Yeah, so I haven't written for a few days. That is because I had watch the crap with telltale uncurl. And one of my favourite series is The Walking Dead. Wasn't exactly in the mood to write and more of in the mood to sulk, but i'm writing again, so hey, there's that.
(– 0 –)
(John Shepard – Citadel – Hospital Ward)
- 2 Weeks Later -
The first thing he was able to simply register was pain. An all encompassing pain that tore through his body like an electrical fire, threatening to shut his brain down again from the sensation of burning. He could barely move – he realised – though with how much it hurt to move his head to the side gave him more than enough reason not to utilise it. It felt like his skin was being pressed down on him, acting like a latex suit around his body and all he could see was a side table. A side table that was almost overflowing with used up rolls of what he assumed were bandages (it explained that tightness,) balm, paste and other such supplies.
Fear shot its way up his spine at that moment. Everything was coming back to him. The Normandy's collapse, the unknown attackers, the drive core… The plasma…
With a loud groan he lifted his head up, his muscles straining to their limit to accomplish the simple task making him grimace. His eyes raked across his body, even though he couldn't see anything he knew there had to be bad burns underneath all of the bandaging. Though that was okay, he didn't want to know just now. Thankfully, the dimness of the lighting here was enough to not allow him to make any detail out either.
Suddenly, his head went limp and fell back onto the pillow with a thud, bringing his banged up head down with a tiny yelp escaping his rough and raw throat. He winced, trying not to moan from the pain, for some reason his throat was more hoarse than it should be.
'Oh god… this really hurts… feels like I just stepped into the drive core.' John tried to look around further before realising the futility of it all, his neck was just too weak, he couldn't even support his own head. Like a baby no older than a few weeks old. An embarrassingly uncomfortable situation to be in.
With his body – to his assessment – being incapacitated the only thing for his mind to do was wander. He thought about his friends and crew from the Normandy itself, where they were now, if they were okay. He hoped, he hoped to high heaven that his sister was alive, the altruistic side of her wouldn't have let anyone be left behind and Joker seemed to be controlling the ship when they were trying to fix the engine. His thoughts also went to Garrus and what could possibly be doing now, he never liked working for C-sec and the destruction of the Normandy signified their end to the SPECTRE lifestlye. He would miss that and he knew that Garrus would mourn it to.
Finally, his mind focussed around Tali…
'I couldn't have just told her, could I… I just had to bury my head in the fucking sand...'
He knew about her affections, he had for a while. He knew that his sister likely teased him when he wasn't around to defend his honour. The only thing he couldn't understand about the entire thing was why Tali would want anything to do with him. He was a washed up, broken old soldier with the future that was only marginally better than Omega scum. He was a 26 year old Section 6 cast off. But he was happy, happy that someone could still see the man beneath the scars and trauma, he guessed that it was due to how Quarians had to grow up with those suits was how she connected to him in some way. But even his sister had become different around him, not treating him like the capable soldier he used to be. The things they fought weren't scarring for him, nothing was worse than Thresher Maw ambushes.
He hoped that she was okay, that she had made it through the ordeal, he couldn't bare to think of the alternative. The life drained from his body, thinking about that kind of future, the galaxy had enough shitty people in it, the last thing needed was for the good ones to die sooner.
A sudden hiss broke through the silence he hadn't realised was there, he looked over to the entrance and suddenly smiled, thought he pain hurt, he didn't care…
"Hey, John..." Garrus started, he seemed… mournful…
But it was then he saw his eyes staring at him he suddenly lost that look and smiled through his mandibles.
"About time you woke up. Enjoy your nap?" He teased, though John noticed how forced it sounded and frowned a little.
"Water..." He croaked, causing the Turian to swear a little before pulling out the most beautiful thing John could ever see.
"Ahh, I know you're having trouble using those weird five fingered hands of yours, Shepard, so I'll have to be your nurse for today..." He chuckled, but again it sounded like he was trying to be happy. Though he made good on his statement, bringing the bottle to his lips and tipping a little of its contents into his mouth…
John couldn't believe this, unable to even move properly and relying on his best friend to give him some fucking water. Garrus would probably hold this over him for days when they both got back into C-sec… If they were allowed back into C-sec.
The cooling, soothing liquid streamed down his throat, giving him that much needed moisture his voice desperately needed. Within seconds, he felt that nasty itchiness faded and his throat no longer felt parched to hell…
"Thanks..." He breathed, wincing at the croak his voice still held. The water should have taken that away along with the dryness. "I… needed that."
"I'm sure you did, John..." Garrus went silent after that, like he was thinking of what he could say. It did make Joh smile a little, His Turian friend wasn't ever any good with the heart to heart talks and probably never would be. But his solemn expression never left, if anything, to John it just felt more thick than it was before he came in here.
Something was troubling him greatly…
"What's… What's wrong, Garrus?" The question seemed innocent enough, but it was likely anything but. Garrus only looked further down into his hand and sighed. His entire body looked as if it would collapse in on itself in Johns opinion, there was a tension that permeated the Turian's frame, making him shake slightly. It was like he was trying to keep tonnes of weight on his shoulders without rest.
John found himself tensing too, trying to ignore the pain and uncomfortable worry settling In his stomach.
"Garrus, what's wrong?"
Garrus sighed. "John… Jane's- Damn it, Jane's dead." His face set in stone, as if he was re-living the event in question. "She was spaced near the Normandy's cockpit. Joker's alive."
John just laid there, looking at Garrus, his words barely registering and still being digested. His mind racing at the implications of the concept that what he had just been told. He only just realised that his body was strangely painful all over, like the burns were intensifying to an unbearable point.
"Jane?" He wanted it to be wrong. Some sick joke that Garrus was playing on him, at least then he'd have an outlet. But at his best friends solemn nod…
"My little sister… No… Oh god, no!" Sudden violent coughs erupted from his throat, little flecks of blood marking the pristine white sheets in front of him, but he didn't care. He was in pain, his own volume surprised him almost as much as the pain that followed. He was aware of Garrus' flinch and sudden cussing, bolting out of the room to get a doctor probably.
John tried to breath, but the pain kept the tickling coming back to bring forth another awful bout of fitful coughing, more little drops of blood and more pain in his heart only kept him more distracted.
She couldn't be dead, it wasn't possible, she had survived the fucking Skyllian Blitz, for fuck sake! His little sister, who gave him strength when he had none left, after Akuze when he watched his men, his friends get torn apart and liquefied by a pack of Thresher Maws. The same sister who managed to chase down and defeat Saren, the legendary spectre…
She was the only family that he had left… And now, even she was dead…
He was alone… so completely, hopelessly alone…
"Hold still! This'll make you feel better." A voice came from his front, but he didn't bother looking up, this was what he wanted.
"No…" Another violent rumble stopped him form carrying on. "Please!"
But before he knew it, a calming feeling rushed through his body, soothing his veins, taking the tickling away… making his eyes heavier as those small seconds went by…
No, this isn't what he wanted, he didn't want dreams, he didn't want life, knowing what was not waiting for him on the other side.
"It's okay John, you'll feel better when you wake up." Garrus tried to reassure him, but John could only smiled wanly. His vision going completely black as he did so, causing him to lose the strength to even maintain it.
No he wouldn't…
(– 0 –)
(Garrus Vakarian – Citadel – Citadel Tower)
– 1 Week Later –
"Damn it!" His dual-toned voice rang out from his apartment, causing him to get several bangs back in return, all telling him to keep the noise down. All complaints barely registered with him, only just keeping him from punching his wall as if the wall itself was Saleon.
Looking around his cramped, dusty space he noticed the comfy couch to the far end of the living quarters. It called to him, enticing him with its softness, and Garrus was feeling so tired after everything.
The media hadn't stopped hounding them until recently, and they'd probably try again now that word of the funeral had likely gotten out. There was no way that anyone could keep it down, especially with how much Sparatus seemed to enjoy getting back at Jane. There was one time he'd been cornered by Jalahni after a few rounds with the Asari News Network and Palaven Interstellar News, he had been emotional and when he got emotional, his go to method of dealing with it was to transfer that to anger… It was the Turian way, hold your head up high, use you emotions, channel it into strength or throw it away.
In short, he had given the reporter a nasty bruise via a hard right hook. He remembered watching John spar with his sister in that human fighting style – Boxing, he believed John called it – and how he described it as the best punching fighting style. John had used others, he couldn't remember all of them, but John constantly talked about one called Maui-Thai and another two named Teakwondo and Capoeira. But he only ever saw the benefit for him in Boxing and took the challenge of making his punches better… And Jalahni felt the full brunt of that.
He remembered when Tali had been found by The Citadel Times and almost broke down in the process of their… invasive questions, regarding John and Jane Shepard. He hadn't felt so outraged before, his friend was suffering loss on two fronts (in a way) and the news only cared about what they could use to get viewers...
H
His mind brought him back to when John talked about Earth's news media before they got into space and how he'd read up on the history of how it was used. How Earth's media always had an agenda, global control in ways that made him feel sick and others in ways that made him laugh out loud.
He didn't know when, but he had ended up sitting on his couch, slumped over a PDA in his talons. He wanted to find something on the matter, see If he had missed anything that was said and how people were interpreting the things that were said. He felt shame whenever he found a comment on how he and the other crew members didn't say anything, anger when he found memes of Jane Shepard with cartoon dead eyes with white captions saying 'Reapers did it' and small satisfaction in seeing the majority of the world chew the councillors out for the cold and dishonourable way they treated Jane. It was the one time he'd seen Turians and Humans agree on the same thing.
But whilst skimming through the articles, he found an article from the news media 'Battlespace' where the councillors were standing in the presidium tower. It was clearly a few moments after the funeral as they were all dressed in the black garb. It had been posted merely minutes ago and he was suddenly curious about the article, that was until the title of the article came up…
When his eyes laid themselves upon it, his rage came back full force…
Posthumous Denial: Citadel Council dismisses famous 'Reapers' allegation from Jane Shepard!
He shot up instantly, hot breath leaving him in huge growls as he stormed out of his apartment and towards the human embassy…
He had a few words to say to the new council member…
And they were not going to be kind…
(– 0 –)
(Tali'Zorah – Far Rim – Dholen)
She made sure to download as much of the Geth Information as she could onto hardrives as a back-up, dedicating the entire trip through the galaxy to that particular task. If she didn't then she'd begin to cry anew and this time she wouldn't be able to tell it apart from her grief and all pervading shame she felt at leaving this early on. The last time John would see her before her departure was back in that engine room, handling responsibilities she failed to complete in time. Responsibilities that would leave him with a terrible fate for the rest of his short life... and she couldn't bare watch him degrade over that time. Shambling from one place to another, in constant, near paralysing pain just from merely moving, traumatised and mourning. That was not the image she wanted of him, not the fate she wanted for him.
The only comfort was that she had managed to keep everyone's E-mail addresses. Garrus been thoughtful enough to supply everyone with those particular modes of communication so they could all keep in touch. He was probably in worse shape than her, emotionally. John had been his best friend and a brother to him, a partner in crime with the same steel in his eyes at the sight of injustice.
He had been so upset when she said her goodbyes...
"You're leaving?... Now, of all times?" He asked incredulously, his harmonic voice deep and rumbling as he frowned at her.
"I-I have to get the data to my people, Garrus." She winced at the response, that was weak, even for her. She noticed how his talons curled into fists, shaking just ever so slightly and tried to placate the grief-filled Turian. "I can't... I can't be here any longer than i already have, i'm sorry!"
"No, it's fine... I get it." He growled back, making her insides twist. "You're abandoning us, abandoning him! I get what this is so you don't have to tell me."
He was so angry...
Guilt crashed through her veins at that point in time, but it also gave way to anger. Why couldn't he just understand that she couldn't be there? That trying to outlast what she felt was slowly killing her? Was it his own Turian pride that prevented him from realising what this was doing to her?
"Don't put that on me, you Bos'tet!" She warned, surprising herself with how fast the anger came. "You can lie to yourself all you like, but i know that being here, watching John... Watching John slowly wilt away whilst knowing what happened to his sister. It's too much for me, i can't watch him die like this!"
"That isn't a guarantee!"
"It is!" She almost yelled in his face, losing most restraint as she started shaking. Feeling the want to break down right then and there. "You can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me and expect me to stay silent! In... In two years, John will be dead. In two years, the man i love will no longer be alive. So i'm making the decision to remove that pain from him and from me... No matter how much it hurts."
She had stormed past him at that point, barely catching his surprise. She wanted to feel satisfaction from finally shocking him, but know that it would be the last time she ever saw him again dissolved that desire almost immediately.
So there she was, a lone Quarian with no one but precious data and and her own grief to keep her company. Only an hour into her decision and she already hated herself and everything she had done.
But what was done was done. And she would have duties to the migrant fleet very soon, the migrant fleet, form where she would probably never move away from again...
It couldn't be that bad, she wouldn't be subject to the pain that she was now.
(– 0 –)
I apologise this took so long.
But I hope you enjoyed it, eitherway.
