Garrus left the elevator with his pistol in hand.
The whole dining area was filled with crew members. Loud music blared from the speakers in the ceiling. Cheering Turians crowded around what seemed to be a table. Some kept their distance and watched from afar.
The music hit a beat and the crew jeered as a body rose from the table. Garrus could feel the blood drain from his face as he realized who it was.
Her hair draped down in dark waves past her shoulders- she was in a black sports bra, and hopefully pants. The dancing was susprising because she moved fluidly with the beat of the music. It was methodical and sensual in nature. So, she could dance- and quite well.
Yet, the whole scene made him angry.
If he could have turned red in the face- he would have.
A shot rang out into the air and the festivities came to a shrieking hault. The whole deck went alert in a matter of seconds. Garrus popped the used clip out of his pistol. Every eye in the room was on him.
"If any of you have a will to live, I suggest you leave."
The growl in his throat wasn't enough to get them moving. He lurched forward threateningly and raised his voice.
"Now!"
With his point finally across- the room bustled as everyone cleared out. The crew pushed and shoved each other into their quarters and down hallways. Garrus stood his ground until the room was secure.
He holstered his gun and marched over to the woman on the table. The area was covered in alcohol spills, metal cups, and empty bottles.
Shepard's cargo pants were soiled with alcohol and the rest of her reaked of it.
She was snorting to herself with her hands on her belly- muttering incoherently.
He sighed at the sight of her drunkenness. He had never expected such unruly behavior from her. He knew she usually sipped a single drink for hours. He just wished he could know exactly what was going on in her head. He wanted to understand.
He couldn't imagine why her shirt was on the floor- many feet away from the table.
She hated exposing her scars.
Evidently, something was bothering her, and her usual coping mechanisms were no longer effective. The problem was that getting her to talk about it would be like trying to convince a Vorcha that going to a speech pathologist might be a good idea.
If he had to wait until she was ready- he would do it, granted it wouldn't take too long.
As he gathered Thalassa up into his arms Dr. Chakwas emerged from the medbay. He turned to face her- unsure of how to handle all of this. He was still trying to maintain his composure.
"What the hell happened?"
Chakwas appeared incredulous. She had been powerless to stop the events. The disappointment and worry was evident in her body language.
"She got pulled into a celebration that the crew was having. I knew she had a hard time connecting with them. So, when they seemed to welcome her how could I have peeled her away? Everything was fine. They were arm wrestling and having a good time for a while- until the alcohol began to affect Shepard. She started dancing a few minutes ago. I tried to put an end to it, but no one would listen. I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't be of more help."
Garrus glanced down at Shepard who was now semi- passed out in his arms.
"This wasn't your fault, Karin. I'm going to get her squared away. I will come see you in a few"
He walked to their quarters and was startled by Shepard's sudden jolting-
"T-tlot. Toilet!"
She warned and Garrus hustled into the bathroom. He set her down near the toilet and helped prop her up- deftly tying her hair up into a messy bun before the barage of bodily fluids.
He eventually sat down behind her, propping himself against the wall and steadying her when she couldn't keep her balance.
She leaned back against him- still half awake. The universe blurred into the background for a time. It was just the two of them in quiet serenity, spare the occasional toilet flush and Shepard's hiccups.
Before long Garrus heard her breaths become ragged, the party was over. Thalassa came crashing down back to reality. Her shoulders tense and unyielding.
"I'm sorry."
Silent tears streamed down her face, red eyes briefly meeting his own. The facade of strength she had established fell away- even if it was only for a moment.
Garrus ran his talons through her hair in an attempt to soothe her.
"What are you sorry for?"
She let out was a sigh and she curled up on her side against him. She never responded to his inquiry, but he didn't press.
An hour had gone by before she was asleep. He left her in bed before visiting the med bay to get hangover reducers from Chakwas.
When he returned to their room- his mind churned, breaking down the situation and trying to find a solution.
Shepard needed friends. She needed people who would be there for her even when he couldn't.
He planned on keeping her around, and they would always be inseparable; however, it was clear to him how devastated she truly was.
She lost her world.
She lost her friends.
She lost her family.
She lost her job.
She lost her physical and mental wellness.
These crises required a delicate knowledge of how to handle her strong personality.