Shadepaint: a special face covering like high tech grease paint of nanites that is only removable with a special code from the wearer designed to preserve the anonymity of special agents of the Council.
There was another storm sweeping across the Citadel. The rain started falling, the gathered drops beginning to creep across the tiles of the hall, gathering the thick streams of blood, trailing them away like red ribbons streaming from a child's hand. Shepard didn't move despite the rain. Her forearms rested across the tops of her knees, her back against the cold wall, staring unseeingly at the body before her.
She'd spoken to yesterday. She'd lead the killer right to her. She should have seen it sooner. that they weren't just searching for the artifact; they were ensuring they were the only ones who find it.
Her eyes refocused on the dead assari before and she opened her omnil. Her fingers didn't shake. They were steady as she opened a data screen and searched for the assari. She'd done this too many times. The people who died were never drifters, never the elders who had lived long lives and tied off their affairs, it was always the essential links in a chain that others depended on. This wouldn't be any different.
Marao D'Thana. She had a partner. A salarian female, and three children. Marao was clearly the one who brought in the paycheck, their partner had lost a leg...on Waystar.
Bile rose in Shepard's throat, her blood suddenly singing for her to move and run, and yet her body wouldn't answer; caught between paralysis and flight. With a shaky breath she pushed herself to her feet and began to make her way across the bridge spanning one of the many parks below, not caring as the rain soaked her. Maybe the chill of the rain would seep through muscle and bone to cool the scorching iron burning its way through her gut. Just before she stepped out into the full brunt of the storm she looked back over her shoulder at Marao's body.
There was another figure crouched over it. She could make out a crown of horns silhouetted by the neon lights of the shops in the distance, shadepaint obscuring the clanmarks across the scales and plates of the face, and blue eyes blazing with ice cold rage.
"Shit." Shepard breathed and started sprinting. She zig zagged towards the edge of the bridge, ensuring each tack and shift was a different length, not letting herself fall into a pattern as bullets ricocheted off the cement around her. She reached the edge of the bridge and threw herself over the railing, cursing the mammoth size of the station, wishing she knew anything about this district. A biotic shield shimmered into life ten feet below her, and she gritted her teeth, bracing for the massive drain she would feel the minute her weight hit it, scanning the park below her. She would have a little more than a second after the impact to jump somewhere else before the shield vanished beneath her feet. It was at least another thirty feet to the paleblue grasses of the park, she could probably survive the fall but without armor the probability of breaking something badly enough to stop her from running was too high. A tree. There was a tree, with a sturdy looking branch that was maybe fifteen feet off the ground. It was just out of reach-
Her feet hit the shield and pain blazed through her head as her biotics strained to support her, she shifted her weight and with a yell, she launched herself towards the tree, hands behind her to release a shockwave and fling her forward an extra few feet. She hurtled through the air, unable to control the path or bring her arms up quickly to catch herself, and her abdomen slammed into the middle of the branch, knocking the wind from her. Her arms wrapped around the branch, clinging to it for a moment. She glanced over her shoulder.
A silver-grey crested head was staring at her, blue eyes full of fury, the barrel of therifle snapping up towards her. Shepard let herself slip from the branch, catching herself painfully to hang from it for a heart beat: nails digging into bark, and the skin on her fingertips tearing as three bullets slammed into the branch where most of her body had just been, sending splinters flying. A half-crazed cackle escaped her lips as she released her grip on the branch, hit the ground and dove into a roll before launching to her feet again and began to zigzag across the lawn towards the nearest street on this level and the shelter of buildings. She cast a glance over her shoulder in time to see the seven foot turain dangling from the underside of the bridge, and then drop and land with ominous grace, his powerful digitigrade physiology absorbing the impact of a twenty foot drop with ease.
"Fucking turians." Shepard panted as she sped up. She needed small spaces. Now. There was a lot of bullshit involving the number of turians, salarians, and asari in the ranks of the Spectre and C-SEC, but there was no denying that a huge advantage they posed over the other races was speed. Long term - humans, salarian, hell even krogan just could not outrun a turian or salarian; assari weren't the fastest on the ground, but once airborne, they would outstrip all others. If you ran from a salarian, you wanted to get somewhere that made its height an issue, and if you were running from a turain… well the Alliance's official stance was do not get yourself into a situation where you are running from a turain: either don't piss it off or shoot it.
But her and the Bluejays personal relations were not going to improve anytime soon and she didn't have a goddamn gun. She made it to the potential cover of the street and began winding her way in and out of the small booths and stalls that filled the center of this pedestrian thoroughfare. Cries of outrage followed as she interrupted the leisurely strolls of various Citadel citizens, their rainshield drones hovering overhead. Shepard collided with and bushed past a few who were distracted and stepped into her path, and their indignant fuming at being jostled or shoved out from the shelter of the drones and soaked with rain, followed her up the street. There wasn't much chance of the Blujay not knowing where she went, she just hoped the throngs of people might slow him enough for her to put distance between them and that some opportunity to loose him might present itself.
Rain brought advantages and disadvantages to fleeing from a large predator. Her scent would be a little harder to follow (because, again fucking turains and their heightened olfactory senses) but she could also also feel that she was working extra hard to not lose her footing on the slick concrete of the street and that the precipitation was costing her precious, life saving speed. At least the fucker couldn't try to snipe her in here, and most of the aliens around her were taller than a human, making it very hard to pick her off in the crowd. Her best bet would have been to grab someone's coat, or ditch her coat….another human with hair made indistinguishably dark in the rain…but he had orders to shoot to kill, and she had been making that very hard to do for weeks. There was enough innocent blood on her hands. She wasn't going to add more just because he fired when he was justifiably relieved to finally be able to do his job.
Its more than a job though. Nihlus was his friend. This is personal. Empathy was bullshit. It really sucked to be able to so clearly understand the motivations of a scaly alien that was trying to kill you for something that was not actually your fault.
Clear ringing tones suddenly seemed to echo from all around the district announcing, "CITADEL SECURITY, CLEAR THE STREETS. OFFICER IN PURSUIT OF A FUGITIVE."
Shepard swore as the people in the street before her looked up in surprise at the warning and began parting, stepping towards the sides to make way for law enforcement. Your not part of the watch and I'm not actually a fucking fugative! Shepard seethed as she kept springing forward. Blending in wasn't an option at this point. She could see clear to the end of the street now as the last pedestrians hustled into the shelter of shop awnings, their rainshields bumping into one another as they clumped together shimmering and shifting like a school of fish. Then she heard the crack of gunfire, and felt herself slip on the tiles. She felt something wiz through the air a hair's breadth from her face. That would have been a rather spectacular headshot, if she hadn't lost her footing on the slick ground, inadvertently saved her life. Stop admiring the work of the person trying to kill you!
She needed a new plan. She wasn't going to get lucky twice. Fuchsia colored caution holos caught her eye reading "Construction Zone. Do Not Enter. Danger. Hazard Zone."
That'll have to do.
She slid to a halt, pulling herself into a crouch as gunfire echoed again and another bullet whizzed by. Center mass, smart, but not smart enough, and dove for the hole in the concrete wall.
The space inside was much smaller to Shepard's intense relief. She darted across the uneven ground, her feet splashing loudly in puddles. This space was clearly open to the rain above somehow. It looked like it might be a partially collapsed access tunnel for maintenance on the huge station. She ducked under a portion of the wall that had fallen forward at an angle, delighted by every obstacle that would make it a little harder for the turain to get in here and kill her. She found a flight of stairs that spiraled down the back of this series of store fronts and darted downwards, the area becoming increasingly dark as she descended. A wave of fatigue hit her as her body settled into a rhythm on the stairs.
I could just stop. He's a good shot. Letting him shoot me would be a whole lot easier than trying to avoid his aim. It would be quick. It would be...over. She slowed for a heartbeat. It would all stop. But Nihlus had been her friend, had been...maybe more if they had time, and he was gone. Shepard remembered the erie blue that had replaced the bright gold of those eyes. The strange chords and metallic plates across the body, the brutal, inelegant way the Spectre had fought. Nihlus was gone long before his blood was on Shepard's hands, and the reason was still out there...and the Council didn't believe her.
In her mind Shepard saw Kaidan's blue eyes, saw them turning red, imagined him turning on Chakwas...saw precious sky blue eyes lost in that other erie shade, a snarl twisting Liara's face, metal plates replacing her delicate tendril crest...
Shepard began to fly down the stairs. No. I will not let that happen.
She heard a loud clang from above her and tried to move even faster without losing her footing. It was echoed by a second loud clang. The spiraling shape of the stair prevented her from seeing very far behind her, but she heard the harsh clang yet again. The pace didn't make sense at all. Was he jumping every five steps? That would be incredibly inefficient, and he was smart...it didn't fit.
Clang.
That one was a lot closer.
A biotic shield shimmered into life around her and she leaned out over the outside edge of the railing, looking up.
He was maybe four turns of the stair above her, clinging to the outside rail, dropping to the next, rifle slung across his back. Shepard whipped herself back from the edge. She didn't think he'd seen her. But he'd be on her level in a moment and there wasn't anywhere to hide. She had no idea how he was managing to move down the outside of the stair so quickly without falling-
Clang.
-but that path wasn't an option for her. He couldn't get through her shield, but he could easily wait till she was burned out, and after having to use it as a landing pad at the park it would drain too fast, he wouldn't have long to wait. And he was a sniper which meant he was a patient fucker. She backed away from the railing, trying to get as much space as she could between her and the inevitable arrival of the pursuing turain. She felt the cold and damp of the cement behind her, her back was literally against the wall.
The wall.
There was no time to scan to find out what was on the other side, if she could even reach the other side, it was the only option right now. She turned, splayed her hands against it and gritted her teeth before releasing a blast of biotic energy and a shockwave, hopeful the latter would help shield her from oncoming debris and help clear a path to escape. The stair shook with the force of the blast and the crack and rumble of destruction filled the air. Dust billowed out, but the shockwave did the job and redirected the bulk of the larger bits of the wreckage. She coughed.
Clang.
He was on the railing behind her. The rain bouncing off his scales, jacket and the rifle across his back, seeming to give him a silver aura in the fading light the station's day cycle. Water streamed across his face and the shadepaint, dripping from the small spines at the end of his chin. His three taloned toes and fingers were wrapped tightly around the rail, allowing him to perch like some great hawk, and those piercing eyes watched her with similar intensity. They flashed from her to the hole in the wall behind her, brow furrowing.
She was ready to dash through the hole in the wall when a crack echoed through the air. The unmistakable sound of metal tearing and concrete breaking. They both felt the stair shift beneath them. His eyes widened, "The hell did you-"
And they were falling.
The stair had come loose from the wall and was now plummeting down this part of the station. Shepard and the Bluejay both threw themselves towards the center to the stairs. His talons punching through the metal as the speed of their descent increased, and Shepard wrapped her arms around the central pole of the stair. Their eyes met for a heart beat...and Shepard threw a shield around them both moments before the stair slammed into the ground below.
/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /
Garrus looked up from the assari's corpse to the human figure standing at the edge of the bridge. The rain was streaming down her face and clearly had been for sometime. She was completely soaked, the hair that was usually bright as flame now the color of dried blood among her species. Fitting. Her scent was all over the body. She'd been with the asari before. There were fading traces of her scent among the others on the body, apart from the heavy lilac and sharp citrus that he had come to associate with her. Her scent had changed in the weeks since she'd been stripped of rank: lost the metallic bite of discharged weapons and adrenaline soaked sweat. He found it..strange. It doesn't suit her. It didn't fit the lethal killer that he knew her to be.
He knew she'd spotted him by the sudden stillness that swept over her, and he could see dread fill those unforgettable green eyes. And she was running. Not this time. Garrus surged to his feet and began dashing after her, pulling his sniper rifle from his back and tucking it into the crook of his shoulder. She was several meters out on the bridge and he could see that the terrain ahead was deserted save from her. A snarl of satisfaction escaped him and he came to a halt, talons scraping on concrete to kill his forward momentum, and he opened fire. But she started weaving just before he pulled the trigger. He squinted slightly and his visor began tracking her movement, a red 'x' moving just in front of her, calculating her path. He centered his crosshairs with its guidance, saw her near the space that her next stride should carry her to, and fired...only to grit his teeth in frustration as she's reversed direction and cut back sooner than the program's prediction.
He was going to have to do this the messy way. He began firing quickly, trying to anticipate where she would be and a few times simply firing wildly, frustration mounting as his shots continued to fail to find their mark. Her next tack took her towards the railing, her pace not breaking, but there was nearly a ten metre drop to the park below in this district, surely she wouldn't-
He started racing after her, his bounding strides devouring the distance between them, still trying to fire between steps. He was maybe four meters from her when she threw herself over the railing and he felt his chest tighten in panic in spite of himself. He wanted her dead, she deserved to be- but shooting her as she fled, or taking her out with a headshot as she entered a bar was one thing. Shooting her if she was on the ground before him…legs doubtless shattered from the fall, green eyes full of rage and pain before… His jaw tightened as he looked over the edge. And then promptly dropped.
She was on a biotic shield of her own creation, suspended in the air below him for a moment, then hurled herself towards a tree that was clearly out of reach, shooting through the air as she released a shockwave before slamming into the branch.
Garrus blinked. He'd never seen anything like it. He'd heard of turain biotics using shields in an emergency to assist with mobility, but it was always the shield of another. To generate your own and stand on it… He shook himself with a snarl. It didn't matter that she was good, fascinatingly good, her abilities were a liability to the safety of others. He took aim and began to pull the trigger.
But it was like she could feel each time his finger began to pull back that sickle of warm metal. Her head turned, their eyes met again, and she was dropping away from his bullet's path once more, and dashing across the bluegrass.
He felt heat and fury sweep through his blood and he slipped over the edge of the bridge and dropped to the ground, sending an emergency support request from his omniblade as he did. She was heading for the street and he raced after her. The lilac and citrus scent of her was muted by the rain, but still undeniably there. He growled under his breath straining to close the distance between them before it was too late.
If she reached the crowded streets she'd be much harder to track, bumping into someone would leave her scent on them, she was tall for a human but would only come to the shoulder or chin on most of the citizens who lived in this district. He reached the street, and in a blink lost her, his attention focusing on the progression of startled and pissed looking pedestrians, ears locking on the exclamations of outrage in the distance.
He wove in and out of people, shoving some aside, not bothering with an apology. The irritated calls were happening further and further in the distance. He was going to lose her. Nihlus was going to go unavenged another day, Garrus failing his friend, his people once again.
His omnitool beeped and a short blair of a siren sounded in the street until the announcement he had requested rang out through the air. The sea of moving figures before him began to part. He caught a glimpse of the burgundy of her jacket between two elegantly dressed assari who were drifting towards the edge of the walkway, and then the street between them was clear, and there was no one in the distance beyond her. Garrus lept after the human, shifting his scope to his eyes, talons digging into the concrete as he ran to stop him from slipping in the rain. Her blood-dark hair was in the center of his scope and he fired.
His sister would have said the human was "Neinthala blessed," one who death followed but never touched. His headshot soared over that red hair as Shepard suddenly slipped out of his sight, as if the turain spirit had swept the feet out from under the human to keep another deadly handmaiden in the world. Garrus growled audibly and shifted his aim as Shepard kept running. Her death didn't have to be quick. His visor fixed on her back, ever so slightly to the left of the spine where the human heart lay, where he would at least hit lung if the divine tried to intervene again. He counted, learning the rhythm and slight sway of her body as she ran and then fired...and watched in fury as she pulled herself into a crouch, the bullet flying harmlessly overhead. She threw herself out of the line of fire and he lost sight of her again.
His claws scraped against the street, his heart pounding as lilac and citrus filled his nose. He passed uncaring through caution holos and roared in frustration as he hunched and began clambering through the dilapidated tunnel throwing his rifle across his back to free his hands, vaulting over fallen bits of wall and crawling on all fours like a varren to make it though some of the smaller spaces.
He could smell where she had pushed off a wall, a few strands of red hair lingered caught in cracks and corners of pipe, and a smear of red blood had been left on the corner where the tunnel turned. Despite the heaviness of her smell in the air he could tell that he was falling further and further behind her.
He skidded to a halt at the top of a spiraling emergency access stair. The wind gusting up this backside of the station's district carried her scent to him. You owe Finala praise, his sister whispered in his mind, the huntress has blessed this wind, but the heat in his blood left no room for thanks. He could hear the timpani of her descending feet echoing up in desperate triplets and a cold smile slid across his face. In a single bound his powerful legs brought him to the stairs railing, toes curling completely around the top bar. He pivoted so that his body was hanging over the edge and let himself drop.
Her scent grew stronger as he let the station's gravity speed his hunt, then it changed. Grew sharper and almost tart. He felt his nose wrinkle on its own accord, eyes narrowing in distaste. Fear. He could smell her fear. And for some reason he didn't like it. But then he caught the sound of her rapid heart beat and shoved that unexpected reaction from his mind. She was close. A level below him. No more. He let the last railing slip from his fingers and a cacophony filled the air.
He alighted on the railing the talons of his hands around the metal bar as well as his feet, ready to spring. There was dust in the air around her. Smears of brown caught in the moisture on her skin, green eyes wide, strands of hair plastered across her face in a mix of rain and sweat. That sharp scent was there; her fear, but it was also tinged with something else almost like smoke...
Garrus suddenly became aware of the hole in the wall behind her at the same moment the crack reverberated through the stair and he felt a shudder run through the bar in his talons.
"The hell did you-" but the drop began before he could finish. In half a heart beat he was in the very temporary shelter of the stair, feeling wind beginning to whip past his scales, inches from his prey whose arms were locked around the column that ran down the center to the stairs. His eyes met those pools of green; full of panic, but clearly edged with fury, and then everything disappeared in a blaze of blue.
/./././././././././././././.
His head hurt, the air tore at his throat, and something was grunting loudly at him. Something wet hit his face and he heard a longer grunt. Garrus cracked open a dust caked eye. There was shattered concrete and broken metal all around him. He was lying on his front and could feel a mix of rain and his own blood running down his face. Something jagged had cut the tender skin between the plates of his cheeks and brow. Everything hurt.
An even louder pair of grunts sent stabs of agony through his head. His eyes focused on the source of this particular pain. Shepard was in front of him.
She was sitting in a muddy puddle, rain creeping down her face in lines of silver. Her mouth was moving as the two grunting sounds happened again. Then her mouth moved more, hooting noises joining the grunts. Had she hit her head and gone mad? That's the last thing I need... She was breathing hard, glaring at him in desperation, eyes still filled with that seemingly ever present hint of rage.
She made some kind of lilting cry. She was also sprawled on her front, weight resting on one elbow, the other arm up, hand flexed in a way that looked strained, as strained as the expression on her face. It seemed to be pointed at something above him...and blood was beginning to run from her nose.
Garrus turned his head, looking above him, working against the water that ran into his eyes, blurring his vision, the muscles beneath his carapace protesting painfully. There was a large slab of concrete above him at a severe angle. It was a miracle it hadn't fallen on him. His eyes focused as some of the water cleared. No. Not a miracle. He could see the faint blue-gold shimmer of a fading biotic shield above him. Shepard made a howling noise.
The new shock of adrenaline in his system gave him the strength to dive forward, throwing himself into the mud next to Shepard who gasped as the last of her shield vanished and the space where he had been lying only moments before was crushed beneath more rubble.
They both coughed as the dust began to settle. Garrus turned to her. "Why..." he croaked, "why did you shield me?" Her eyes flicked between his and then narrowed in confusion. "Why the fuck did you shield me?" Garrus spat in frustration.
Her head tilted a little, she tapped a finger to her ear, and then then shook her head.
I can't understand you.
Her lips moved again and soft grunts and hoots came out. He ran a hand along the edge of the spines that guarded his ear canal where the receivers for his translator were embedded. A smirk twisted the corner off those lips.
And you can't understand me either.
"You're pretty easy to read, actually," he said without knowing why. It wasn't as if she was going to know what he said. His own words would just sound like...come to think of it he had no idea what other species thought turain's sounded like. He'd never had a problem with a translator in his life, or heard of someone who had. But her eyebrows raised at his words in what seemed to be a challenge, as if she knew what he had said. Was something causing the translator's signal to fluctuate?
Garrus made his way painfully to a crouch, then stood and began inspecting whatever hellhole they had fallen into. There was nothing but broken metal, concrete and water down here. Light and rain were both filtering down from the district above. He could make out various sections or ruined stair jammed between the walls of this place, but they were so far down, or there was so much debris above distorting the light, that he couldn't see the sky or make out any sign of the other Citadel arms. They must be deep within the inner workings of the station. Maybe there was something in whatever mechanical marvels that allowed the station to function and gave birth to the storms that swept across it was also disrupting the signals between their translators?
Despite living on the Citadel for nearly a decade at this point Garrus knew nothing about how it worked, though he thought he remembered hearing that the Citadel had existed so long that even the assari had forgotten how their ancestors had once found it. The one thing he did know was that there was no way for either of them to get back up. He swore colorfully and Shepard made a snorting sound that he ignored.
They couldn't go up...but rain and could make it down, which meant someone else could as well. Without looking, Garrus's hand slid to the signal drone on his belt. He twisted it, causing the wings to extend and pressed the key in its center three times to activate the emergency assist setting and tossed it into the air. The wings hummed to life and the drone stabilized its flight before beginning to gently drift upwards.
Garrus squinted after it, trying, and failing to judge the distance it would have to travel to the inhabited levels of the ring where it could be answered. But there was little use pondering that when there was nothing he could do about it.
Tension crept into his shoulders. There was something he could do here. The familiar weight of his rifle resting across his back was gone, and a quick glance around told him it was likely buried here somewhere under a literal ton of rubble, and was not going to be found soon, if ever. But the irritation he felt at the loss of the hugely expensive and extensively customized weapon was drowned out by the knot of dread building in his gut.
He closed his fist, but the blade that should have been generated by his omnitool did not appear. He flexed his hand experimentally. The skin between his plates and on the inside of his hand was unbroken. Whatever was messing with his translator must have been screwing with his omniblade function as well. Garrus's hand went to the short blade on his belt. He heard concrete scraping behind him. Slowly drawing the dagger, Garrus turned to face his target.
She was on her feet. Eyes locked on the knife, weight settled evenly. Then her eyes met his, her expression one of fatigue and exasperation. She said something in her Sol language and her eyes asked. You really want to do this?
He took a step forward, "you killed an Spectre." Her weight shifted a hair and he stepped forward again, "but more importantly you killed my friend." She shook her dripping head, and with a spark of rage Garrus lunged.
He felt her grip his wrist and before his knife could find its target low in her abdomen. She was behind him instead of infront, having blocked the blow and evaded in single smooth motion. He snapped around and stomped forward slashing at the only space where she would continue to evade, and again his knife met empty air as she stepped in close to his chest. The human landed a quick kick to a sensitive tendon on the inside of his leg, and used the resulting shift in his weight to shove him aside.
He continued to slash and stab, and she dodged and wove around him in a way that seemed impossible given how small the space they occupied was. She'd swing around his body, across his back and even managed to make him run his attacking hand into the side of the wall; nearly causing him to drop the knife. She was no match for his physical strength, but she moved like wind and water and so it never mattered.
Garrus growled as he shook out his hand, deeply thankful that he hadn't lost his grip on the knife. She was starting to breathe a little heavily now, and he could tell by her scent and the heat of her breath and hands on his hide that the glinting moisture on her skin was now mostly sweat and not rain. She grunted something at him desperately, clenching and unclenching her fists.
"Dekast," Garrus swore, using the turain curse for the honorless. This time he was ready for her to catch his knife hand as it stabbed downwards towards her collar bone. Her rough hand clamped around his wrist with surprising strength given her species, and he repressed a grin. Garrus jerked his arm inward, his free hand snatching around her throat. He felt her start to pull back to fight his pull and slip his grip, but he let his body follow her and slammed her against the wall, snarling as he pressed his face close to hers.
She made a hissing noise as she struggled to breathe, eyes somehow still defiant, a spark of something wild in them. His gut twisted. This was it. He had her. He'd be done. He'd snap her neck...yes, snap her neck rather than watch her lose consciousness and then...then do what he should have done the night he carried her out of the bar. He tightened his grip readying to twist - but she suddenly became much heavier. Garrus tensed his gut for the kick he could see coming but then lost his grip as her boots slammed into his elbow instead, the blow to the muscles there causing a spasm in his hand. And she was still moving using the power of the kick and her grip on his wrist to swing her other leg over his shoulder, a hand suddenly tugging painfully on his crest, dragging his head back.
And then the toe of a reinforced boot slammed into a bundle of nerves on the back of his spine and he was falling. She swung around as he fell, a knee and one outstretched leg pinning each of his arms to the ground, a hand still around the horn of his crest, bending it back, sending agony through his head and driving his chin up. And he felt the cool edge of his blade against his own throat.
Garrus blinked and moved nothing else. Rain dripped off the woman above him and onto his face. Her expression was one of contorted rage, her breathing still hard, the usually palel gold of the skin on her neck now bearing an angry flush. He felt the knife press into his hide and he tensed.
They looked at each other. She'd outmatched him, they both knew it.
"Kill me already," he growled. She snorted and he saw disappointment cross her face, then her gaze shifted again, somehow softening and hardening at the same time.
The knife pressed into his neck with a little more pressure. Don't move.
She released her hold on his crest and he groaned slightly in relief. Her weight did not shift at all, keeping him pinned, but she gestured between the two of them and shrugged. I can take you. He narrowed his eyes at her, lips curling back in a snarl. She touched the top of her head and then swept her hand back, sculpting the shape of a crest in the air, and then shook her head, looking pained. I couldn't take him. She tapped her head twice and then pointed at him. You know I couldn't.
And she was right. She couldn't. She was fast but nowhere as fast as Nihlus, who surpassed both of them in strength and speed...but she was the only one there...and had reeked of Nihlus's blood, had walked right past him smelling...smelling so different than she did now, lilac, citrus, gunpowder, metal, and...and Nihlus. And the turian Councilor knew; knew how dangerous this human was, this humans that had gotten in his head-
Garrus snarled. Shepard reacted in a heartbeat, knife against his throat, more weight pressing forward, a hand on his chest to keep him from bringing his sharp teeth any closer to her.
But that was what he needed. He kicked his legs up, trying to tuck his chin as the motion sent him into a roll, taking the human with him, his crest scraping painfully against the floor. She launched into her own roll as soon as she lost her hold and sprung to her feet, turning to face him knees bent, knife at the ready.
Garrus lowered his center as well and waited, but she didn't move.
"Come on" he yelled. Her eyes narrowed but she didn't move, just watched him with...with patience and pity that stung his heart like acid. "Come get me," he snarled again, swiping for her with outstretched talons that she sidestepped. "Stop running and fight me like you fought her," he sneered, "what's another dead alien to you!"
She cocked her head and then ducked a slash aimed for her neck, springing back up and shifting around him. Those maddening green eyes still locked on him.
"Why won't you fight me!" Garrus spat. "Why didn't you kill me or let me die?!" Memories of her scent in his room, on the antihistamine container lying beside his couch, on bandages around the bite in his shoulder...He took a step forward, his growl echoing in the small space. Her head tilted to meet his gaze as she neared, her breath coming a little faster as her adrenaline system told her to run, to get away from the seven foot beast of claws and teeth but she did not move.
"WHY?" Garrus roared. His gaping jaw inches from her face.
And then the Wildfire roared back.
It was a sound he'd never heard before; oddly pitched, high and low and tearing at the same time. The spines of his crest tucked instinctively, there was fury and agony in the sound and her eyes, and she beat her chest twice with a clenched hand as it echoed out of her. It was the sound after something breaks, of sundered pieces calling endlessly to one another when the world has forgotten they once were whole and ceased to care. The sound of a star falling, gravity hurling it endlessly distant from it's fellows and he understood it perfectly.
/
Relief and pain flooded through Shepard as the hunter finally moved and she let the last of her shield fall. She cringed as dust filled her lungs again. At this rate, if the turain didn't finally kill her, the damage he was making her cause to her own lungs would. She actually laughed a little at that idea. Slowly choking on fluids, above water but unable to breathe, wasn't the usual way for a N7 to go out...
The turain growled. She guessed that he felt as shitty as she did right now. Good. She thought. Stubborn idiot deserves it. His eyes met hers and he growled at her again, then his mouth moved with it, shifting the tone up and down in expressive rolls. He was trying to talk. No, he was talking, she just wasn't understanding. Shit. She tapped at her ear and shook his head. That had to be universal enough to understand right? Or would he think she couldn't hear her?
"This thing's fucked," she said, hoping her making sound in response would communicate a lack of understanding - not a lack of hearing. "I'm not understanding a word you're saying."
Although, it didn't sound like he was even making words. He seemed to make a series of growls and trills, punctuated by clicks and snarls. Like she was hearing a lion, a bird and a dolphin all arguing for her attention at once..
She watched him run a hand along a spine on the side of his head a little below the level of his eyes. So that's where your ears are... She mused. Then he made a rumbling noise that ended in a bit of a keen while giving her an imperious look.
"Not that this is all that different from your usual ability to understand me." Shepard grumbled, "you can't seem to understand 'I didn't want to kill him' even when your translator and your messaging system was working perfectly." She watched him get up, inspecting the upper reaches of the debris filled shaft they had fallen into, watched him launch the drone, and felt a sinking sensation in her stomach.
She was on her feet before he began reaching for the knife, mentally cursing the unsteady rubble that shifted as she moved. Yeah, but does surprise really matter? What are you going to do? Kill him? She eyed the knife, breathing deeply and trying to wake her biotics. Her head throbbed painfully. No. No biotics...and no more innocents.
"I strongly recommend not trying to fight me like this," she said when he turned to face her. He scowled, "I do this a lot. Human against angry alien. It's not gonna go well for you." His lip curled and frustration rushed through Shepard, "you're hunting the wrong person," she shouted, unable to help herself, "you and I want the same gods damned thing if you would just-"
And he lunged. No more innocents. Even stupid innocents. She moved and kept moving. He was good, but she was used to good. Good got others killed, good pirates had taken out members of her squad, so she had made sure that she was better. He was making her work though, which was unusual, and she almost started enjoying it. He's trying to kill you, you dumb ass, she chided herself and refocused, driving his knife hand into the wall.
He made a short squak-roar as the knuckles on his three fingers slammed painfully into the jagged cement and she felt a twinge of guilt. It was his firing hand. His dominant one; used to create those amazing modifications. But it kept hold of his knife and his eyes went livid. "We're both wasting time!" she spat, trying to drown out the part of her mind protesting at the injury of an artist. "Whatever happened to her is going to happen to others and..." her fists clenched and unclenched as she felt the creeping tendrils of panic wind through her chest, "we might be able to stop it if you would actually help instead of trying to kill me."
The turain snarled and stabbed wildly at her chest, ignoring her shouts. She caught him easily, but then felt her body snapped forward, and before she had a chance to respond she was against the wall, his hand around her neck. Instinctively she tensed her neck and shoulders to resist his hand and protect her spinal cord, risking maiming to stay alive. She would have laughed were it not for the pressure applied to her windpipe. That was impressive. The sadist in her wanted to break free and see if he made a similar move again, try to figure out if it was technique taught on the Citadel or just brilliant instinct; but she could feel pressure building in her head as her brain started to demand oxygen. She didn't have time, or air, for combat experiments today. Bummer. He leaned in towards her, breath tickling her nose as he growled. Wrong choice. She gripped his wrist and brought a foot sharply into the stretch of forearm just before his elbow; and she was free, flying over his shoulder fingers seeking the sensitive spines on his head...
He hit the ground, she felt her weight settle across him and she pressed his knife against one of the tender hide seams between columns of carapace-plate on his throat. She was breathing hard, both from the physical challenge he presented and from her body's still burning desire for oxygen. She watched his eyes narrow, loathing clear in their cold blue brilliance. The movements of his face and eyes were surprisingly expressive, despite the flat black expanse of the shadepaint that covered any colony markings and other distinctive facial coloration. It was fine. She didn't need to know who he was. She'd chosen not to open his Citadel profile the night she gave him the antihistamine, and saved his ungrateful hide. With the dead assari...it was better for him if she was in the dark, though she wondered how anyone could miss those crystalline eyes.
He growled something at her but didn't resist how she had him pinned. Ah, learning are we? She gestured between the two of them and shrugged, not bothering to speak at this point as he clearly wasn't understanding anything. I can take you. Her jaw clenched and she tried desperately not to think about the pair of golden eyes neither of them would ever see again, and tried to depict a crest sprouting from her head, feeling like an idiot as she wiggled her fingers. But I couldn't take him. She tapped her head and pointed to him. And you know it.
Something seemed to give in those pools of ice blue, and the turain looked hopelessly lost for a moment. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost, she could feel that her neck was going to be bruised for at least a week. Then anger began to creep back into those eyes and he snarled something at her. I can't understand that you stupid oversized -
She felt his muscles shift and she doubled the pressure pinning him to the ground, only to have him roll backwards (extremely painful with turain physiology) throwing her off. She tightened her core, allowing her to roll and then snap to her feet. He was upright as well, snarling and slashing wildly at her again and again.
It was...wrong. It wasn't him. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to focus on the sound he was making while still staying out of reach of those wicked claws. His snarl was edged with a howling screech that tore at something deep in her heart, so she stopped moving. He stepped in close to her, teeth bared, deep growl rumbling out of him and echoing in the small space. She felt a thrill of primal fear race up her spine but held her ground, staring those blue eyes down, chin lifted, throat exposed in defiant vulnerability as she met his gaze. The plates and hide across his nose beneath the shadepaint contorted and then he threw his mouth wide, letting loose a roar that shook her very bones.
And before she knew she had opened her mouth, she was roaring back. A scream of range and agony and defiance; defiance of his attempt to kill her, defiance of the death wish clear in his eyes, defiance of the millennia of instinct saying that he should hunt and and she should run...defiance of the universe that seemed to demand blood on her hands and emptiness in her heart.
The sound died as suddenly as it had come, her throat aching in its wake, her breathing ragged once again. His eyes were wide, his crest tucked tight to his skull, his weight back, thought his feet had not actually given ground. His breath was quick too, and she felt it ticking her lips. They were so close that she could smell him; pine and rain, like the mountains after a storm. She could hear the gentle scrape as his crest relaxed and flared slightly, the sharp angle of his pupils softening as they dilated.
And the space between then was gone.
And then his lips were on hers.
And she was kissing him back.
Her hands spasmed for a moment and then began sliding across the slick material of his jacket, slowing, seeking as they met the cool and warm give and take of hide and plate along his neck. Strong hands were at her waist pulling her closer, and she felt her arms answer, the two of them lifting till her feet left the ground. A hand accidentally slid beneath her shirt and she felt surprising warmth against her back.
A sudden soft growl vibrated against her lips and chest and she felt her breath catch. Her hand pressed more of his jacket aside hungry for the feeling of the plates across his shoulders and back. He was warm, incredibly warm in the chill of the rain trickling down to them. Her leg hooked around one of his, all of her body seeking more of that heat, and a hand caught the other, lifting it and hooking it across the spines of his hip so that the other could follow. Her muscles tensed so that she was pressed tighter to him.
Then his lips left hers for a moment and their eyes met, understanding lost and found somehow in the same instance. And then talons were tearing through his clothes, her jacket slid from her fingers, dropped to the floor, and thoughts and words were abandoned with their clothes.
He was crouching, lowering her to the accidental shield of fabric between their bodies and the rough ground, but she pushed him to the side and rolled on top of him. He stared up as he had before. She shifted her hips back, he gasped, she quieted him with her lips, and then there was nothing separating them; not blade, nor space, or species.
They were moving like they had before; she met his every thrust, following them with her own strong shifts, fingers twined in his crest and gripping his arm to bring her closer to him. An arm wrapped around her back, pressing her to him and then they were both rolling. He carried her with him as he found his feet and then her back was against the wall, the soft hide of his hands at waist and thigh. The cool plate of his forehead pressed against her own burning temple as he obliterated the last possibility of distance between them, His hips shifted again and again and again, seeming to reach deeper each time. His nose was beside her ear and her lips and teeth found the crook of his neck. She fought the urge to bite through his hide a second time as she felt his breath on her neck, like a feather dancing across her skin. Then she lost the battle and bit down to keep from crying out in ecstasy as he pressed deeper still, muffling his own roar of relief as he buried his face in her hair.
/
The rain was still falling above, but softly now. There was silence between the drips of water echoing in the shaft. Long enough silences to hear the even sleeping breaths. Muted, watery sunlight cast a soft glow on the wet cement and bare skin and carapace.
She didn't remember them moving to the ground again. But she was there now, curled on top of his partially shredded jacket her head resting on -
She felt him freeze a fraction of a second after she tensed, clearly having woken up and had the same realisation regarding their shocking proximity. Shepard took a breath through her nose to steady her rapidly pounding heart and the rush of embarrassment and shock that had flooded her. She pushed herself up from where her head had lain on his chest, tucked in into the crook of his arm. She felt his fingers slide from where they had been wrapped in her hair as she turned her back towards him: dangerous move with anything that had claws and teeth like he did. But based on the tension in his body and the dead silence behind her, Shepard has a sneaking suspicion that at the moment, killing her was a low priority. In fact...if she was in his shoes...no he didn't even have shoes left on...yeah she'd wish she was dead. Grateful that he couldn't see her face and the hot flush that was sweeping across it for some gods damned reason, she located her shirt, and underwear, and pulled them on (after he began to get up himself and they were no longer pinned to the ground). Out of the corner of her eye she saw him pull on his pants, which seemed to magically stretch over the long spurs at the end of his feet and top of his hips, and then run his hands over his crest, his face actually unreadable for the first time since she had known him. She snorted with laughter, clearly it was a universal instinct: hide the genitalia and ponder the unfathomable stupidity of one's actions.
He looked up at her snort, frown just visible through his still present shadepaint, making his face the only part of him she hadn't seen at this point. The wariness in his eyes deepened as he touched his throat and then pointed to her with a questioning look. Shepard put a fist on her hip and raised an incredulous brow. Are you really asking if I'm hurt after you tried to choke me?
His eyes widened in embarrassment and he ran a hand over his crest again. Then straightened, shook his head earnestly and touched his throat and made what Shepard could only describe as a….well, it sounded stupid, but a soft roar? He tapped his throat twice and then pointed to her, then made a pained expression.
Shepard gave him a long look and then said, her voice rough and grating, "yeah. It hurts. My vocal chords aren't exactly made to do that." His crest flared in alarm and he shifted back and forth on his feet.
She cocked her head at him. Are you sorry?
He shrugged, maybe, and then looked away.
Shepard was spared having to figure out how to possibly process a remorseful turain when a scraping sound above made them both spring away from the open space at the bottom of the shaft to the potential shelter of the walls, Shepard desperately hoping that the precariously balanced shards of metal and concrete were not about to come tumbling down upon them as some kind of karma and reckoning for the stupid thing she had just allowed to happen. Then they both heard a screeching call echoing down the shaft. Their eyes met. Turain.
Garrus stepped away from the wall, staring up into the space above them and answered in his own screeching cry. More lilting turain calls came from above, Garrus trilled a last response and then began digging through their strewn clothes, pulling his partially shredded jacket and boots on hurriedly.
Shepard remained against the wall carefully watching his body language. Was this the point where one of his buddies came to finish off what he didn't have the stomach to do? How many turain agents had been given contracts to kill her? Was he the only one, or was she about to have two carapaced dumbasses to deal with? She clenched and unclenched her hands experimentally and breathed a sigh of relief at blue biotics that danced across them. The light was weak and watery, she didn't have much yet, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing,
She looked up to find him watching her. Those blue eyes flicking from her fading biotics to her face, his expression wary once again. The turain above yelled something down and the end of a knotted cable dropped into view. But he was still staring at her. Rescue-turian shouted again and Shepard would bet a shit load of credits if was asking the same question, but more emphatically.
Her hunter still didn't answer, his eyes fixed on Shepard. His weight shifted restlessly again and he raised his forearm, seeming to sniff it, and then growled, sending a quick glance her way before running his hand over his crest for what was beginning to feel like the thousandth time.
And suddenly Shepard saw the problem.
She glanced around, spotting the long discarded knife and crossed to it, careful of her bare feet on the sharp rubble. She picked up the blade and began approaching him. The male saw the knife and took two quick steps back, a barely audible growl directed Shepard's way. She stopped, held up her hands, and then, moving carefully so he could see, dragged the blade across her palm, leaving a shallow cut that quickly began spilling blood. He looked totally shocked and his puzzlement seemed to only deepen as she came closer to him. She reached for him with her left hand, pausing for a moment as he flinched back from her, and then began dragging her hand across his bare chest. Next she reached up and ran her hand along one side of his face and over his lips, and understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes.
She rolled her eyes. Oh, good, caught on, have you?
She flipped the knife in the air, catching it easily by the blade stained with her own blood and offered it to him.
His eyes flashed from the blade, to her, and then he took it gently, tucking it into his belt, and unbuckling the sheath for some reason. He held it for a moment and Shepard watched in puzzlement as he scratched at the sheath with a tallon, then tossed it to her. She caught it, froning at him and he nodded at it. She looked down to see four English letters scratched awkwardly into the side of the sheath.
E V E N
He made a low rumbling noise that was not a growl and started making his way towards the cable. He stopped about two third of the way there and stooped, picking up his shirt and considering it for a moment then screeched something at the turian above and came back towards Shepard. He stood in front of her for a moment and then slowly reached for her left arm. She watched him carefully but didn't move as he gently took her left hand, examining the shallow gash, and then tore a few strips from the bottom of the shirt and delicately wrapped them around her hand, bandaging the cut with surprisingly proficient technique. His hands lingered on hers for a heart beat when he finished, and then he quickly stepped back, holding the rest of the shirt out to Shepard who took it, but said nothing. He stared at her intently for a moment and then nodded at the sheath still in her hand that now also held the shirt. We're even.
He headed back towards the cable, seeming to stumble and limp a little as he neared it. He wrapped a hand firmly just above one of the knots and then wrapped his articulate toes around another near the ground before shouting something up into the space above them. The cord went taught, and he slowly started rising up the shaft, casting Shepard one last unfathomable look before vanishing out of sight.
/./././././././././././
"Fucking spirits," Appolis Venerati sowre as the winch in the roof of his shuttle pulled Garrus out of the shadows of the last slab of debris and into clear view. The turian C-Sec officer's salarian partners eyes were wider than usual as the two stared at their bloodstained fellow officer.
"What the hell happened to you?" Faverik asked as she leaned out of the shuttle's open doors, extending a long limb to Garrus.
He could understand her. His translator must be working again. Before the fifteen minute process of being winced back out the hellhole of the collapsed stair he'd understood Appolis as he called down from the area the other turian had been lowered to, but he'd thought that was just because they actually spoke the same language. But whatever disrupted the translator must have been depth related interference rather than something that had taken it out, because he could hear every word the alarmed salarian said. He took her hand with a grunt of thanks and she pulled him until he could grab onto the shuttle himself and release his death grip on the cable.
"We saw that there was street-sweeper siren request," Appolis said as he secured the cable and winch, folding it back into the ceiling of the shuttle, "but there was no request for backup, and then like almost three hours later we saw a drone was sending out an ascent blockage signal." He gave Garrus an apologetic look. "You alright? I'm sorry we weren't here sooner, I think the drones singal got muffled up by all the construction and stability crews. Do you-"
But his voice was drowned out as a horn blared. The three officers turned to see a large construction rig about a hundred meters from them, the krogan at its helm gesturing frustratedly for them to clear out of the way. The air around them was full of vessels of every size. Crews were inspecting the enormous rent in the side of the district wall. In some places, so much metal and concrete had been torn away that Garrus could see straight through to the backs of shops and homes, and several occupants were yelling angrily at the buzzing construction and security crews. The horn blasted again.
Appolis scowled at the krogan and made his way a little more slowly than was really necessary towards the shuttle's cockpit, took a seat and steered them out of the rigs way, the krogan giving them a rude gesture as they passed.
Faverik glared at the krogan piloted vessel, "should have left them as a bunch of oversized horned toads," she muttered.
"Now, now, Faverik, that's no way for a C-Sec officer to uphold the peace," Appolis said, grinning at her over his shoulder.
"Oh, shut it turian," she said, then her huge dark eyes focused on Garrus, "any of your blood under all this human crap?" she asked, gesturing to the smears of slowly browning red across his face and chest.
"No," Garrus said, "ahhh...I lucked out."
Appolis had slid out of the cockpit and was beginning to examine Garrus as well, "you said you were having trouble walking?" he asked.
"Uh...yeah," Garrus said, running a hand across his crest, "ah, took a few hits. I'll be black and blue later but fine in the long run."
Faverik tilted her head, "you trying to make it into the C-Sec calendar this year?" she teased as she gestured to his bare chest.
Garrus laughed and then immediately cringed as pain lanced through his side in one of the many areas that Shepard's expertly placed strikes had landed. "No," he said through gritted teeth, "jacket...ah got snagged on a pole or a pipe or a….who the hell knows, some piece of crap in all that mess." He gestured at the chasm of debris below them, "needed to shed a bit of skin in order to get out." Appolis was still looking concerned and Garrus tried to wave off his friend's concern but Appolis merely caught Garrus' right hand and began inspecting the bruised and cut up knuckles.
"You're usually the one to lecture me on letting anything happen to my hands," Appolis said with a grin that didn't dispel the worry in his eyes. Garrus tried to pull his hand away but his body hurt too much to put up much of a fight and he settled for growling at Appolis as the other male forced Garrus' arm up so he could inspect his side.
"Oh shut it," he said, squinting at the bruises that were beginning to blossom under Garrus' hide and plates, "I've met your sister. I'm way more scared of her finding out I missed something and you died of internal bleeding than any of that pijack chatter you're you managed to hit every major nerve bundle on the way down didn't you?" He scratched at some of the dried blood with a talon, nose twitching, "I'm surprised you're still-" but he stopped talking suddenly, his nostrils flaring again, slitted pupils widening in surprise. Then they met Garrus' gaze and he slowly lowered the arm, mandibles tight.
Favorik laughed. "I knew you were a fan, Appolis," she said, crossing her arms and grinning at her partner, "but I didn't think tending to a shirtless Vakarian was gonna compromise the operation. Do I need to leave you two alone for a few minutes?"
But Appolis didn't seem to hear her. He was still staring at Garrus, the warryness in his gaze making it hard for Garrus to keep his crest relaxed.
Garrus forced a laugh, "I'll remember you make a good wingman," he said with a wink at Favorik, "but nah, sadly I'm not his type. He's hung up on a mysterious quarian marine who has a habit of asking lots of questions about the paperwork for acquiring refurbished weapons." He gave Appolis a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, "he just caught a whiff of the sewage shower I had to crawl through to find a clear spot to launch the drone. Probably trying not to lose his lunch."
Appolis' expression was unreadable and Garrus held his breath. But the other turian coughed and turned away. "Yeah, thank evolution you don't have a nose like ours Fav," he glanced back at Garrus before heading back to the cockpit, "there's no mistaking what I can smell right now, and it's telling me way more than I want to know."
The salarian cackled and Garrus tried to still his racing heart. She closed up the doors of the shuttle and pulled out a data pad, "so how exactly did you end up down there?" She plopped down on one of the bench seats, crossing one hooked leg over the other, fingers poised over the datapads keyboard.
"You were in pursuit of someone, right?" Appolis called back causally as he began navigating the shuttle through the swarm of other ships around the top of the collapsed stair.
"Yeah..." Garrus said hesitantly.
"Human?" Favorik asked with a pointed glace at the blood across him.
"Yeah," Garrus siad, mind working quickly, "human biotic. Crazy bitch," the best lies had a bit of truth in them, "on red sand from the looks of it. Tired to pinch a credit chit off a civilian in a construction zone here on the Kiothi Ward." He took a seat next to her adding quickly, "think she was taking advantage of an area where the cameras were down," making the same tactical choice as his alternate-Shepard. Favorik nodded as her long fingers flashed across the keys.
"Managed to corner her in the stairs and she retaliated with a little light show. I think it must have gotten out of hand and taken out a crucial part of the supports and well...you can see how that went," he said, avoiding Appolis' glance over his shoulder by looking out the window at the broken wall of the ward.
"And how did you not become a turian pancake in all that?" Favorik asked with a raised brow.
"She panicked when the stair started falling," Garrus said, "I accidentally ended up on the inside of her shield instead of the outside."
Favorik snorted, "oh, I bet she loved that."
"Yeah, not so much," Garrus said, "her shield wouldn't drop, her high was impeding control."
"It always does," Favorik muttered with a shake of her head.
"She didn't have enough focus to take me out with biotics so the lunatic tried to claw my eyes out." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face dropping and added, "talons on bare forearms didn't exactly go too well and got a little...messy. I got worried I was gonna cut something serious so I took a leaf out of the krogan playbook and used a carapaced forehead on that thick skull of hers. Managed to knock her out, but the shield went out with her. I got lucky with the angle of the rubble over me."
"And the human?" Appolis asked, his gaze fixed forward out the shuttle window.
"Not so lucky," Garrus said.
Favorik swore.
"There a body we need to send someone to look for?" Appolis asked, slowing the shuttle's flight as they entered a line of traffic making its way around the reconstruction zone.
"No," Garrus said, "that section of the rubble tumbled farther down, I would have too if I hadn't gotten hooked on my jacket. They can look for a body, but I don't think they're gonna find anything other than blood."
"I know we're gonna have to protect and serve everybody," Favorik siad with a shake of her head, "but that blast could have taken out a lot more than her in the process. We might have lucked out, no missing persons yet." She turned the datapad towards Garrus, "I'll take a DNA sample just in case they find biomass."
"Let's do that at the station," Appolis said quickly, before Favorik could scan the blood on Garrus, "we'll get a better quality sample there. We don't want any confusion if this mess did take someone else out."
Garrus shrugged and said as casually as possible, "fine by me."
"Hey Fav," Appolis added, "didn't you do some special search and rescue work on Sur'Kesh?"
"Uh, yeah," she said with a frown, "did that before I started my C-Sec application."
"I'm seeing a lot of turians and humans in blue out here," he said, eyeing another C-Sec shuttle that glided past them, "you know, plenty of brawn but not a lot of brains. I think we should drop you off."
"I know Marwin said she was headed out here," Favorik said as she stored the datapad.
"Yeah, but C-Sec's blue skinned poster assari is gonna spend all her time lifting things with biotics. Noone's actually gonna listen to her," Appolis countered.
Favorik sighed in frustration, "fair point," she crossed the shuttle and began unstrapping one of the solo pursuit skimmers anchored to the wall, "I'll make sure she's not the only smart scaley one out there."
"Hey," Garrus said defensively, "I outested both of you in tactics! I have scales and I'm smart."
She squinted at him, "are you though? We just fished you half naked out of a pile of rubble."
She swung open the shuttle door and hooked a leg over the skimmers seat firing up the engine as Appolis said, "you know Garrus, cool and collected on paper, hot head in the field."
"Don't let him get any more banged up," she shouted over the growing humm of the skimmers engine, "I logged him as 'alive and mildly well' I don't wanna go through the paperwork to change that to K. I. A.! You're on babysitting duty!" Garrus gave her a rude hand gesture but she merely laughed and then zipped out the open doors and back the way they had come.
Appolis chuckled as Garrus secured the door and made his way towards the cockpit, "don't you love her?"
"No," Garrus grunted as he lowered himself into the seat, every place Shepard had hit him protesting loudly as he did, "she reminds me too much of my sister."
"Ahhh, maybe that's why I like her so much," Appolis mused. He glanced at Garrus' still shadepaint concealed face, "how is my favorite Vakarian by the way, oh secretive turnian male?"
Garrus snorted, pressing a finger to the side of his temple and drawing his custom deactivation key in the dark film across his tattoos, "fine I think. Haven't spoken to her in a while." The shadepaint nanites crept back across his face, making it look like streaks of tar were receding from his nose and sweeping back across cheeks, leaving his bright blue Vakarian clanmark visible. He kept his finger to his temple till the nanites wound down it and settled into a black ring around the digit and made a soft beep.
"Have you not spoken in a while?" Appolis asked as the shuttle picked up speed, "or have you not answered up her calls in a while?"
"I decline to answer," Garrus muttered. He frowned at the buildings they were passing, "this isn't the way to the station…"
There was tense silence between them for a moment.
"I know."
The shuttle dropped altitude and Appolis banked it around a corner and then began gliding through a quiet residential area. "I'm not taking you to the station. Not yet anyway." Appolis' eyes were fixed on the flight avenu ahead. "I know you've been going through a lot since Nihlus-"
"Don't -" Garrus growled.
But Appolis was insistent, "you lost your aunt to that thing with the War of Human Aggression when we were like what? Three? Atala was only a few months old- "
"This has got nothing to do with-"
"And then Nihlus died on that humans colony-"
"Appolis, you don't know what you're-" Garrus snarled but Appolis interrupted again.
"Anyone would understand you having...species difficulties right now."
"I'm not specieist and you fucking know it," Garrus snapped.
Appolis was silent and then said quietly, "you smell like human."
"Because I have blood-"
"And you smell like sex."
He stopped the shuttle in the middle of the empty airway, still not looking a Garrus, "did you force-"
"NO," Garrus spat.
Appolis looked at him.
"Are you really asking me if I would do something like that?" Garrus demanded.
But Appolis eyes were unflinching, "why did you say there was no body."
"Because there won't be," Garrus said, taking long breaths. He stared out the window in front of them, "she'll be gone."
"She?"
Garrus closed his eyes. "The human I engaged in consensual-"
"What does 'she'll be gone' mean?" Appolis demanded, eyes narrowed.
"It means somehow she always lives."
"How could you just leave-" Appolis said, voice raised, face contorted in horror as he turned towards Garrus.
"Tarrus," Garrus snapped.
"You smell like you fucked a human, your covered in dried blood saying you left-"
"Tarrus."
"It's a miracle we got you out-"
"TARRUS, spirits damn you," Garrus snapped, "we had a deal Appolis or have you forgotten-"
"Tarrus was completely different and was supposed to be-"
"This is the same damn thing," Garrus hissed. He took a deep breath and added. "Tarrus, please, Appolis, please."
Appolis stared at him for a long moment, shoulders hunched before eventually flopping back into his seat, rubbing in frustration at his brow. He sighed. "Look mate, I'm just trying to wrap my head around it and I can't if I don't understand."
Garrus snorted, shaking his head sadly, "wasn't the whole point of our deal?" He raised a brow, "I still don't understand how you managed to get a hannar-"
"Ok, ok," Appolis said quickly, raising his hands in surrender.
Garus gave him a long look, "coming back to you now?"
Appolis squeezed his eyes shut, "yes...unfortunately. Not that it's anything I'll ever forget," he grumbled.
Garrus slumped in his seat, "you and me both." Rivulets or rain running down golden skin, strands of red slipping through his fingers like silk, hot and soft lips on his neck. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
"What do you need?" Appolis asked with a sidelong glance.
Garrus sighed again, "a shower. Before crossing paths with any other turians...or a krogan."
Appolis released a single dry laugh, "regrettable experience then?"
Warm hands on his chest, a tongue on his, burning heat around his-
"Yes," he said flatly.
Appolis made a contemplative noise, "shower, no turians, or krogans. Well, your place is out, you have that doorman in the lobby. Cool, looks like we'll clog up my drain with human blood."
"What are friends for?" Garrs asked sarcastically. Appolis rolled his eyes. They flew in silence for a few minutes and then Garrus tapped his omni tool, keying in a few commands till the halo displayed a picture of an Alliance marine who looked annoyed, a lock of red hair falling into her eyes.
Appolis glanced at the picture and nearly crashed the shuttle as his head whipped back to the ghostly blue depiction of the female.
"Shit, Appolis! Watch where you're-"
"That's not the one you-"
"You're gonna hit the tram!"
Apollos banked the shuttle upward and they skimmed mere feet over a heavily packed civilian tram, the driver looking back at them in outrage.
Garrus released a long breath and eased back into his seat, releasing his hold on a handle attached to the roof of the shuttle and gave Appolis a reproving look.
"Was it her?" Appolis asked flatly.
Garrus looked away.
"Fucking spirits, Vakarian," Appolis said shaking his head in disbelief, "what made you-"
"I don't know." The growl was quiet, with no real edge. Appolis' mandibles tensed against his jaw and his crest flared slightly.
Shadows on the Citadel were lengthening, the arms having nearly rotated away from this system's sun completely. They weren't far off the beginning of the station's night cycle. The dissipating storm clouds painted the air above this arm with oranges and pinks like the flush on her skin as she panted above him…
"Do I need to get a message to the Alliance?" Appolis asked, his tone cautious and gentle for the first time that day.
Garrus shook his head.
"It's getting dark…it's gonna get really had to spot anything."
Garrus' gaze drifted back to those bright green eyes that seemed to burn even in a hologram.
"Not a wildfire."
/
Concrete and tile exploded outwards, and a billowing cloud of dust and burning air followed it. The blaze of red faded away, bits of wavering light remaining, cast from the few pieces of now burning furniture nearby. The dust began to settle and a shimmering blue sphere became visible, then winked out of sight. Broken tile crunched beneath booted feet and a grime streaked figure walked towards the whole they had just made in the furniture store's back wall.
Moria pulled the turian's shirt down from where she had wrapped it around her face as a mask, looking back down the zig-zagging expanse of rubble and debris she had just climbed out of.
Even. Yeah. You get airlifted out of this mess and I have to climb and blast my way out. She squinted at the dust covered ground, poking at the twisted metal corpse of the sniper rifle she had turned into an improvised explosive. Now we're even, asshole. She coughed as smoke filled her lungs and peered into the shop. A sofa was burning now, the blaze growing larger, alarms starting to ring though the street. Shit. Moria pushed the shirt-mask over her nose and mouth once again, tightening it to try to keep out the fumes now likely filling the air, and walked forward into the fire.