Chapter Fifty Seven: Congratulations! You're Part Krogan!
Colt had been running around the Citadel delivering regiment banners and antidotes for mysterious ailments. He hated to be a delivery boy during wartime, but there wasn't another way to gain support. Thousands would be heading to Dock D-24 to pick up all the stuff Shepard had acquired for their support.
He was done with deliveries at long last and headed towards Liara's last known location, Apollo's. Liara was chatting with Aethyta. He had walked by occasionally, and had heard some pretty... interesting stuff. He hoped he hadn't missed the good stuff.
"You're a quarter Krogan, kid," Aethyta told Liara. Colt was walking past them to the vending machine, but upon hearing this information he went backwards.
"Please tell me that's true," Colt begged. He came up to the bar and sat next to Liara. She groaned and put a hand over her face.
"Sure is, remember all the stories I told you? My dad was Krogan," Aethyta announced happily.
"Oh, I remember the stories," he gave a shudder. "So Liara, that explains a lot. I always privately thought you were Krogan-like. You know with the, 'I'll shred you with my mind,' stuff," Colt reminded her.
"If you ever feel the need to head butt something, go ahead. It's a biological need," Aethyta pointed out. She and Colt quietly fist bumped when Liara groaned.
"That's not really how it works," Liara responded.
"Sure it is. I can tell that you're about to go all bloodrage on us and just start head butting everything in sight," Aethyta explained.
"I have never wanted to head butt anything," an exasperated Liara replied.
"Oh, come on. I'm sure you want to head butt Shepard sometimes," Aethyta offered.
"I do not head butt people," Liara said, although she looked very close to head butting them both.
"I do," Colt volunteered.
"See, your Commander slash man-friend knows how it's done," Aethyta pointed a finger towards Colt, and nodded approvingly.
"I am not going to win this," Liara was resigned. She was eyeing the liquor, so Colt stepped in.
"Do you want to do something?" He asked the poor asari.
"Like what?" Liara asked, and looked at him suspiciously.
"Oh, I have a few ideas," Colt eyes were bright with excitement, and a smirk was stretching across his face.
...
"Glorious," Colt whispered. He stood before a store called Alliance HQ. The display windows showed off shirts featuring the entire ground crew of the Normandy. Liara was really hoping that he wouldn't find out about the store, Goddess knows he didn't need his ego inflated more.
"All the Commander Shepard novelties will be sold out if we don't hurry," Liara broke his silent reverie.
He turned his head towards her, and grinned so deviously, Liara couldn't help but giggle like a fifty year old. He always pulled her into hair-brained schemes, and did so with such intoxicating glee, that she couldn't say no. He grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the store. A minute later he let go of her hand, and disappeared.
"Liara! Look!" Shepard came up from behind a few minutes later, and startled her. For being as loud as he usually was, Colt had surprisingly silent feet. A hat sat messily on his head, and had a picture of him on it as well as some script.
"What does it say?" Liara had never seen him wear a hat, and the sight was odd.
"Sheploo," Colt laughed at the word, and darted off to another part of the store. Liara started looking at the various knick-knacks. She found a large amount of stuff of her, or with her in it, for a store claiming to be Alliance centered. She really wasn't sure if she was part of the Alliance or outside of its jurisdiction.
"Liara!" Colt yelled from the other half of the store. She was hard-wired from missions to get worried whenever someone yelled her name, so she ran to his location.
"What is it? Are you okay?" Liara hurriedly pulled up next to him and started assessing the situation.
"Maybe I should be the one asking if you're okay," he murmured. His voice was full of distress for her. She came to the conclusion that she must have charged onto the scene like it was battle, not a shopping adventure. Combat-filled missions had made her jumpy over the years. Liara realized with a start that she had just diagnosed herself with a mild form of PTSD.
A couple nights ago, she had woken up to Colt bursting in her room. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was near panic. She had never, ever seen him anything but calm or angry. He begged her to sleep in his bed with him, stating that he couldn't have pleasant dreams alone. She complied, and hadn't slept in her own bed since. He refused to tell her what the nightmare was- she could tell that he didn't want to burden her. After the incident, she did some research. She had known about PTSD, but she found out more about the symptoms.
One of them was being unable to relax, and going into situations like they were combat. She had just displayed that symptom. "Liara, look at me. Liara," Colt was talking in her face and had taken hold of her shoulders.
She returned from her thoughts, and smiled at his worried face. "I'm okay, it's okay," Liara reassured him.
"If I had known that the bobble heads would upset you so much, I wouldn't have said anything," he laughed without humor, and pulled her closer. "I do the same thing," he whispered this in her ear, "Whenever I hear screaming, I'm on a battlefield. Just today, I was walking to Apollo's, and a baby started screaming. I got into a combat crouch, in the middle of the Citadel. I was in a war. Took me seven minutes to come out of it, and ten to stop shaking. It was a baby, Liara. A damn baby, not some sick Cerberus experiment, or a Reaper shock troop. I do it too. It's fine," Colt sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
...
"Is everything in place?" Colt asked, he walked around the CIC. Today was the day that Gabby and Ken got back on the Normandy. The crew had thrown together a little Welcome Back party thing, emphasis on little.
"Yes, sir," an ensign replied. Everyone was gathered around the doors, waiting for some of their favorite engineering people. All they needed was Tali back on the ship.
"WELCOME BACK," the many voices combined to make a deafening roar. Colt himself had a little thing that shot confetti. He watched with amusement as the little pieces of paper drifted on Ken and Gabby.
"Wow, thanks guys," Ken told the excited group. He surveyed the semi-decorated CIC. Shepard had made a banner that said Welcome Back, but his handwriting was famous for being illegible. Presents were shoved in the corner, and corny party games were set up. Colt's favorite was Pin-The-Eyepiece-On-Garrus.
"Let's play the Garrus Game," Colt led them to the surprisingly decent picture of Gar Bear. He started crying he was laughing so hard when Gabby pinned Garrus' eyepiece on a place you wouldn't want a needle going through.
"Let's all take a moment to appreciate the fact this isn't a Voodoo doll," Colt said between fits of laughter. He started laughing more when he saw Garrus' face. Eve's thunderous laughter filled the CIC.
"Present time!" Traynor called out, probably in an attempt to calm everyone down. Things had been so tense lately that everyone was laughing without control. Mordin was even laughing slightly.
Colt handed them the welcome back gifts he had made. He had gotten money from the crew to get the presents, so they were from everyone. He hadn't told anyone what he got them, so it was fun seeing everyone's reaction.
They were cups with two pictures. Ken's had his picture with sunglasses photo shopped on his face, and the caption, 'Who says engineering isn't cool?' On the other side was the whole engineering department with sunglasses inserted on their face. Gabby's was the same except the first picture was her with sunglasses on. Both had their names printed on the handle.
"From the crew," Colt said with a smile. The cups were being passed around, and being ooed and awed at.
"Thanks guys. This is just...I don't know what to say," Gabby was looking between the mug and the corny decorations.
"Then don't say anything. Family is supposed to do things like this," Colt put his arms on Ken, and Gabby's shoulders. Colt hadn't had a home in years. His childhood home burnt down with his dad inside, and ever since then he had wandered. For two years he belonged with the Tenth Street Reds, then Arcturus Station, and then several ships after that. The Normandy came close, but it wasn't his. These people; however, they were his family. He didn't have a home, but he did have a family. Maybe they were the same thing.