For a single, long moment that felt like eternity Laurel couldn't breathe. Anise's body had crumpled to the floor, her head crunching as it smacked on the cold marble. Shell-shocked, she stared at the body, mouth open as the world moved around her. She blocked out the jeers and sneers of Jensen as she half crawled, half ambled over to her sister's body. Deus kicked the pistol out of Jensen's hand, before stamping his large foot down on the man's arm. There was the unmistakable sound of bone breaking. The gunshot wound on Anise was not visible, but Laurel felt warm blood pooling into her lap. Her eyes were still open as Laurel cradled the body, and astoundingly the tears still rolled out of them.
"Anise…." She whispered. Laurel turned to look at Deus, his mandibles sagging in sorrow.
"Can you…I can feel her…her face is still twitching!" she cried, pressing an ear to Anise's mouth, hoping for a breath. Deus let his rifle drop slightly, the barrel pointing at the ground as he shook his head ever so slightly. Her face creasing, her nostrils flaring, Laurel sucked in a sob.
"Oh God…" she whispered, pressing a kiss to her sister's cheek. In that moment, she heard footsteps behind.
"What the hell is going on here?" Aria had arrived, her heels clacking as she strode straight into the room.
"Oh thank you, Marik. At least you've started the job," she said, head held high as she strutted past Deus. She reloaded her shotgun before pressing a heel into Jensen's already broken arm.
"So glad you finally see you again, Scott. Oh, yes, it's Jensen, isn't it? Before I blow your head off, you'll tell me what I need to know about your company. Weapons manufacturer isn't it? Oprikar is the name? That's definitely changing. Well it's mine now."
"I ain't telling you shit," struggled Jensen, despite the pain he was in. Aria huffed and pulled the trigger on her shotgun.
"NO!" screamed Laurel, but it was already too late. Jensen's head was all over the floor, in tiny bloody pieces.
"MIRE! Get your batarian ass up here!" called Aria, stepping over Jensen's body like it was yesterday's rubbish. Laurel could smell iron in the air and felt her stomach churn. She could taste it in her mouth. There was warmth on her face – his blood. Shock and nausea threatened to overwhelm her but she let anger overpower it. She threw herself upwards onto her feet and charged towards Aria, ignoring Deus who went to stop her. She rammed her palms into Aria's back, hoping to force the asari face-first into the ground.
"I SAID NO!" she roared. Aria had fallen forward – but only slightly. "I SAID DON'T KILL HIM!" She went to punch Aria but was only met by Aria's biotics, lifting her into the air and threatening to throw her far.
"Why so…sentimental about him, sweetie?" Aria said, although her voice was icy.
"You mercenaries…you're all the fucking same! Money and violence – that's all you CARE about!" Laurel yelled, so loudly her throat hurt.
"In case you've forgotten – pathetic human – I said we'd do this my way. You said you were crystal clear. We're here for my benefit, firstly because you fucked the job up two years ago anyway and secondly because you came to me. Whatever you want is secondary. And it's not even that, to be honest." Aria's fist tightened in the air, ready to throw Laurel into the wall, across the room.
"Aria…please don't," Deus stepped forward, holding his talons up. Aria eyed him for a moment before she let Laurel drop to the ground callously. Laurel felt the sudden ache from her own wounds flare up as she picked herself off the ground.
"At least grant me one thing," she said, catching Deus's exasperated glare. The skin above Aria's eyes was raised mockingly.
"You have a lot of guts, I'll grant you that," Aria replied.
"His intel." Aria narrowed her eyes, chewing on her lip as what looked like her mind ticking over.
"I'm taking control of his company. You'll have no intel, honey."
"I don't care about his company, it's irrelevant. I just need information. Let me dig through his files." Aria's eyes narrowed; clearly her mind was ticking, going through what Laurel was asking for.
"Enough to clear my name," she whispered, voice trembling, the past few days threatening to overwhelm her completely. It was Deus who spoke next, looking at Laurel rather than Aria.
"Whatever the intel is…can't be good for humanity…the Alliance," he murmured. "It will hurt your species prospects." For a moment, everything aside, Laurel felt a deep reserve of longing and respect pool in her chest. Despite his experiences, the hardships and the long-held prejudice – he was warning her. He suddenly cared. He was ready to ditch whatever views he had before.
"Can't say I give a damn about humanity's prospects," spat Aria. "Extra thorn in my side. No other species has tried to take Omega from me like Cerberus has. Extradite them all back to Earth, I say." Deus and Laurel didn't listen to her words.
"So?" began Laurel a moment later, meeting Aria's gaze firmly. The asari met her gaze, chewing her lip, and gave a faint nod. She turned on her heel, shotgun resting on her shoulder as she promenaded out of the room. Laurel's eyes drifted back to her sister's body.
"Poor, poor Anise…." she whispered, stroking her sister's still-warm face. Her eyes roved over her sister's body, at her torn, dirty dress. There was a square-sized shape, faintly distinct as the fabric had been pulled taut over Anise's thigh. Frowning, Laurel pinched the fabric away from the hardened thigh, seeing it was a concealed pocket. She ripped the fabric open, and slipped two fingers inside to draw out a carefully folded note. She opened it up, seeing handwriting – a near-dead form of communication that astounded her as she read it, sinking to the ground.
To Laurel,
I don't know how much time I have left, so I'm writing this to you. What I've done is unforgivable, but I hope in time you'll come to understand. For many years I had no idea that Jensen was the one that had betrayed you – the man who had been your fellow soldier in the Alliance. He was your superior whom you trusted. Foolishly, like most people, I believed the lies that were all fed in order to make you appear guilty. I now know that it was all covered up. Unknown to many people, Jensen was already part of a black ops group that predated the Cerberus we now know. Information about the First Contact War's nuclear probes had always been kept secret by the Alliance. They say if any news were to get out there would be a war again. Officials wanted to smooth things over quickly, stop the real news getting out. When he acquired the assets to his current company – Oprikar the weapons manufacturer – he blackmailed these officials whom then formed a weapons deal with him so he kept his silence about the nuclear probe. On the surface Oprikar is like Sirta or Kassa Fabrications. Much I still don't know, but a lot of their weapons are made using illegal technology.
You were a good scapegoat – Jensen's lies and his cosy relationship with top brass made sure of it. Many of these Alliance officials were First Contact War veterans, so they were very comfortable with alliances with the aliens being severed. A member of Cerberus attacked me on the Citadel when I refused to keep giving them information – I was getting cold feet about them. The same happened to you – Jensen must've found out we were related. They did everything in their power to appeal to me at first, to make themselves look good, proclaiming they were doing everything in humanity's 'best interests'. I had to leave. I was nervous about C-Sec finding out too much. I didn't want them to find out what had Cerberus had been doing, and selfishly, that I was an undercover agent. I regret it all now. I found out the truth, through means that nearly got me killed. I found out what had happened between you, Jensen and Aria a couple of years back. I found out that a batarian named Mire, had been with you. I tracked him down. Once I had an agent recover the blackbox, paying a hefty fee to a junk-collecting krogan who had no idea what it was, I came into contact with him. It was miraculous the blackbox survived – I had very little faith that it would've. I told the batarian Mire to make sure you received it. I gave him information about Jensen's mansion – said he could win back Aria's favour and her money, by doing this. So he hired another agent – not to frighten you – to give you the blackbox. I hope whatever happens that you'll receive the justice you deserve. I hope whatever happens, things won't turn out bad for humanity. Forgive me.
Your sister, Anise
Laurel sat there, by her sister's body, the note still in her sweaty hands. She felt numb, unable to process what she'd just read. She must've sat there for a long time, for the sun had set by the time she heard footsteps behind her.
"Laurel?" said a deep voice, quiet. It was Deus, who had knelt down beside her. The note was still between her index and middle fingers. Tenderly, he took the note, opening it up. Of course he wouldn't have been able to read it.
"Let me read it to you, it's not very long," she croaked, taking back the piece of paper. He nodded impassively, still kneeling beside her, as she read her sister's last words to him. When she finished, she found he was looking at Anise with an odd expression on his face. She attributed this to what she'd just read, but he leaned forward suddenly, knocking her aside slightly.
"What-"
"She's still breathing!" Deus cried.
"That's…." Laurel was going to say impossible, but nothing was impossible these days. She wasn't sure why she hadn't immediately checked…had she assumed that her sister was lost? Guilt flooded her. Deus brought up his omni tool to immediately call for an ambulance. Laurel swivelled her eyes around the room. It took her several minutes to find the bullet, lying on the other side of the room.
"The bullet!" she exclaimed, picking it up and showing it to Deus.
"That's good," he replied, examining the bullet. "There'll be less damage to the brain." Laurel saw he was immediately monitoring Anise's blood pressure.
"Why are you measuring her blood pressure?" she asked. Deus was quiet for a moment as he studied his omni tool.
"If her blood pressure drops, it could spell trouble," he replied. "High enough blood pressure is needed to maintain brain function."
"It's been too long..." whispered Laurel. Anxiety filled her chest, making it twinge in pain and forcing bile into the back of her throat. It was easier to believe she was dead, rather than hoping she might survive this or risk losing her again after hoping.
"Is it possible?" she asked Marik, as she paced to and fro across the room's floor.
"I don't know, my love," he said. "I don't want to guess anything. It's possible but it's all physics – where the bullet passed in the brain for example. I don't know."
They waited until the ambulance arrived to take Anise away.
They returned after spending several hours in the capital's hospital, exhausted beyond anything. Laurel did not want to return to sleep or wash in Jensen's unbearable mansion where the violence and trauma had happened. Deus immediately understood, paying for a hotel on the outskirts of a city. They ordered room service, eating their respective meals on the bed, watching something inane on the television. Laurel felt the aches and pains from the day, the results showing on her bare legs, her hips and back in bruises. She didn't realise that she'd even undressed without a thought in front of Deus, who was doing his best to avert his gaze. This made her smile, in spite of everything.
"Did you want to shower?" she asked him quietly. Only her top half was still dressed but he looked embarrassed nonetheless.
"I…" He said nothing more as she walked over to take his hand, pulling him towards the bathroom. She pulled off his clothes, letting him sink his talons into her hair softly. Together they stood underneath the warmth of the showerhead, letting the water cascade, caress, wash away. It was a time where they could share being in the moment. Let go of whatever pasts and futures there were and could be. By the next morning, they rose later than usual and went back to the hospital. The neurosurgeon came up to them, tapping away on a handheld terminal.
"Hi, I'm Dr Walker, Anise's neurosurgeon. I have good news," she said, flashing a brilliant white smile. Laurel couldn't let her heart be lifted – doubt lingered still.
"We have stabilised Anise. The bullet didn't go through the midline of the brain-"
"What does that mean?" interrupted Laurel.
"Poor likelihood of survival if it goes through the midline," replied the surgeon, unfazed. "Although she is in critical condition, we have hopes. Your sister is young and healthy. She has responded to some simple commands – which is miraculous given the situation."
"What commands?" asked Laurel, a rush of euphoria briefly filling her chest like a balloon.
"Very…simple commands. She could clearly understand what I was saying – she squeezed my hand when I asked her to. Overnight we operated on her – we had to remove part of her skull to allow for the brain to swell. But…she is not out of the woods yet, so to speak." Dr Walker paused for a few moments, waiting for Laurel. Yet Laurel said nothing this time. "Your sister has suffered a devastating injury – but we remain optimistic. That she is alive might surprise you but people survive these sorts of injuries more than you think." In an act of unexpected kindness, Dr Walker leaned forward and gave Laurel a squeeze on the shoulder.
"She is still in intensive care – but you can see her for half an hour." Laurel thanked the doctor. Anise looked very much unlike herself, in fact the sight shocked and somewhat sickened Laurel. She looked much thinner than usual, although this was probably due to her head being entirely shaved, a thin layer of bandaging covering where they'd recently operated on. Anise's face was pale, looking half dead with purple under her eyes, across her cheek and forehead. Laurel took her sister's hand, squeezing as she bent to kiss her on the cheek. She whispered words into her sister's ear. You can make it. I know you can. Keep fighting. I love you.
Both Laurel and Deus spent a day at Jensen's mansion, collecting and preparing everything they needed. She was unsure what to do with Jensen's body, consulting Deus on the idea. He said to contact the nearest authorities after Aria left – moving anything might tamper with evidence. Not that Laurel wanted to move anything. The remains of Jensen in that dreaded room still flashed through her mind at inopportune moments. Not alerting them either would also arouse suspicion or potentially blacken her name further. She'd finally convinced Aria to come round to her idea – not that Aria cared much in the long run. The night they spent there instead of the hotel left her feverish the next morning, aching and sweating from the recent events. Deus comforted her when he could, but he knew when to step back. His behaviour continued to surprise her. When they'd finished, Aria was outside, a skycab taxi waiting. She must've finished cleaving Jensen of everything he had. Mire and Pazik were standing beside her.
"Got everything you need, human?" Aria said when they met up. The sun was rising above the far distant city far below the mansion's grounds. Laurel nodded, unable to say anything, still feeling like she wanted to throttle the asari. Without much adieu, both Laurel and Deus climbed into the taxi, taking the long ride back to Milgrom. Before the door could close down behind them, she heard Mire's voice behind. She sat down, steadily meeting his eyes.
"I'm sorry about Anise," he said. Although she kept her expression vacant, shock coursed through her.
"Thanks, Mire," she replied. "For all you've done." He gave her a small nod.
"She's alive but in critical condition…there's hope," she added. His face brightened somewhat.
"Tell her…I send my regards." He span round before she could say anything else. Deus's face was incredulous as she turned round to face him in the cab. As they sped back, she watched the landscape of the untouched planet whiz by them, the sun's glittering light filtering through woodland. Aria agreed that she would immediately move the company's assets to a new location. They left without payment, without any kind of thank you, yet Laurel found she didn't care. She was going to prove something she hoped would absolve her completely. She found she was at odds with herself though; she couldn't leave Anise on her own on this essentially unknown planet. Yet the longer she put off handing in the evidence, the less likely her story would hold much weight.
Once notified, the authorities had questioned them as suspects due to Jensen's murder, but after countless hours they found they had no reason to press charges, especially after Laurel presented her evidence. Unfortunately, Jensen's remaining relatives were kicking up a stink like none other, hoping to get her incarcerated. Laurel couldn't blame them, to them they'd just lost a son, brother, uncle - she didn't think he'd been a father. The local authorities, when presented with this evidence said it was out of their hands – she had to go to the Alliance. His death still remained suspicious, especially as she had a motivator to kill him. The entire case dragged on for a week, although it gave Laurel time to visit Anise in hospital who was still stable, but in a medically induced coma. Utilizing the various cameras placed throughout his house, the authorities had their evidence on who killed Jensen. Although they hadn't captured his death, the gunshot wound corresponded with the gun that Aria wielded. That amongst other events in the videos proved enough. Laurel offered to pay damages, thinking of his family, but Deus firmly refused. In fact, when they left the station he was thoroughly annoyed.
"I don't understand, Laurel," he said, his steps heavier than usual and the clacking of his mandibles distinctly audible. "Why would you care about his family? The man is a treacherous, dishonourable, ruthless-"
"I know," she said, laughing slightly. "But…I don't know. I never intended him to die. No one deserves to die." Deus stopped immediately as if frozen.
"Do you really mean that?" he asked quietly. "The man would have no hesitation to kill you or anyone for that matter – look what happened with your sister. He ruined your life, surely you're disrespecting your sister by feeling some sort of pity-"
"Don't you dare," she hissed. "What separates me from him - and don't get me wrong, I detest the man with every inch of my being - is that I'm not a killer, not someone who resorts to violence to solve problems. I'm not governed by vengeance." Her jaw was gritted at that moment, suddenly furious with him for saying such a thing to her. She met his eyes again after glancing away, aware they were in a busy street. People passed by unaware. When she turned to look at him again, he looked different. Could she say pleased? She didn't want to hazard a guess.
"You surprise me, Laurel. And…I'm sorry," he said. She nodded at his apology but said nothing more. The day continued on, somewhat painfully, but she thought on his words. Did I mean that – that no one deserves to die? Had she grown soft over these years? Perhaps such words surprised a turian – a turian whose society was intensely militaristic. She consoled herself that death was much easier than living – that justice and living with punishment was greater than any death.
When they caught a thankfully shorter-than-usual flight back to the Citadel, Laurel's thoughts were interrupted by Deus's surprisingly gentle touch on her hand. Both of them hadn't spoken a word throughout their journey. She met his eyes; it seemed his features were much softer now, more…appealing than they were before. Less sharp, less intimidating, almost gentle and fine looking. She wasn't sure what she thought of this – she'd slept with this turian, lived with him and confided in him so why did he seem so different now?
"If I were another turian, I'd say we could do with a drink about now," he said, mandibles moving in a way that she knew to be a smirk. She couldn't help herself and let loose a small smile.
"It'll be tap water for you," she replied. "Designated driver for life." He gave a loud laugh in return, one that warmed her heart, one she needed and deserved.
After they'd spent a night at his apartment, ate, washed and slept, Deus went with her to find Dr. Varalan, the salarian who had Laurel's blackbox. Unsurprisingly she was stiff with tension throughout their journey to the dingy ward where the salarian's surgery was. Deus was glad for this trip for many reasons, one of them was relieving Laurel of her constant nerves. The last time they'd been here, a krogan bounty hunter had just discovered them at their hiding place.
"Oh God," she said, when they'd arrived at the salarian's surgery. The door, unfortunately, had a huge hole in its front. Evidently the krogan had shotgun blasted his way through.
"An impatient kind of guy, wasn't he," Deus joked, but Laurel didn't hear, already buzzing on the intercom frantically. It took her ten times to thumb the button until a muffled crash and sigh came through loudly on the speaker.
"Sur-Kesh preserve me…just WHAT is so important that you have to BREAK my intercom system and interrupt me during a ten-hour surgery?!" came a curiously familiar high-pitched voice. Whatever had been smashed in the background was still causing a kerfuffle, for they heard continued crashing.
"Dr. Varalan?" asked Laurel, her shoulders relaxing somewhat. Deus had to hold in his laughter to a point it began to hurt his chest.
"WHO ELSE?!" raged the high voice in the speaker. Deus's chest thrummed with built-up laughter.
"It's Laurel Westfahl, doctor. I believe you have something of mine." They were left to hear the background noise for a moment. The door suddenly clicked, and Laurel threw a look over to Deus. He shrugged, and they both walked into the lobby of the surgery. They were left to stand in the quiet lobby, which had recently seen an impressive fight. A few minutes later came through a familiar figure, tall and skinny with large, dark eyes. Dr. Varalan looked miraculously unharmed for someone whom Deus presumed to have faced a recent krogan bounty hunter. He was dressed in a high-necked white lab coat, scarlet blood splattered over it. He held up his gloved hands, which were also covered in a lot of blood.
"You're…" breathed Laurel.
"Alive, yes," snapped Varalan. Laurel didn't say anything more, letting the silence sit between them.
"Another hour of surgery," said the doctor, finally after a few awkward minutes of silence. "Then I can attend to you. You both look tired. Go to my apartment upstairs, I'll meet you there." And with that, he turned away and let the door slam hard behind him.
"I'm not really surprised he survived," murmured Deus as they climbed the stairs up to the salarian's apartment. Right on time an hour and a bit later, Dr. Varalan appeared, free of his bloody coat and gloves. Deus took a moment to scan the salarian's body; apparently free of any injuries, despite most of him being covered in blood only moments earlier. In his hand he was carrying the blackbox and he walked straight up to Laurel to hand it over to her. Her face, already white from exhaustion and the last few days, turned whiter.
"I…thank you so much," she whispered.
"You're welcome," replied the doctor. He tilted his head a little. "You're still wearing my clothes, I see." Laurel wiped some recently formed tears away with the back of her hand.
"Oh, sorry…did you want me to return them?" she stammered.
"No, Laurel-" cut in Deus, briefly annoyed.
"Don't worry, Marik, I'm not going to ask her to strip," the doctor interrupted him. Laurel was still in shock to be embarrassed but Deus felt a coil of embarrassment and turned away, feeling heat between his facial plates. Laurel sat down, cradling the blackbox in her hands.
"How did you…?" she began, as the doctor sat down on the chair opposite her.
"With some great difficulty but quick thinking and ingeniousness. The krogan is still alive but is currently detained at C-Sec – presumably in a cell. He caused some damage to my premises but I've made arrangements for…compensation."
"Remind me never to cross you, doctor," said Deus, unnerved by the salarian's words.
"How can I ever repay you?" asked Laurel, tears still shining in her eyes. Deus grew impatient, as he watched the doctor tap his chin in thought with a long, slim finger.
"Use my services if you need them - as long as you're on the Citadel," he said.
"I hope you don't charge a great deal," mumbled Deus as Laurel got up to shake hands with Varalan.
It took several months for Laurel and the Alliance. Deus patiently waited, gave her the support she needed, let her stay at his apartment when she returned to the Citadel. She was catching flights back and forth between Alliance Headquarters, Earth, and the Citadel. During all of this, she arranged for Anise to be transferred to the Citadel, where she had been making slow but steady progress. She had come out of her induced coma and was responding more and more each day. Laurel doubted she'd be the same person she was. Despite surviving such a traumatic injury, the damage had been done to the left side of her brain, where speech and language were processed. She would struggle to talk, struggle to use her left and right arm. Yet the doctors were hopeful. She needed time. Meanwhile, the media had caught wind of Laurel's story, spinning out tales that were both true and false. He knew she risked her species' prospects, risked a war, risked being ostracised. Defamations were used against her, highlighted by some aspects of the media; that she was selfish, that was she a liar, that she risked all for personal gain.
It was hard for him to see her stressed, more than he'd ever seen her. He wasn't sure if they'd make it through. He had tried to forget her, he had broken up with her, he had given up his worst habit that ruined everything for the sake of starting again – but she'd stepped back into his life as if his efforts had been for nothing. Deus wasn't sure what he wanted with this human, this human whom he shared an extremely complicated history with. He loved her, by spirits did he love her – but could they be together? She had more to deal with than he did. She had wounds that had still not healed. Whatever hostile feelings he'd felt in the past were gone now. They had dissolved into nothing. Bureaucracy took so long. He made sure to keep up with the latest human headlines – thankfully they were still human – the Citadel news hadn't caught on yet. When the first series of headlines that slandered Laurel had passed, they next moved onto Jensen's company. Several human news companies were on the side of Cerberus – of Jensen – saying that aliens were a threat. These were the same news companies that had made accusations against Laurel. The brief times she did return to his apartment she was fraught with anxiety.
"They're right!" she cried one night, hands buried in her hair. "I am doing this only for personal gain – potentially sabotaging the alliance between my species and yours!" He had to bring her round several times to his various points. He injected humour, something that was certainly not his style, let alone turian, into his points.
"I think you're important Laurel, but I know you're not that important," he joked. This surprised her, much to his delight.
"You're getting more human every day," she said, stroking a single finger down his arm.
"Don't push it." It was moments like these that made him think on how he wanted a future with her. Yet he did not push her, he gave her space. After all, he was the one who initially broke apart from her. It was up to her, he decided. When she told him the date of the trial – the re-trial – he tried to keep her mind off it until the date arrived. She was more nervous than he'd ever seen her. He wanted to give her time to relax, time to gather herself.
The date of the re-trial soon arrived. It had been two months since the events on Bekenstein. The re-trial took over a week, the implications that Jensen had bribed Alliance officials with weapons made by his company to keep silent about the probes had caused sensation amongst the human press. The pressure to keep the reports of the nuclear probes away from galactic news was heightening with each time Laurel stepped into the courtroom. What would the implications be if the turians knew the full story? To think of another war was terrifying, especially for a species that was not only more advanced but had the other species on their side (aside from the krogans). The defence barrister was ruthless in her questioning, as Laurel sat there with her palms sweating, her knees knocking. She felt the eyes of the jurors poring deep into her as she tried to keep her voice straight while answering the questions of the barrister. Her barrister kept a calm and cool composure as he used the various items of power he had in his possession, the most powerful being the undeniable evidence. The judge, much to Laurel's relief, kept the atmosphere not as tense as she expected by being uncommonly polite and somewhat humorous. Several times did Laurel trip in her words, she decided that it was best to keep her involvement with Aria downplayed, save anything she said or any evidence presented would be moot. She only mentioned past dealings with Aria – the recent involvement she kept silent about. Whether this would come back to bite her on the arse she didn't know.
Fortunately the uproar about Jensen and his bribery sent the press and public in overdrive. The fact that Aria T-Loak, an asari crime boss, had control of Oprikar didn't matter. Yet the factory had manufactured illegal weapons, in the hands of an asari, was not exactly fortunate either. The situation was immensely complicated, not to mention immeasurably tiring. She returned to Deus's apartment each night, where he made her beautifully delicious meals to perk her back up and then snuggle with her in bed. They settled into a routine that was comfortable – they could be silent and content in each others' company. They were beginning to see each other as companions, rather than rivals or sexual partners. She was still unnerved by seeing him in bed beside her each morning, and couldn't help but flinch after a bad dream, for example. Her subconscious often ran wild in her dreams, making her dream so vivid she woke up feeling like she'd been somewhere else other than asleep. Her mind doubted many things – it was its natural way, it had settled into it. She thought of seeing a counsellor like she had many years ago – but she'd never found the right person. Sometimes talking about the past or present made the feelings so much worse. Time in the courtroom became tedious – the current in and outs of the jurors, the barristers, the breaks – and she often found herself become heavy-eyed, especially in the afternoon. Deus seemed to be busy with work – at his terminal in his study – so she decided to enquire one night – the night before the outcome.
"Looking for work," he replied, engrossed in staring at the screen. She snorted.
"You've got enough money to live out the rest of your life as a free man," she said. She didn't understand people who had this sort of privilege wanting to return to work. She could think of plenty of things to do when not working – studying was one of them. Laurel had begun to think of going back to her dreams of being an ornithologist.
"You know my species," was Deus's reply. "And…boredom might induce drinking."
"Why not start a new hobby?" she said.
"What's a hobby, exactly?" he replied, turning to look at her this time. Her mouth dropped open. Maybe it didn't translate properly.
"Look, if you want to continue your studies, then one of us needs to bring in money…"
"I'm not going to live off you," she said, feathers distinctly ruffled. He looked put out slightly.
"That's not what I meant…I mean, I want to help you. Working and studying is often hard put together." This flattered her. Perhaps it was what she needed, yet she felt everything depended on the outcome of the trial.
"Surely you're not going back to C-Sec?" she asked.
"Well I was a doctor – I was thinking of treating civilians this time, instead of soldiers," he said, with what looked like a smile. This surprised and pleased her – he was a far cry from the turian she'd known years ago. Besides Deus, her sister Fern had been a constant rod of love and support. Towards the end of the trial, she made the journey to the Citadel to greet Laurel. Fern had asked Laurel if she was comfortable with letting her meet Deus, despite everything she'd told her sister. A wave of nausea had filled Laurel at the thought of her sister meeting this turian – a turian whose dark past she'd briefly shared with. How would Fern react in person? She knew Fern was easy-going but Laurel hadn't known enough of the adult Fern to truly judge. In the end, she was too overcome by nerves to introduce Fern to Deus. Fern seemed desperate to meet him, but understood her sister's concerns.
"I get you're tense, Laur," she said. "But the past is the past. Both of you are different people now. The fact that he is in love with you-"
"No, he isn't," Laurel insisted as they walked to Fern's hotel. Fern rolled her eyes.
"For God's sake, you make it so difficult! The fact that he's willingly changed, that he fell in love with you first…doesn't that heal whatever past you used to have?"
"He changed? He did all the good?" Laurel sneered. "Why, I should give him a damn medal." Fern later said to her that Laurel's uncooperative and negative mood was due to the trial. Laurel tried to agree.
"You do like to live your life on a knife-edge, you know," smirked Fern. "Maybe I'll just go and meet Deus behind your back." Laurel was seriously annoyed by this comment. However all was forgotten the next day when the jurors removed themselves from the room to make their decision. For over two hours they'd been in another room, discussing the trial to no one else's ears but theirs. It was one of the tensest moments in Laurel's life. By the time the jurors came back, they gave their vote. When it was finished, her knees were weak and her head dizzy with shock, she didn't even feel angry when she saw Deus and Fern together waiting for her outside the courtroom.
Exoneration.