windows."

"Um, okay. So it started in the hospital."

"After you came to the Citadel, met your Aralakh Company buddies, drank so much that a random stranger found you on the sidewalk and called an ambulance, went to the hospital, and saw a doctor who hooked you up on IV fluids?"

He paused while he slowly processed my summary of events. "Yeah. That."

"What happened next?"

"The guys followed me to the hospital and broke me out for my birthday. Tried lowering me down the side of the building on a rope. It… didn't hold."

I had the sudden mental image of some doctors, nurses, techs or lab assistants—hell, even some housekeeping staff—going about their shift. Maybe they took a few seconds to look out the window… only to see some krogan doofus fall down to the ground below.

"It's your birthday?" I asked, sticking to the only part of the story that remotely made sense.

"No," Grunt snorted. "I'm tank-bred, remember? Anyway, we climbed up on the krogan statue."

"The krogan—" I trailed off and sighed. Again. "You mean the Krogan Monument? The one honouring your people for fighting in the Rachni Wars? The one in the Presidium?"

"Yeah, that one."

Now I was imagining Grunt and a bunch of drunken krogan yahoos stumbling up to the Krogan Monument and clambering all over the damn thing rather than admiring it from a distance or taking pictures. I was starting to curse my vivid imagination. "So you got drunk, went to the hospital, left the hospital against medical advice, went to the Krogan Monument and climbed all over it. Then what?"

"When C-Sec got there," Grunt continued, "they were mad. "Or maybe they were mad about their car being on fire. Can't remember."

Aw, crap. "Why was it on fire?" I asked slowly.

"I threw my bottle of ryncol at it. Pretty strong stuff—went up like a bonfire."

Ryncol. Yeah, that would do it. And that would explain why Grunt had to go to the hospital. Drink enough of that stuff, even a krogan would get dizzy. And it didn't take much to imagine Grunt lighting a spare bottle of ryncol on fire and chucking it at a C-Sec vehicle.

"The C-Sec guys jumped out. Then we figured they didn't want it, so we took it. Didn't get very far before they shut us down."

Grunt nodded to the side. I followed his gaze… to a C-Sec shuttle. The one engulfed in flames.

"Sprayed us down with riot foam," Grunt chuckled. "Didn't work so well on me."

"And why's that?" I sighed for the… fourth time?

"'Cuz I was on fire. You know, from the car? Come on, Shepard, keep up."

That didn't make sense, but I was kinda beyond caring at this point. "Right, sorry. So how did they catch you?"

"They chased me for a while. Then I got hungry. Stopped for noodles."

After everything Grunt did, he stopped for… oh God. I did not get paid enough to deal with this. I really didn't.

"Grunt," I said through gritted teeth, "you apologize to the nice man for setting his car on fire." I gestured to one of the C-Sec officers, picking him more or less at random.

His lip curled. He glared at me. I just glared back.

Then his eyes drifted to my left. If he was looking for a reprieve, I knew he wouldn't get one.

Miranda was standing there. She'd been there this whole time. Not saying a single word. She didn't have to. See, before we left to find the C-Sec officer, she'd changed. So had I. But while I had changed into military fatigues, Miranda had dressed to make a statement. She'd picked a blouse, black as a crow's feathers, paired with a pantsuit that was as black as the void. Picture that, with her pale, almost cold, white skin. Add her eyes, piercing bolts of blue light. And her hair, dark as ebony. Put it all together, and you got more than a mere woman. More than a so-called 'ice bitch'. You got a living, breathing avatar that said you were in Trouble and there would be Judgement.

Compared to that, giving in to my requests didn't seem so bad.

"Fine," Grunt relented. "I'm sorry for setting your car on fire."

"Now, apologize to this nice man for taking his car without asking him for permission." I gestured to another C-Sec officer.

"I'm sorry for taking your car without permission," he recited dutifully

"Now, apologize to this nice man for climbing all over the Krogan Monument."

"I'm sorry for climbing the monument."

"Now, apologize to this nice man for breaking the window when you left the hospital."

"I'm sorry for breaking the hospital window."

"And?" I made a motioning gesture with my hand.

Grunt let out a breath. "…and I won't do it again."

"Good," I approved. "Now, Officer, is there something I can sign to pay for any damages that may have occurred and to release him into my custody?"

The lead officer handed over a datapad. I looked it over. The language was a bit formulaic, but it basically summarized all the shenanigans Grunt had confessed to this evening. You don't want to know how much it all cost. Shaking my head, I signed it and handed it back to the officer.

"Thank you, Commander." The C-Sec officer glared at Grunt. "You're lucky, krogan. Not everyone would have done what the commander here just did. Don't let me catch you up here again."

"You won't," I promised. "Thank you, Officer."

"You're welcome, Commander. Have a nice evening."

A nice evening. Right. Pretty sure that ship had sailed.

Miranda, Grunt and I watched as the C-Sec officers left. In the distance, a crew had arrived to put out the burning C-Sec shuttle and clean up the wreckage. "Okay, Grunt," I said. "I bailed you out. Tonight. Tomorrow, though, we're gonna have a long, long talk about this. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Glad to hear it. Now, then. I think you need to sober up some more. How are those noodles?"

"Not bad," he shrugged. "A little spicy."

"Good enough," I sighed for the umpteenth time and began walking towards the noodle shop. Miranda silently joined me. The third member of our party needed a moment before realizing he should follow.

"Grunt?" I said when he caught up.

"Shepard?"

"I do love you, you big doofus."

"Heh, heh, heh."

"But we're still gonna talk about this."

"Yes, Shepard."