The Vakarians

Garrus stared at the door of his childhood home in silence. He hadn't yet brought himself to knock, but he knew his father would've already received the security feed alert. Which meant Dad watched while he sweated it out, standing on the porch and working up his nerve.

"Are you sure you want me here for this?" Dawn asked, drawing his attention.

He chuffed, fluttering his mandibles. A part of him wanted nothing more than to scoop her up into his arms and carry her back to the Normandy. They could hide out on the ship until morning, and then after they cleared the temple and the retrofits were done, they could leave Palaven behind. His mother and sister didn't have to know how much of a coward he truly was, and he knew his dad wouldn't break their hearts by telling them he'd fled without even knocking. He'd known half his life how much of a disappointment he was to his father, anyway, so what did it really matter?

"If you leave, I'm leaving, too." As much as the words were meant to be a joke, there was a seriousness to his voice he couldn't quite shake, and it burned his ears in shame.

"'You go, I go', huh?" She bumped his shoulder with her own. "God, Garrus, we're here to see your family, not heading into another suicide mission."

Chuffing, he turned his attention back to the door. Letting the sarcasm drip from his tongue, he said, "You've never met my father." Taking a deep breath, he held it a moment before letting it rush back out. "He's not going to like you, you know."

"I know; he has a thing against Spectres. Probably even more so when said Spectre is sleeping with his son and leading him further astray." She lifted both shoulders, pulling them up high and tight when he looked at her again. "And I don't care." She let her shoulders drop and watched him from behind her visor—he couldn't see her eyes, but he felt them tracking his movements, her gaze so familiar to him, he'd feel it no matter what. "I'm not here to win his favor. I'm here to support you." She nudged him again. "And maybe get a few, juicy stories about all the asinine things you did as a kid to use against you later," she said, not a single change in her voice.

He chuckled. Spirits, he loved her more than life itself. "Do me a favor?" he asked, turning his focus back to the door.

"Anything," she said, voice softer, reassuring.

"Don't believe a word Sol says." Smiling over the sound of her laughter, he lifted his hand to knock, but the door opened before he made contact.

"Alternatively, you can believe everything I say." Stepping out onto the porch, his sister threw her arms around him, squeezing tight. "It's good to finally see you, Garrus."

Unexpectedly overcome with the scent of his sister, it tore from him a purr so loud it stuttered in his chest before shifting into a solid, steady rumble. He returned her hug, pulling her off her feet as he held her close and bumped the side of her head with his own. Several seconds passed before he regained his composure and set her back on her feet, holding her at arms length to give her a once over.

"I've missed you, kid. You look good." Grinning so wide, it sort of hurt his face, he shook his head and asked, "How've you been? Wait, were you eavesdropping at the door this whole time? Just waiting for the perfect moment to make your big reveal?" So much for running away without Sol knowing.

"Solana, let your brother inside." Their mother's voice trickled out of the door to meet his ears, both a balm and a fresh wound to his soul. "He's brought company; you're being rude."

Sol chuffed, dropping her arms and glancing past him. She eyed Dawn a moment, almost as if she actually saw the woman behind the UV shielding. Turning her attention back to Garrus, she fluttered her mandibles. "I'm still breathing, and it's good to see you are, too." She reached up and carefully traced one of the still healing scars along his jaw and throat with her bare talon while frowning. "Come on," she said, shifting to the side and throwing her arm out at the door, "before Mom forgets I'm an adult, again, and tries to ground me for not listening the first time."

"Sol," Garrus kept his voice low despite the rumble of disapproval.

"I heard that, Solana Vakarian." His mother appeared in the doorway leading to the sitting room as Garrus stepped over the threshold. "My ears still work just fine, you know." She smiled, mandibles flaring wide when her gaze latched onto him. "Garrus," she said, her voice softening as she held her arms out toward him.

His throat spasmed, a keen rolling through his subvocals. "Mom." Moving past his sister, he strolled down the foyer and wrapped his arms around his mother, tucking his head down into the crook of her neck and cowl, breathing her scent deep into his lungs. He held her as tight as he dared, not wanting to hurt her, but she squeezed him twice as hard.

"He's so rude," Sol said with a scoff. "Please, come inside, Commander. You can take off your helmet as soon as the door's closed."

"Thank you," Dawn said, and then a moment later, the foyer darkened, but Garrus still didn't look up.

The clearing of his father's throat broke the magic spell of the moment. Garrus pulled back from the safety of his mother's embrace and followed the sound until he spotted his father in the doorway to his study. Standing up straight, Garrus tucked his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. "Dad, it's good to see you."

Moving out of the doorway, his father extended a hand but came no closer, making Garrus cover the rest of the ground to greet him formally. "It's good to see you, too, son." He shook Garrus' hand, enveloping it in both of his before squeezing. "Now," he said, subvocals teasing despite the gruffness, "are you going to introduce us to your guest, or is your sister right? Did we raise you to be rude?"

"Of course not, sorry." Dropping his dad's hand, Garrus flicked his mandibles and turned. Holding his hand out, he crooked his fingers at Dawn, urging her closer even as he and his father moved to meet her halfway. "Shepard, please meet my father, Castis."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Dawn held out her hand, and to Garru's relief, his father didn't hesitate to accept the gesture.

"Likewise, Commander." Dad released her hand and then tucked his own behind his back.

Garrus put his arm around his mother's shoulders, feeling the need to help support her weight even though she appeared to be moving around just fine on her own. That and, well, he just didn't want to let her go in the first place. "Mom, this is Commander Shepard. She's who I've been working with since I left C-Sec. Well … at least a good portion of the time." He glanced away from his mom to meet Dawn's gaze, and her soft smile overflowed with so much love, it almost hurt to look at. "Shepard, this is my mother, Treena."

"I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you, Mrs. Vakarian," Dawn said, moving closer and offering her hand. "Your son is so very important to me, and the success of my missions. I wouldn't trade him for anyone. You've raised a good man, ma'am."

Raising a hand to pat Dawn's face, his mother chuffed. "Flattery won't keep you out of trouble, Julietta. You know your aunt wanted you home before the night cycle started."

Garrus' heart wrenched and his guts twisted. He knew her moments of clarity didn't last long, but he'd hoped they'd at least get the introductions out of the way before he lost her again.

"No, Mom," Sol said, moving to stand at Dawn's side. "This is Commander Shepard, the human Spectre that Garrus has been working with. We watched her on the news, remember?"

Confusion and agitation rolled off of his mother in thick, choking waves, ripping Garrus' fractured heart into tiny shreds. "What?" she asked, looking between Sol and Dawn. "What in the world are you talking about?"

"Spectre Commander Shepard. Spirits, Mom. She isn't Julietta. We haven't seen Julietta in nearly seventeen cycles." The whine in Sol's voice only seemed to further agitate their mother, but the sound stomped all over the remnants of Garrus' heart, grounding the bits and pieces into the floor beneath her feet. "Can't you smell Garrus on her?"

"Sol!" Garrus let out a low, threatening growl, but he only rolled her eyes. "Too far."

"Enough, Solana." Dad chuffed, mandibles flicking with his irritation despite the rest of his face remaining a solid, emotionless mask.

"Hey, it's okay." Dawn said, looking between the four of them before settling her gaze on his mother. She smiled, pitching her voice low, conspiratorial, as she said, "Sometimes I can't remember who I am, either."

Spirits.

Garrus prayed his father and sister didn't pick up on the fact that nothing in Dawn's scent or tone changed as she spoke. Or, if they did, they just assumed she was a damn good liar. Which, as he knew all too well, she was. But … it seemed to do the trick. His mother smiled and patted Dawn's face again.

"Your face has so much give." Mom let out a soft titter before turning her head to smile at Dad, mandibles flared as wide as they'd go as she continued to cup Dawn's face. "Castis, look at this child's plump, rosy cheeks. Aren't humans adorable?"

Dad chuckled and smiled, his eyes softening the way they did for no one but Treena Vakarian. And maybe sometimes Sol, at least when she was still little and less of a pain in the ass. He nudged Garrus aside, taking his place next to Mom and started to lead her into the living room. Dawn grinned and squeezed Mom's other hand before letting it go again, but Mom kept her gaze on Dawn until she was forced to turn away.

Looking over to Sol, Dawn held her hand out again. "He calls you Sol," she said, tipping her head toward Garrus, "but your parents call you Solana. Which do you prefer?"

Sol smiled and shook Dawn's hand. "It doesn't really matter. Sorry, I didn't mean to be so crass just then …. It—it gets hard sometimes, especially with new people. It's nice to meet you, Shepard."

"You, too, Sol." Dawn shifted her weight to one hip and smiled up at Garrus before turning her attention back to his sister. "And don't worry about it, it's not even the worst thing I've heard today."

Garrus chuckled, reaching out to push a lock of hair behind her ear. She was so much more than he deserved. The patience and gentleness he showed his mother … Spirits.

"Thank you, for your kindness." Sol fluttered her mandibles, turning her attention to Garrus. "How long will you be staying? I don't think we have anything levo here, but I can run to the store or have something delivered."

"Uh … hmmm." Garrus turned his attention to Dawn, looking to her for the answer. He really didn't know how long he wanted to stay, but more importantly, he didn't know how long she'd want to stay. He chuffed when she only shrugged. "Let's just see how things go," he said, turning his attention back to Sol but ignoring her frown. "I'll have something delivered for dinner. Hell, I can order dinner for the whole family, so no one has to cook or clean up."

Sol shrugged. "Whatever."

"So," Dawn cleared her throat and grinned at Sol, "about those childhood stories …."

"Spirits." Garrus sighed.

~69696969~

Shepard stood looking out of the kitchen window, taking in the points of light peppering the darkness, spilling from the windows of other homes, skycars coming and going, and the flashing signs of the few businesses near the residential area. Night was quiet on Palaven. Not as quiet as it'd been on Rannoch, granted, but still quiet. Peaceful. Enough to make her almost think for just a second or two that everything was right in the galaxy.

"Almost," Jane agreed.

She hadn't been as talkative since Shepard let her take control for a couple or days. It wasn't that Jane wasn't still there, still listening and interacting, but more like she just wasn't as restless. And, Jane handled things really, really well in the driver's seat. Shepard was proud of Jane, of the progress she'd made and all the crap she'd overcome since the Lazarus Project. To Shepard, it felt like she'd re-secured an alliance between them, and maybe even managed to make a friend out of Jane.

"Aw." Amusement flooded the link between Shepard and Jane, but despite Jane's efforts, Shepard picked up the undertone of Jane's agreement with the sentiment. "Anytime you want me to take over, buddy, just say the word."

Shepard huffed, the sound more felt than heard as the air rolled across her sinus passage. Their attention refocused on the stillness of things beyond the kitchen window. A big part of her wanted nothing more than to go outside and stretch out on the ground, breathe in the fresh air, feel the grass prickle against her skin, and stare up at the stars and Palaven's moons while listening to the wind move through the trees. Even at night, though, it wasn't safe for her to go outdoors without their suit. It just looked so damn tranquil out there, like a whispered promise of peace and safety waiting to cradle them and lull them to sleep.

But it wasn't safe, not really, and they knew it wasn't just to do with Palaven's radiation levels. The reapers were coming closer and closer by the second, and she still didn't have any real, solid plan on how to stop them that didn't involve the Crucible. And the longer she waited to come up with another plan, opportunities to test out options would come far and few between because they'd be too busy flying from one horror to the next, trying to save just one more life, evacuate just one more colony … or locate just one more stupid, cultural artifact because one diplomat or another believed it held the answer to turn the tide of the war.

"They do help, though." Jane said, the voice of reason. "Not much, but every little bit counts."

"I know," Shepard thought in return before letting the amalgamation sweep over her in the hopes that they'd work through their anxieties and then she'd be able to regain a firmer control more quickly.

Hell, they were scheduled to meet Fedorian outside of the quarantine area of the ruins of Temple Palaven first thing in the morning. He was expecting them to have some big plan, some solution to save his people; not just from the Arca Monolith, but the reapers, too. They had squat. If orbital strikes did nothing but bury the damn thing, how the hell were they supposed to destroy the monolith? Maybe they just needed a more precise, targeted strike. They'd have to figure out the exact position of the reaper artifact, first.

They couldn't say why, exactly, but tears welled up in their eyes as they looked out of the window, spilling down over their cheeks before they sniffed and wiped them away. Garrus' voice drifted to them from the living room, followed a moment later by Treena and Castis', but they couldn't quite make out anything specific. It didn't matter, a part of why they lingered in the kitchen in the first place was to give the family some space. Clearly, the Vakarians had a lot to work through. Still, they liked watching Garrus with his family, seeing a side of the man they never really saw before. And Sol was hilarious. Castis, well, most of them didn't much care for Castis, but it was obvious how much the man loved his family, including Garrus. Even if he did take more little potshots than strictly necessary.

A soft chuff startled them, and they gasped, head jerking around to locate the intruder. Sol stood in the kitchen doorway, two mugs in her hands, but she looked frozen in place as surely as if she'd been hit with a Cryo Blast. Her mandibles petrified just beyond the reach of her jaws, and one foot apparently forgot how to find the ground mid-stride.

Shepard sniffed, slapping a smile on her face and scrubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand and wrist. "Sorry," she muttered, moving away from the sink, "am I in your way?" She wiped her face again and took a slow, steady breath.

Hesitantly, Sol started walking again, carrying the cups to the sink where she set them down in the basin. "Is … is everything alright? Should I get Garrus for you?" she asked, her voice pitched low.

"God no," Shepard whispered with a soft snort. "He already worries over me worse than my own mother ever did."

Sol grinned and flicked her mandibles. "You should've seen him when we were children. I swear he thought Mom and Dad brought me home from the hospital for him to look after." Turning on the water, she began washing the mugs. "He stopped liking me so much right around the time all of his friends started liking me, though."

"Let me guess." Shepard raised an eyebrow. "He started getting into fights with the boys, trying to chase them away from you?"

"What?" Sol's brow plates dipped low, mandibles fluttering. "No. Why would he do that? Wait, is that a human thing?"

Shepard laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"No, he didn't get into fights with them." Sol glanced up from the dishes to take in Shepard's face for a moment. "He started getting into fights with me." She tapped a wet talon against her keel. "He was jealous because he wanted their attention, but I knew they wouldn't give it to him if I was around. So, whenever his friends came to the house, I invited myself into the group. He hated it."

Jane laughed, her amusement bringing a grin to Shepard's face. "I like her."

"Me, too," Shepard thought.

"That's because you always convinced them to play the stupidest games," Garrus said, drawing their attention to the doorway. He had more mugs in his hands, and a concerned cast to his eyes as he looked over Shepard, nose plates twitching—probably registering the smell of her tears in the air.

"That was half the fun, brother." Sol grinned as he crossed the floor, and she held her hand out for the mugs. "Seeing just how ridiculously I could make them behave in the hopes I might favor one or the other of them."

Garrus chuffed, and Shepard chuckled. He passed the cups to his sister before turning his attention to Shepard. He didn't ask what was wrong, even though she knew he wanted to, instead he just reached up and used a knuckle to brush away the residual wetness beneath her eyes before leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

"So adorable," Sol said and then let out an oomph of air followed by a chuckle when Garrus elbowed her in the ribs.

He turned and tugged on the back edge of her mandible. "Be nice, or I'll tell her about the time you found out your little friend on the Citadel had a dextro allergy."

Growling, she swatted his hand away. "Shut up, Garrus." She used her other hand to flick water in his direction. "It didn't happen that way, and you know it!"

"Keep telling yourself that." Grabbing a hand towel off the counter, he lobbed it at his sister's head as he backed out of the kitchen.

Shepard reached out, grabbing the towel as it rebounded and started falling toward the floor. Leaning her hip against the counter, she absently folded the towel. Sol's mandibles flicked and her jaw clenched a few times before finally relaxing. They both remained silent as Sol finished with the mugs and turned them upside down on a mat next to the sink. She accepted the towel from Shepard and dried her hands before using it to mop up stray droplets along the edge of the sink.

"Are you coming?" Sol asked as she started to turn toward the living room, dropping the towel back on the counter.

Glancing out of the window one last time, Shepard swallowed against the knot of inexplicable sadness forming in her throat again and nodded. "Yeah," she said, pushing off the counter to follow the other woman.

"I think you're sad because you miss your family," Jane offered, voice soft and compassionate, "and maybe because you're afraid this will be the last chance Garrus gets to spend any time with his, too."

"Castis," Treena's voice reached Shepard a few steps into the hall. "Where did that lovely human go? She has the most beautiful eyes."

Sol snickered, glancing over her shoulder. "They are pretty."

"Thanks." Cheeks heating a little, Shepard pushed the self-conscious feeling aside and instead thought about what Jane said. The idea felt right, so she gave Jane a mental nod and swallowed again.

"She's coming now, dear." Castis hummed, looking up to meet Shepard's gaze as she rounded the corner. "See? Here she is." He waved a hand toward Shepard and Sol.

"That's not Julietta." Treena's mandibles flared, brow plates dipping for a moment before shooting back up as if she'd had some great revelation. "Oh! Of course, Commander Shepard. How silly of me. Please, come, have a seat. Garrus, go fetch the commander something to eat." Turning her gaze back to Shepard, she added. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm afraid I don't keep levo foods in the larder."

"We just finished dinner a couple of hours ago, Mom," Sol said, taking a seat next to her mother.

"Nonsense." Treena glared at her daughter a moment before looking back at her son. "Garrus? Go on now, do as you're told."

The pain and helplessness in Garrus' eyes tore at the amalgamation, nearly sending them into a spiral. They cleared their throat and smiled. "Oh, no. Mrs. Vakarian, please. I appreciate the offer, but I'm not at all hungry at the moment." She chuckled, sitting down within reach of Garrus, letting him decide whether or not to make contact. Something relaxed inside of her when he took her hand. "Give me another hour or so, though, and I'm sure I can manage, if you insist." She grinned, earring her a chuckle from the older woman.

"I wonder what she was like before the Corpalis Syndrome." Jane hummed, sounding a little sad herself.

Shepard was curious, too, but she knew if she spent much time with the thought just then, she'd probably start to cry again. Jane eased back, not fully retreating, but creating a little more space between her and Shepard's mind.

"Will you be spending the night?" Treena asked, gaze shifting between Shepard and Garrus.

Glancing at Garrus, she found him watching her, the pain evaporated from his gaze and something akin to awe taking its place. She smiled before turning her attention back to Treena. "I think we will, if that's alright with you, ma'am."

"Well, of course it is." Treena started to push herself to the edge of her chair. "I'll go make up the guest room."

Sol snickered, and Garrus chuffed. His fingers tightened on Shepard's as if the mere idea of her sleeping in the guest room was unbearable.

"I think she'll be more comfortable staying with Garrus, dear," Castis said, avoiding both Shepard and Garrus' gaze.

"Oh?" Treena paused on her way up, her tone quizzical before her brow plates quirked. "Oh. Right, of course. Well, then I'll go make up his room. It's been years since anyone's slept in there, they'll want clean linens."

"You don't have to do that, Mom." Garrus hummed, standing and heading her off before she reached the stairs. "I remember where the linens are. I can take care of it," he said, but Treena just kept right on. He let out a soft, distressed whine, and glanced down at his father.

Castis fluttered his mandibles and waved a hand at Garrus. "Sit down, son," he said, watching his wife ascend the stairs. "These things help center her."

Opening his omni-tool, Castis ran his fingers over the interface and then forwarded it to the vid screen mounted on the wall. A security feed appeared, the screen split into several, small windows into the common areas of the house. Treena appeared on the stairs in one of the feeds and made her way down a hall. Everyone watched in silence until Sol cleared her throat and stood.

"I'm going to go help." She looked down at her father before her gaze slid to Garrus and back again. "I'm sure the three of you have things to discuss you don't really want her to hear," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "so I'll help her get ready for bed after."

"Thank you, Solana." Castis closed the security feed and nodded to his daughter. "Tell you mother she needn't stay awake waiting for me, and I'll make sure she knows I'm there when I come to bed."

"Goodnight, Dad." Sol edged around the coffee table to lean down and press her forehead against her father's for a moment. She straightened and turned her attention to Garrus and Shepard. "Goodnight. Find me in the morning, Shepard," she said, a smirk lifting her mouth plates, "and I'll tell you all about Garrus' first girlfriend."

Shepard chuckled, squeezing Garrus' hand when he chuffed and groaned. "Sounds like one I won't want to miss. Night, Sol."

"Join me in my study," Castis said as he stood, and something about his tone said it wasn't really a request.

"Joy," Jane said.

~69696969~

"The new treatments aren't helping as much as I'd hoped." Garrus sat in one of the high-backed chairs situated next to the fireplace. The glass of brandy in his hand remained untouched. He knew if he started drinking with everything else tugging his heart and mind in a million different directions, he'd just keep at it until he was too drunk to see straight, let alone keep clear in his mind what he should or shouldn't say to his father. Still, it beckoned to him, the phantom burn of the liquid sliding down his throat dried his mouth, and he swallowed.

"Give it time." Dad took a sip from his own glass. "She just barely finished the first round, and there are several more to go." He sat back, lifting an ankle up to rest it on the opposite knee.

Something about his father's gaze as he shifted to look at Shepard made Garrus' gizzard knot up. It hit Garrus all at once, the familiarity of the expression, the body language. Garrus wasn't looking at Dad anymore, oh no, he was looking at Senior Enforcement Office Vakarian. Garrus suppressed a growl, but the sigh slipped out anyway.

"So, Commander," Dad said, shifting a little as he settled in more comfortably, "what business brings a Spectre to Palaven. I'm sure you're not here just so that my son and daughter can torment one another for a few hours. Not that we're not happy to have the both of you here, of course. Spending time with Garrus means a lot to Treena. To all of us."

"Dad …." Garrus adjusted his grip on the glass, thinking maybe a drink or two wasn't such a bad idea. "Don't start." He glanced at Dawn, finding her 'commander mask'—as she called it—firmly in place, leaving her eyes unreadable. "I just want us to have one night of peace before the galaxy turns completely upside down. We're here now because I missed all of you, and I wanted to introduce the woman I love to my family, that's it. Can't you just be happy I have that and wanted to share it with you?"

Flicking his mandibles, the indignation rang clear in his father's subvocals as he said, "Of course I'm happy for you, Garrus. Nevertheless, you brought a Spectre into my home, on the eve of galactic war, and you expect me to not ask any questions?"

"I expect you not to interrogate her or treat her like a suspect just because she's a Spectre." Garrus let out a low, barely audible growl, his frustration starting to get the better of him. "She's not here right now as a Spectre, regardless of what brought us to Palaven."

"You'll have to forgive my son, Commander." Dad straightened his spine, a condescending smile lifting his mouth plates as he glanced at Shepard. "It appears he's forgotten how a man is supposed to speak to his father."

"No …." Dawn shook her head, holding her palms out toward him. "Don't try to drag me into the middle of this lifelong feud thing the two of you have going on. Trust me, you don't want to hear my opinion on the matter, and he," she said, pointing at Garrus, "still respects you enough to not want me to give it to you, either."

Garrus stared, dumbstruck with his mandibles hanging slack for a moment. He didn't know what shocked him more: the fact his dad actually tried to garner sympathy from Dawn and use her against Garrus or her flatout refusal to play along with his father's games at all—considering she'd opted for a more diplomatic role with him all day, calling him nothing but 'sir' and 'Mr. Vakarian'.

Truthfully, a part of Garrus would've loved to hear Dawn really tell his father what was on her mind. He'd heard her give her 'opinion' to the Council and The Illusive Man on several occasions, and it never ceased to amuse him and leave him feeling vindicated on her behalf. She was right, though. He wasn't prepared for the level of fallout or the permanent schism it'd create between Garrus and his family if she spoke to his father the same way. The relationship dynamics of the Vakarians since his mother developed Corpalis Syndrome were precariously balanced, at best—and so was Dawn. Spirits only knew what might happen if she cut loose on his dad.

She turned to look at Garrus and stood up. Without saying a word, she brushed her fingers along his slack mandible and then tapped his chin as if to remind him to keep his head held high before she walked away in utter silence. He shifted to watch, worried and confused as she made her way to the opposite end of the study and stopped next to a bookshelf. Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned her back to the room and dropped her weight to one hip, staring out of the window. He realized it was her way of telling him that she was right there if she needed him, but it was a battle she thought he needed to fight alone. And, she was right.

Dad hummed, drawing Garrus' attention back to the conversation at hand. He flicked his mandibles and tapped his talons on the wooden hand-rest of his chair. "I suppose she has a point. This is something we should've worked through long ago."

Garrus scoffed, shaking his head and looking at the brandy in his hand. "Is it even something we can work through, Dad?" he asked, finding the question too honest, too raw for him to meet his father's gaze.

Chuffing—probably just to clear his nostrils of the flurry of scents filling the air—his Dad said, "I thought we might've had a chance when Sirus died."

Garrus winced and looked up at his father, shocked and wounded to hear Sirus' name spoken aloud. The utter apathy in his father's voice hurt even more than the reminder of the loss. "What does Sirus have to do with this?"

"What doesn't your cousin have to do with this?" Dad waved his hand through the air, the gesture sharp, irritated, and utterly dismissive of Garrus' surprise. "Where do you think you picked up this rebellious spark of yours?" He shook his head, mandibles flicking before taking a drink of his brandy. "You always did have to try to do everything he did, and then more. Rules and expectations be damned."

Garrus felt his temperature rising. Bringing up Sirus was unnecessary and unfair. It was a low blow on his father's part, and he damn well knew it.

"He went into Blackwatch, you tried to become a Spectre." Flipping his hand again, Dad gestured at nothing in particular. "When he died," Dad said, and Garrus snapped his jaw down on a growl threatening to force its way out, "I thought it might mean you'd settle down. I thought C-Sec would ground you, help you to see the importance of doing things the right way and not just the fast way. You even managed to make detective, thank the Spirits."

"I didn't want to become a Spectre because Sirus joined Blackwatch." Garrus stared at his father, the talons of his free hand digging into the chair's upholstery. "Those things were completely unrelated."

His father didn't even bother to acknowledge the argument, he just took a drink from his glass and kept at it, digging deeper at Garrus. "But you just couldn't let it go; couldn't control your temper and couldn't stand it when things didn't work out right away. It wasn't about enforcing the law or even seeking justice for you, even though I know it's what you tell yourself."

Garrus remained silent, despite the look his father gave him, the challenge to argue. They'd been up and down that road so many times in Garrus' life, and it always seemed like Dad found some new way to highlight Garrus' failure. Some new facet of Garrus life or personality to point at and say, 'See there, this is why you're a failure. This is why you're a terrible turian.'

"It wasn't about living a life of service," Dad continued when Garrus didn't take the bait, "not to the Hierarchy, and not to galactic civilization. It was about you. You and your need to be better than everyone around you. To win. Sirus died off on a lawless black-ops mission, and you took off with the first Spectre who'd take you along for the ride."

Garrus growled, pushing forward to the edge of his seat. "Sirus died doing his job in service to the Hierarchy! He literally 'died for the cause'! You have no right to talk about him this way." He rammed the pad of his finger into the table, not even caring anymore if his tone and volume had crossed the line. "And you know why I left C-Sec with Shepard. You know who Saren was, what he would've done if we didn't stop him. Hell, Dad, that alone should've made you proud. Saren was everything you hate about the Spectres, and I joined the team tasked with taking him down!"

His dad growled, talons tapping against the hand-rest. "You stood up there in front of the Council with Shepard and that quarian girl as they admitted to having lost control over Saren, and you were still next to Shepard as the Council made her a Spectre and told her to find him. There was no reason for you to involve yourself any further, Garrus. If you really wanted to help, you could've offered her support through C-sec or plead your case to the Hierarchy, but you didn't even try. The fact of the matter is, you hated your job at C-Sec, and it was a chance for you to live the life of a Spectre vicariously through Shepard."

"Saren wasn't on the Citadel! There was nothing C-Sec could do, and until I learned Tali had information on Saren, C-Sec couldn't even find enough through the red tape to start building a case against him." Garrus flicked his mandibles and shook his head. No, his dad was wrong, plain and simple. "If I hadn't—if Shepard hadn't come looking for me, if we hadn't worked together to find Tali, she probably would've died and the recording condemning Saren would've been lost forever."

Smirking as Garrus stumbled over his words, struggling to put his thoughts in order, Dad hummed. "No, go on, finish your sentence. If you hadn't what, Garrus? If you hadn't used Shepard's arrival at the clinic as a distraction and taken a shot at a merc holding the doctor hostage in front of him like a living shield you might not have gotten to the quarian in time? I read the Executor's report, and trust me when I say Pallin was more than happy to have you leave his station after the trouble you caused with the Saren investigation. An investigation he'd already ordered you to drop."

"Where would it have gotten us if I'd listened?" Garrus flared his mandibles, stabbing the table with his finger again. "The reapers would already be here. Saren would've used the Conduit and opened the relay from the Citadel, completely unchecked while heretics slaughtered everyone on the damn station." Chuffing, Garrus sat back in his chair and shook his head again. "You're making my point for me, Dad."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Garrus?" Draining his glass, his Dad poured another.

Garrus flicked a mandible, frustrated by how his father simply refused to see the reality of the situation, even when it was laid out in front of him. "I wonder where I get that from."

"Then, you lost her, and it was like watching you fall apart after Sirus died all over again." Dad shook his head, staring past Garrus and into the flames of the fireplace. "Only worse. You disappeared. Went completely underground, and we had no idea where you were, what you were doing, or even if you were still alive! Do you have any idea what that did to your mother? Archangel." Dad scoffed and took a heavy swallow of brandy. "Of course I knew the moment Omega's vigilante popped up in the news. I gave you the first sniper rifle you ever owned, and I trained you in how to use it. You think I wouldn't recognize my own son's marksmanship? Archangel. Ridiculous. Then, by some miracle of science, Shepard comes back and you go running off with her again, the first chance you get. On a 'suicide mission', no less. Sometimes I wonder, Garrus, if suicide wasn't the point of all of this from the start."

Garrus sucked in a deep breath. The scent of Dawn's rage mixed with his own as it rolled through the air. He glanced over at her, but she remained silent, looking out of the window. Screw it, he thought, and downed the contents of his glass. He watched his father without saying a word, tracking his movements as Dad poured them both another drink.

"Well?" Dad asked, mandibles flared wide, brow plates hiked up as high as they'd go.

"Are you really so blind as to who I am, who I've always been, to try and blame a dead man for all the things you hate about me?" Garrus knocked back his glass, killing off that one, too. "Are you really so full of yourself that you can't see your own son grew up feeling oppressed under your talon and dreamed of the day he could shed the weight of your expectations and your plans for his future and become the man he wanted to be?"

He'd never, not once in his life, even considered really saying those things to his father. Not like that, not the way he'd have said them to any other man. His dad didn't respond, though, keeping his face locked down tight. He didn't even chuff or flick a mandible. Spirits, he didn't even threaten with a growl when Garrus mimicked the expression he'd used a moment before.

Emboldened by anger and the warmth of the brandy starting to spread through him, Garrus scoffed and shook his head. "I fantasized about being a Spectre long before Sirus went in for his mandatory service, Dad, and yes, it was a dream he encouraged me to follow because unlike you, Sirus believed in me."

Garrus suddenly realized, for the first time in his life, he felt like an equal to his father. He felt like he'd earned the right to speak to him, man to man. He no longer lived under the shadow of Castis Vakarian, and he wasn't going to allow himself to be stuffed back into that dark place. Never again.

Leaning forward, he swiped the bottle of brandy from the table and poured himself another. "You don't have to like what I do. You don't even have to like me, but I deserve to be respected. And that woman right over there," Garrus pointed at Shepard, "she deserves more respect than anyone else, living or dead, because we all owe our continued existence to that Spectre."

~69696969~

Shepard smiled to herself, Garrus' words acting as a release for her own fury. Twisting at the waist just enough to look over her shoulder at him, she watched as he clenched his fingers around the tumbler in his hand. Eyes blue fire, mandibles standing firm, not a hint of uncertainty or regret on his face. She was so fucking proud of him just then, and she wished Jack had been there to see it, too. Jane's pride flooded their connection as well. Shit, even most of the amalgamation seemed pleased by Garrus' putting his foot down with his father.

She felt fairly certain, though, if Castis said anything else about either Shepard or Sirus—a name she'd never heard before—then Garrus would decide it was time to test his hand-to-hand skills against his father. She wouldn't get in the middle of that one, either, but she really hoped it didn't come to that for the sake of his relationship with his family. She turned a little further, finding Castis staring at his son with wide-eyed … something.

"Was I really such a terrible father to you, Garrus?" Castis asked, face softening unexpectedly. "Do you really think I don't believe in you?" He scoffed, draining his glass before leaning forward to fill it again. "If I didn't believe in you, I wouldn't have bothered. I pushed you, challenged you so much because I believed in you. I still believe in you. All I ever wanted was for you to be the best man you can be."

"Then why can't you see that's exactly what I've been trying to do?" Garrus asked, mandibles fluttering softly around his face. "It may not be in the ways you'd prefer, but I'm doing good work, Dad. Shepard and I …." He trailed off, looking at her with something desperate and pleading hidden just behind the fire in his eyes.

The moment his gaze found hers, Garrus held out his arm, reaching for her as if the distance between them would disappear on command. Her feet started moving in his direction before she'd even contemplated uprooting herself, so, she supposed in a way, it did. She slipped her hand into his when she reached him, and let him pull her down to sit on the arm of his chair. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he squeezed her hip.

"Shepard and I are out there every day busting our asses with a team of good, brave men and women to try and make sure there's a galactic civilization still standing when this is all over." He hummed, rubbing his hand absently along the curve from her ribs down to her thigh and back again as if he were trying to soothe her and not himself. "No, we don't do things according to C-Sec regs, and yes, there's been times we've pissed off the Council, but we're doing what needs to be done and we're doing it the best way we can. You really don't see the good in that?"

"I'm trying to," Castis said, glancing between Shepard and Garrus, "but I don't even actually know what it is you are doing."

Shepard crawled into the small, bowl-shaped bed next to Garrus, tugging the blanket up beneath her chin as she curled into his side. He hummed, wrapping his arm down around her and carded his bare fingers through her hair. She could tell he was a little drunk, but nothing like the way she saw him get after she'd found him on Omega. He also seemed incredibly relaxed, even his hide carried less tension, after the face-off with his dad. She was glad. She hoped they'd actually managed to cover some real ground, and maybe, just maybe, they could start putting that shit behind them.

"Hey," he said, voice soft, mellow.

"Hmm?" She raised her eyebrow despite her face being tucked downward against the side of his keel.

"Thank you for coming here with me." He purred and shifted, rolling to his side and settling deeper down on the bed until he could push his forehead against hers.

She smiled, reaching out to rest her hand on his face, brushing her thumb back and forth across his mandible. "Of course. Thank you for wanting me here with you. I haven't done the whole 'meet the parents' thing since I was a teenager, though, so I hope I wasn't too awkward."

"Are you kidding? You were great." He settled a hand down on her hip, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt—well, his shirt, actually, something he'd found in an old footlocker for her to wear to bed. It definitely wasn't cut for a human, but it looked kind of cute, the widened opening fit for a turian's cowl hung loosely around her shoulders and created a flowy sort of boat neck appearance.

She snorted. "You're too easily impressed, Vakarian."

"No, I'm not," he insisted, nuzzling closer while gripping her hip to pull her in further. "You were really, really good with my mom, and for the first time in my life, I think my father actually heard something I was trying to say. I don't know if the conversation would've gone as well if you weren't in there with me."

"I didn't even really say anything to him until after the two of you were done yelling." She shook her head, sliding her hand down from his face and trailing her fingers over his throat. She could just barely make out his features thanks to the moons' lights filtering in through the diaphanous curtains. She loved how many windows his parents' house had, and how they mostly just let the natural light fill the house, relying on the external UV shielding for privacy.

"No, but I think that's exactly what needed to happen, and having you there helped me to remember that I'm actually worth something to someone."

"You're worth everything to me, Garrus." She smiled and brought her hand down to rest her arm across his waist, fingers dancing over his bare spine. "And I've never been more proud of you."

"You really feel that way, don't you?" he asked, and hummed, tipping his head to capture her lips before she could respond.

He kissed her, long and soft, and began exploring further beneath her shirt. His warm hand closed around one of her breasts, gently kneading. The rough hide of his thumb brushed over her nipple, and she whimpered into his mouth. He broke the kiss, nuzzling into her neck and breathing in her scent as he squeezed her breast again.

Heat flooded her, both from desire and the sudden awareness of where they actually were. "Garrus," she said, already pretty damn close to not caring since he didn't seem to, "you sure you want to do this with your parents down the hall and your sister in the next room."

"What does that matter?" he asked, nipping her skin with his mouth plates and making her squirm.

"Uh … well, they're your parents." She frowned, trying really hard to keep her wits about her while she tried to reason with him a little.

"Hmm." He pulled back, and though she couldn't quite make out his eyes beyond pools of shadow, she knew he was searching her face for something. "Turians don't really care about that sort of thing, Dawn. But," he said, dragging the word out, mandibles flaring before fluttering, "if it offends your delicate, human sensibilities …." His hand slipped away from her breast, trailing down to her ribs on its way out of her shirt.

She huffed and pushed him over to his back, climbing on top of his lap as he chuckled and got a good grip on her hips. She put her hands out, trapping his head between her arms as she supported herself against the bed's frame and kissed him. She rocked her hips, stimulating herself against the ridges of his plating and coaxing his sheath open wide enough to feel the moist heat escape through the thin fabric of his pants. He groaned, tightening his grip on her and using his strength to shift her weight, making her repeat the movement.

She let out a soft whimper, her body craving the feel of him buried deep inside. His plates shifted a little further, wetness spreading across the fabric separating them, though whether from him or her, or just both, she couldn't be sure and neither did she care. He hooked his fingers through the hips of her panties and tugged, shoving them down over her ass before grabbing a hand full of cheek on both sides. He hoisted her up, creating space between his delicious heat and the wet throb between her legs. She growled a little and squirmed, wanting the feeling back, but it only made him chuckle. He lifted her further, shifting her over him while he maneuvered out from under her body. He pushed up onto his knees and finished pulling her panties down her thighs, waiting for her to lift one leg and then the other to free her completely.

Before she could turn over or really move at all, he pressed his palm against her crotch and carefully slid a finger down along her slit, soaking it in her fluids. She shuddered and stayed put, mindful of his talons. Gliding back up, he cupped her, using the heel of his hand to rub and tease her opening. She arched her back to push herself harder against his hand and spread her folds, deepening the sensation as the length of his finger came to rest against her clit. He bent the tips of his fingers back, keeping his talons out of the equation, and she rolled her hips, rubbing herself against his hand.

He purred, the sound approving, rewarding, even. Although the words never left his mouth, she heard the 'good girl' plain as day in the steady rumble, and it made her growl. He chuckled again, shifting to kneel behind her and leaned over her back, nipping her exposed neck and shoulder. She hissed and moaned, tipping her head to offer him more of her flesh, and he sank his teeth into the crook of her neck, balancing just above causing actual pain, but effectively holding her in place. She allowed the little act of dominance because, quite frankly, the way he slid the pad of his finger back and forth over her clit made her not give a damn, and they both knew 'submissive' wasn't really in her vocabulary.

His other hand snaked its way up her shirt to pinch first one nipple and then the other, sending little jolts of electricity through her body. Letting go of the bed with one hand, she reached behind her and slipped her fingers beneath his crest. She dug her fingertips into the sensitive hide, kneading into the flesh, pushing and pulling as if the gesture might stave off the mounting insanity from her growing desperation. He groaned and purred, coaxing shivers from her body fueled by raw need and the well-practiced movements of his hands, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Garrus," she said, her voice a throaty, hoarse whisper, and something about it seemed to trigger a hungry growl from him, "I want you inside of me when I lose control."

His hands disappeared, but his jaw remained closed around her. A moment later, the bed shifted as he freed himself from his pants and used his knee to shove her legs further apart. His movements felt urgent yet restrained, as he shuffled closer. Using a knuckle, he parted her folds and pressed the tip of his cock against her opening. She arched her back, ignoring the pricks of pain from skin breaking beneath a few of his teeth and pushed back against him, ready to devour every inch he had to give. She could only move so far, though, and he was in control.

Gently removing her hand from his head, Garrus laced his fingers through hers as he guided her hand to the bed frame, gripping the metal with both their hands. He released his teeth from her neck and licked her skin as he grabbed her hip with his free hand, holding her in that position as he pushed forward, agonizingly slow.

The side of his head pressed against hers once he was about halfway inside and her muscles were relaxing around the intrusion of his girth. He spoke right next to her ear, "Don't bother trying to hold back." He bucked his hips, sinking the rest of the way inside of her and making her gasp and whine. He growled, talons digging against her hip a little before he started to ease back. "They'll hear every whimper either way." He eased back, and a shudder ran down her spine before he slammed into her again, very nearly sending her over the edge. "Just focus on this," he said, rolling his hips, tearing a moan from her throat. He slid his hand along her stomach and brought it to rest over her heart. "Just you, and me, right here, right now." He purred against her ear. "Nothing and no one else matters."