The desolation on Palaven was unimaginable. The Normandy was now flying low enough to make out the details of the ruin on the ground below. The fields looked like a great beast had dragged its claws through the flesh of the earth. In places, these open wounds were scattered with the remains of small dwellings. Craters of scorched rock punctuated the earth, and in the distance Shepard could see the shattered, crumbling crown of Prometra, the once proud capital of the Turian empire.
Garrus slowly walked towards Joker's seat, staring at the devastation below. "I… I heard it was bad," he said, his voice breaking, "but I had no idea."
They passed over what must have been a great wood on the edges of the capital, but not a single spot of green remained. It had become a tangle of blackened limbs, like a wall of malicious thorns along one side of the city.
Shepard could see that Prometra had been larger than any of the cities she had ever visited on Earth. None of the enormous towering buildings that formed the capital were entirely intact. One thin building actually leaned against the one next to it. From the honeycomb look of the buildings, neither had the structural security to keep that up long. There were no longer streets below, just ebbing and flowing waves of rubble at the bases of the broken towers. A Turian dreadnought hung in the air above what was left of the city to the east and a swarm of smaller vessels wove between and over the buildings.
"They must be worried about security. Or need extra medical support." Garrus said, eyeing the massive military vessel.
"Actually," said EDI, the AI's voice surprisingly tender. "According to Bloodhound's intel it is holding a large population of Brutes and Marauders, and was brought in to collect the dead.
Garrus laughed hollowly. "So we filled our flagship with the lost. Figures." His voice was cold as he added, "Well, Shepard, welcome to my home."
/././././././././././././././././././././
Shepard was on edge. Garrus was flying them between the crumbling buildings in a small private craft. She had only seen damage of this magnitude once before, and it hadn't really been her who had seen it. Prometra reminded her of the carnage she had seen of Echo's homeworld. Weaving swiftly around and under the carcases of the towers of Prometra made her feel like she was back in one of their visions. Part of her kept expecting to hear that blaring horn-like noise and see an explosion of red light.
Garrus was tense beside her, his knuckles white on the controls of the ship. "Something's troubling you." She said softly, watching his face.
"Everything is troubling me." he growled. His eyes flicked to her, saw her concern and softened, but his voice was heavy with pain as he said, "this… isn't exactly how I envisioned showing you my home."
"I'm sorry." She said softly. Garrus nodded. "If it makes you feel any better we can go to Earth. Ashley said some of it was still burning."
He rolled his eyes.
The Normandy had landed and docked at the remains of Prometra's Human embassy. Traynor had instructions to check on the humans there and see if there was anything the Normandy could do to support them, such as offer supplies like levo food or antihistamines. If there was anything on the Normandy that those stationed at the embassy might need, she had instructions to transfer it to them. She and Garrus alone had boarded the smaller craft and set off across Prometra to see Chief Castis Vakarian.
"So what exactly does your father do?" she asked, half to try and distract Garrus from his dark thoughts, half because she genuinely wanted more of a briefing before meeting with an unknown alien official.
"He was retired." Garrus said, "Until the war. I'm not exactly sure what they had him doing during it, but since you woke the Ascendant up and got them to stop killing everyone, he's been appointed Chief of Security for the Reconstruction."
"What exactly does that entail?"
"He's in charge of making sure no one attacks Palaven while we're rebuilding and we don't see rioting or civil unrest."
Shepard frowned. "That seems like a lot for one person to handle."
"You're not wrong," Garrus said darkly, frowning slightly. "He may have actually pulled Atala from her other assignments to help keep an eye out for inbound threats. We've reached out for aid from whoever can spare it… not that many can. There are a lot of unfamiliar ships coming in. It helps that, culturally speaking, civil unrest is unlikely." His eyes flicked to the rubble drowned streets below. "I don't think anyone here would have the energy or resources for much unrest anyway."
They approached a building with a gleaming black facade. It clearly had once towered into the sky, and had a huge docking bay with a sweeping arch for the roof, but now the upper floors and northmost wall had been blasted or crumbled away. "This is the temporary center for the Reconstruction." He said, "Such a shame. It used to be our opera house. I spent a lot of good nights here once upon a time.
Shepard didn't know where to begin with that.
"Turian opera?" she began. She couldn't help starting to laugh.
"Excuse me," he said, "But I happen to know that Turian vibrato does all sorts of things to a certain Commander." He gave her a sideways look. "You have no idea what it's capable of with the proper acoustics and an orchestra." He grinned to himself and was quiet.
"What?" Shepard asked, eyes narrowing.
"Oh nothing." He said blithely, "I'm just picturing your reaction… and enjoying it."
Garrus steered the craft up the side of the building.
"The briefing my father sent about meeting with him detailed that all the elevators in the building are still out. Apparently they've held off on reconstruction on the open side because now the only real way to get from one part of the building to another is to fly. Unless someone wants to walk up several thousand stairs."
With a few curses he slowly brought the ship in through a gap in the wall on a level several hundred feet above the rubble strewn streets below. The opening was clearly not meant for anything of this size, but the highly capable soldier was able to land it on the marble floor without hitting the crumbling ceiling or walls.
They clambered out of the vessel and were greeted by two officers flanking either side of the door. The female officer then placed her hand on the pistol at her hip and demanded. "Name and business?"
"General Vakarian of the Reaper Task Force and Commander Moria Shepard of the Alliance Navy. We have a meeting with Chief Vakarian." Garrus said, spine straight.
The two officers snapped to a salute. "Welcome General Vakarian, sir." barked the male, who had not questioned them.
"At ease, soldiers." Garrus said. Shepard recognized a hint of extra blue in the coloring of his exoskeleton behind his tattoos, the telltale sign that he was embarrassed. She didn't think the officers noticed however.
Officer Trigger-Happy, as Shepard had decided to name the female, stepped forward. "I have been assigned to escort you to Chief Vakarian's office, sir. Do you require anything before the meeting."
"No," Garrus said, walking forward, Shepard following him. "Better to not keep the Chief waiting."
"Yes, sir. In that case, please follow me." She opened the door to the inner hallway of the building they had been guarding, holding it open for Shepard and Garrus. Shepard found it remarkable that the door was hinged. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen one like that. The opera house must be very old. It made her wonder what the room that was now a parking lot had been before the Reapers attacked.
She was about to pass through the threshold when the other officer said, "General Vakarian, permission to speak, sir?"
Garrus paused, considering the male. "Permission granted."
"Permission to address Commander Shepard, sir." Garrus merely raised his brow at Shepard.
She tensed, but said with her best bravado, "Speak freely, officer."
The male gave her a long look and then said, rather flustered. "A Krogan saved my family from a Reaper, sir. I was stationed on a colony two systems away for the duration of the war. They wouldn't have made it through without the Krogan forces stepping in." The young male seemed a little uncomfortable with what he had shared. He added somberly. "We thank the Spirits for your service, sir."
Shepard nodded, but said, "Thank the Spirits for Mordin Solus." She said softly. "Remember his name."
The young male blinked. "Aye, aye sir." He said, then saluted them and stepped back to his post along the wall.
Shepard felt the weight of the female officer's gaze, then she turned to lead them through the doorway and down the hall. The building was stunning. Vaulted stone ceilings were painted with the constellations and scenes from Turian history. The walls and floor were made of a gleaming, marble-like stone with swirling colors and clusters of sparkling deposits. Alcoves lined the walls filled with busts of Turians that must have been notable for something or other. Shepard found it fascinating that although the busts were all made of a dark metal, their clan tattoos had been applied to each somber countenance in color.
"I'm pretty sure this is where the opera's historical society used to be housed." Garrus mused as they followed the officer. His eyes scanned the busts along the walls, not seeming to need to read the text on the plinth to recognize them. They reached a green clan tattooed bust and he grimaced. "She wrote the book on classical composition," he said, "But I can't for the life of me get through one of her operas without falling asleep."
Shepard had never felt so out of her element while with him. "Interesting." She said, sounding like an idiot even to herself. Garrus chuckled.
They turned down the end of the hall to where an intricate pair of doors awaited. "Wait here, please." the office said. She tapped a series of commands into the panel on the wall and walked into a cavernous room as the doors swung open. Shepherd could hear several voices deep in discussion on the other side of the room.
"Why did that officer call me 'sir'?" She asked under her breath as they waited.
"Oh right," Garrus said. He shook his head a little as if he had been lost in thought. "We don't have any gender distinction in our ranks. We all serve. I've always found it weird that you humans have different forms of address."
"Come to think of it," Shepard said, "I don't think you've ever called me ma'am."
Garrus gave her a sideways look. "Do you wish I had?"
"No," Shepard said. "I've never been big on it. I kind of like the 'sir' thing, actually."
"Good, I don't think I could call you 'ma'am" even if I wanted to. Ever since I heard Joker say it a few times it just seems… wrong… and a little dirty"
"Yeah," Shepard said. "He can have that effect. I'm sure his vid collection and what he recommends to people break about a hundred HR protocols."
Garrus grinned. "We should ask him if there are any that would give us some… new ideas." He stooped and brought his face close to her, his breath hot, tickling her ear.
"Could find something that looks like it's worth trying, sir." She jabbed her elbow right in the weak spot she had found in Turian armor and Garrus cursed, spluttering and coughing. He grinned and opened his mouth, eyes bright, but remained silent and snapped to attention as they heard their escorting officer call.
"General Garrus Vakarian of the Reaper Task Force and Commander Moria Shepard of the Alliance Navy to see you, sir." Shepard felt a little sick. It was ridiculous. She was meeting with a foreign military leader, she did that all the time. She usually yelled at them and told them how they were putting all of life in the galaxy at risk - what the hell was she so worried for?
"About damn time." Snapped Castis Vakarian. "Send them in."
Shepard had a feeling that they were equally uncomfortable as they entered the room. They stepped into a cavernous space that had once clearly been a large conference room, but had now been converted to an office. A group of Turians stood at the other end of the room before a desk displaying holos of the ruined city. Two of them snapped to attention as Garrus and Shepard stepped over the threshold. The sharp voice from the end of the room called out, "Avitus, Nitreus, you're excused. Admiral Vietarus, if we could continue discussing the signal later?"
A purple tattooed female Turian in elaborate flowing robes of black and silver said "Certainly, Vakarian." She turned from the figure she had been speaking to who stood silhouetted against the huge windows on the far wall. She made her way towards another door on the far side of the chamber, her eyes flicking between Garrus and Shepard. Garrus saluted as she drew near. "General," she said, nodding to him. She then eyed Shepard. The Turian's green eyes seemed to bore into Shepard's. Shepard had the distinct feeling that she was being evaluated. The female took in scars, strands and the fading scrapes and bruises, her face unreadable. Slowly, she nodded to Shepard and finally exited the room, followed by her aides.
Garrus and Shepard continued to cross the room, stopping several feet before the desk. Garrus saluted once again, and this time Shepard followed him. "Chief Vakarian, may I introduce Commander Moria Shepard of the Systems Alliance, Spectre for the Citadel Council, and Captain of the Normandy.
The silhouetted Turian chuckled, his back still to Shepard and Garrus. "For someone who'd choose being pinned down in a firefight over a political dinner any day of the week, you seem to have developed quite the knack for shrewd introductions." The long crested shadow cast across the desk shifted as Castis finally turned to look at them. "Start off with the military that was first to really address the Reaper threat, bury her Spectre status because you know my feelings on them, and end by referencing the ship who's name is being whispered like a prayer across the galaxy. Very shrewd, Garrus."
"I might not have appreciated hours of shooting when I was younger, but as you know my relationship to practice matured. I'd like to think my feelings about politics could do the same. Sir." Garrus said tensley, not dropping his salute until a moment after his father had fully turned to look at him. "Sir, Commander Shepard should need no introduction, shrewd or otherwise. Her resume and the fact that we're all even here to talk about it speaks for itself."
"And can the Commander speak for herself?" Castis asked, his ice blue eyes fixing on Shepard.
"The Reapers certainly thought I could." Shepard said, keeping her voice light and easy despite the tension in the room. Castis let out a throaty chuckle once again.
The Turian standing before them in the stark light of the huge windows had several inches on Garrus. He bore a more pronounced crest of horns and a longer face, though it too bore a smattering of scars. His carapace was a paler grey, nearly white in some places. His tattoos were slightly different, though of the same strong blue. Both Vakarians bore the sweeping marks across the crest of their cheek, but Castis' trailed down his face rather than across the bridge of his nose, and a line cut down across his eye on either side, rather like one of Shepard's many scars. He had the same piercing, calculating blue gaze as his children. However, the blue of his eyes was lighter, colder. It reminded Shepard of the tundras and polar regions of Earth where she'd done exposure training. The Chief of Reconstruction wore light armor that was draped with his own set of intricate robes and a small pistol hung at his side.
"Atala said you were spirited." He said, his eyes roving her face. "I suppose I should have been prepared for an answer like that."
Shepard nodded. "Well, after having the pleasure of meeting your daughter earlier today I certainly know I would be wary of anyone she deemed 'spirited'." Shepard said.
Garrus' face was politely blank, but she thought she saw him spread his shoulders in pride just a bit.
Chief Vakarian's eyes narrowed a fraction. "A fair point, Commander."
"It has been an honor to meet more of General Vakarian's family." Shepard said, trying to gain some control over the tone of the conversation. "He has saved my life on more than one occasion and I understand your whole family has provided exemplary service to the Turian empire." Chief Vakarian's brow raised slightly as he listened. "I had been informed that Master Sergeant Atala received a broken leg while evacuating Palaven." Shepard continued, pointedly referencing Atala's cover rank which she had obtained from EDI before they left the Normandy. Garrus turned his head a hair towards her in surprise. She resisted a grin. "She seems to be recovering well, although I hope it doesn't hinder her work in the Krogan Relations and Response Corps. It didn't seem to impede her ability to visit with us on my ship." She added with a hint of a grin. "It is an honor to now make your acquaintance as well, Chief Vakarian."
Castis held her in his appraising stare for a moment and then said in a tone that Shepard found surprisingly gentle. "She is healing well, thank you. And the honor is mine." He began crossing around the side of his desk. "Commander, your resume and scars suggest that you had no misconceptions about our chances during the war. May I ask something of you, one very unlikely survivor to another?"
Shepard frowned slightly. "Of course, Chief Vakarian, please speak freely."
Chief Vakarian tensed for a moment, now standing before her and Garrus. "I can't believe I of all people am asking this, but in my opinion, if a war like that doesn't change you somehow you should have died in it." He eyed Shepard for a moment. "I used to think there was always time to do things the right way, but now that I of all people am incharge of keeping our species and planet safe as we rebuild from almost nothing, I'm not so sure." His lips tightened and then he said. "Would you allow me a moment of lapsed protocol? It's… it's been a very long time since I've seen my son."
Shepard nodded. "Of course, Chief Vakarian." She said softly, taking a few steps back for good measure.
Garrus actually looked a little alarmed. Castis took another step forward so he was directly in front of his son. The two males seemed deeply uncomfortable. "Garrus." Castis said, nodding.
Garrus was quiet for a moment. Then, for the first time since they arrived, addressed Castis without rank. "Dad." Castis threw his arms around his son. Garrus looked totally taken aback, his eyes flashed to Shepard over his father's shoulder.
"It's so good to see you, son." Castis said. His armor made a slight groaning sound against Garrus' as he tightened his embrace.
And finally, Garrus returned it. "It's good to see you, too." He tucked his head into his father's shoulder for a moment and whispered. "I… I was so worried."
Castis ran a hand across the crest of horns atop his son's head, and for the first time, Shepard noticed that while Castis' horns were longer, they were otherwise identical. He then pulled back and gave Garrus a half grin. "We're Vakarian, remember? We're hard to kill."
"And Atala?" Garrus asked quickly, his eyes hungry for assurance. "There aren't any complications from her leg?"
"She's doing fine." Castis confirmed.
"Nothing's developing? She's not-" Garrus pressed.
"No, she's healing normally." Castis said, gently cutting Garrus off.
Castis let out a slightly pained and exasperated sigh - clearly something else that ran in the Vakarian family. "Although I'm sure she'll be jealous of your scars." Castis continued. "She's been talking about hiring a Salarian to create a section of transparent armor for when she's healed enough to not need the brace." He scanned the scars on Garrus' face, his expression of someone who could see the kinds of wounds that left them behind. "I'm sure she was livid when she saw yours were so prominent."
"They're all old and healing well." Garrus assured gently.
Castis raised an eyebrow.
"Most of them." Garrus said with a shrug. "Dad, I… I'm sorry I left the way I did, and -"
"There will be time for these kinds of conversations later." Castis interrupted, his eyes shifting to Shepard and beginning to step back. "We don't need to- "
"No." Garrus said gently, catching his father's arm. "I thought that too and then your signal turned to static and I spent weeks wondering if you were dead." His blue eyes were blazing. "I wouldn't care who heard this, but I certainly don't give a damn about it being Shepard."
His father just stood, listening.
Garrus took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I left the way I did. I'm sorry I said the things I did. I'm sorry for staying away and dodging calls." He shifted uncomfortably. "We don't always see eye to eye but I'll thank the spirits till the end time that we still have decades of arguments ahead of us." His voice softened. "And who knows? Maybe now, in the wake of the war, we can argue a little less. I hope it's taught me to listen. Like you always do."
Castis eyed Shepard again for a moment, then looked back to Garrus. "You've learned well. I'm proud of you." he said softly. Garrus' eyes widened a fraction in surprise. Castis began walking back around his desk, glancing at something on the display. "You've certainly learned some diplomacy." He said. "Your message said you were escorting the human Commander here to Palaven because she needed something from me. Something that was important. But I have to ask," His eyes snapped to Shepard. They were cold, like cutting shards of ice, and it wasn't the color that suddenly robbed his gaze of any of its former warmth. "Did she convince you to come see me before or after she started sleeping with you?" The last words rang with sharp accusation.
Shepard could feel her heart pounding. Well, that wasn't how she had hoped things would go. For a moment Garrus bore the slightly panicked expression of a sniper who suddenly couldn't find any cover. He schooled his features, and through a gritted jaw said, "I'm sorry, sir, but I am not sure what you are implying."
His father snorted. "Your scents are all over each other. When you first came in the room I thought it was just because you're the only Turian on her ship. Maybe it was just a side effect of spending so many weeks in all that recycled air." His eyes narrowed. "But when I got close enough…. you reek of her. Of all of her."
Shepard took a deep controlling breath, hoping very much that doing so would stop her face from changing color from rage or any other emotion.
"Our relationship has nothing to do with why we need to speak to the Primarch." Garrus said tensely.
"You mean your relations." Castis said coldly.
"No." Said Garrus. Staring his father down. "I mean relationship."
Chief Vakarian's face suddenly went blank, caught off guard.
"She has been my most trusted partner on the battlefield for years," Garrus said, his voice a deadly calm, "and now, I hope I will have her at my back in all other fights." He gave his father a long look. "From the stories you used to tell me when I was growing up you felt the same way about a certain squadmate, and that relationship thrived and served you both well, as I hope ours will." Chief Vakarian frowned, and Garrus continued. "But that is not why we're here. It was brought to my attention on Rannoch that Commander Shepard had urgent matters that needed to be discussed with the Council." Garrus had a slight edge to his voice now. "Matters that had to do with the current peace we all fought so hard for. As a General who served in that war, I advised speaking first with Primarch Victus as, in my opinion, it would be the most effective step in preserving the peace."
Shepard really should have figured it would go something like this. Why would it be easy? Or, not even easy, why would she possibly think that this wouldn't be horribly twisted and complicated. She couldn't decide if she should be pissed at Sentinel and the Ascendant for wanting to not be treated like monsters, herself for not coming up with some logical reason to beg an Asari or Salarian to go bully their Councilor into supporting her, or Garrus for not admitting that this was going to go horribly.
Garrus ran a hand across his forehead and crest in frustration and then added, "I would have also hoped this would have felt different." Shepard and Castis were both watching him now. "If I'm honest, I've spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like… the day I come to my family to share that I've found a warrior worthy enough to stand with us as a member of Clan Vakarian." There was pain and disappointment in the look he gave his father. "But this conversation makes me fear that it is we that are not worthy of her service."
"You can't be serious about this, Garrus?" Castis said slowly. However, this time his tone was not harsh.
"I'm dead serious about it." Garrus growled. "In fact, if it weren't for Shepard, and frankly, if it wasn't for the type of relations between us that you clearly oppose, I wouldn't be here for you to disapprove of. But if you clearly have something against her-"
"Don't be stupid. I have nothing against her." Castis said, looking to Shepard, "Truly, Commander. There are no misconceptions about what you gave in this war." Not entirely true, Shepard thought.
She was deeply uncomfortable. She wasn't necessarily okay with the various prejudices between species but she understood where it came from and wasn't naive enough to think it would suddenly vanish forever just because the various species had come together to fight the Reapers. She had no issues with standing up for herself and even she had her fair share of tangled family history and drama. She understood that, and she understood this was not her fight. Not yet, anyway. This was truly an inter-Vakarian conflict and she didn't have intel or understand the lay of the land enough to have a fighting chance here.
"Nearly every Turian would jump at the opportunity to serve with you." Castis continued, nodding respectfully. "But I have to ask the hard questions, and in my days at C-Sec I saw too many people come asking for favors or connections on the arm of someone with a personal agenda." He continued, now addressing Garrus. "I know she's a fine soldier, but Garrus: the Commander is a human and you are a Vakarian." He shook his head. "What did you honestly think you were going to find in bringing her to our home?"
Garrus was breathing fast now.
"Alright." he said dryly. "I won't bring her home. I can get a temporary residence somewhere assigned to us by the Settlement Office, and if I can't, lucky for me my human girlfriend happens to have her own damn ship where I and just about every other creature in this blasted galaxy have always been more than welcome. Hopefully you won't have ruined my welcome there and I can stay on the Normandy until I get us our own meeting with the Primarch, because, you know, she happened to save him, too." He spat the last words at his father, turned on his heel and began to storm from the room. Shepard gave Chief Vakarian a half apologetic look and began following him.
Castis shook his head at his retreating son and called. "Leaving, that's always been your move. Tell me Garrus, is she why you quit C-Sec and Spectre training? You saw someone with a certain magnetism who didn't have the patience for the proper way of doing things and you were drawn like a moth to the flame? Learned to quit when things didn't go your way?"
Garrus froze before the door at these words. He turned back slowly and gave his father a deadly stare. "No." he hissed. "But in fighting with her I did learn that when you know what's right, what needs to be done, you do it. No matter who is in your way, no matter who refuses to believe you, and no matter what is asked of you." He looked to Shepard and nodded at the door. "Come on, Commander."
"If she's helped you to finally learn that," Castis called after them. "Then she'll make a fine addition to Clan Vakarian."
"What?" Garrus whirled a second time, his face contorted in frustration.
"I said that if she's someone who can help you learn something like that then she'd be a fine member of our clan." Castis said, striding briskly towards them.
Garrus' jaw was tight. "But she's a human."
"Yes." Said Castis. "Asking the tough questions is my job and anyone joining our clan is a serious matter. A human joining is unprecedented." He said. "I had to be sure you had thought this through."
Shepard could see that Garrus was livid. She wasn't too pleased herself. She had a feeling the strain of dealing with the Vakarians today had taken a good ten years off her life.
"Now get out of here. I have a meeting in ten and I need time for the smell of your temper to fade so I don't have to deal with stupid questions." He clasped his son on the arm. "Don't look at me like that," he added. "I was only doing my job." He started back towards his desk, and Garrus stared after his father, his mind seeming to be far away. He and Shepard finally stepped through the door, and before it closed, they heard Castis yell, "And Shepard, family dinner's at twenty-one hundred hour. Don't let him be late."
"How could you not have told him?" Shepard shouted as she poured herself a liberal measure of alcohol from her Rannoch glass set.
"Have you told your Mother?" Garrus said from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his forehead pressed into one hand, the other holding the glass he had already drained.
"No," Shepard said, "But it doesn't really matter that I haven't because we're not on Earth or wherever she's stationed asking her for political favors!" She took another long swig of her drink. "You've been communicating with him a fair bit since I was walking again, you seriously haven't mentioned that we were dating?" Was she supposed to be offended by that? The female characters in most vids were. But she wasn't really feeling frustrated that he hadn't talked to his family about her; he had barely talked to his family about anything in all the time she'd known him. She was just pissed that she'd been blindsided. She was not good at this whole relationship thing.
Garrus looked at her, deeply confused. "Do you think I would tell him something like that in a call or a message?"
Shepard blinked. "Um, yes."
"Not in person? Humans do that kind of thing?" he pressed.
"Lots of people do that kind of thing. I got introduced to a Quarian's whole damn family that way." She said frustratedly.
Garrus frowned. "Well Turians don't. Actually telling your family about a relationship is a big deal. It means you're serious about that person taking part in the Joining." Shepard sighed and rubbed her head. Garrus continued after a pensive moment, still frowning. "You had a Quarian boyfriend?"
She gave him a dirty look. "Not the issue at hand, Vakarian." She growled. Then added quickly, "Also, it was a Quarian girlfriend." She drained her glass and swiftly turned to pour herself another so she wouldn't have to see his reaction.
There was silence and then "Interesting."
"Vakarian…" she growled.
"Ok, ok. We can save that fascinating topic of discussion for later." Garrus said. "My point is, Shepard, no, I hadn't told my family about you because I wanted to do it right. It was really important to me." His tone had grown bitter. "I didn't think that we would be getting into that today."
"Yeah, that's another thing." Shepard said hotly. "We smell like each other?" When the hell were you going to bring that up? And what the hell does that even mean?" She paced the cabin in frustration. "I shower!" she snapped.
Garrus chuckled and then quickly turned it into a coughing fit as she glared at him. "I, uh… I didn't think that would be a problem either. Atala didn't seem to notice anything. I was hoping he would just presume it was from me being on the ship!"
"Well you were clearly wrong." Shepard snarled, "Why. Do I smell. Like. You?"
"Look, Shepard, our senses are just stronger. You can tell where someone's been and some of what they were doing by their scent. It doesn't matter who's ship you've been on: Asari, Quarian or even Krogan," he said, grimacing at the last party in the list, "You come home and other Turians have a pretty clear idea about who's been keeping you company. Fades after a day or two." He swallowed and then continued. "But… um… if you've been engaging in… recreational activities involving pheromones… the scent is a little different." She glowered at him. "But it's only noticeable if you're close and I did not think that was going to be happening." He said, giving her a pleading look. He snorted. "I was not expecting to get hugged by my father in the middle of the Reconstruction Base today. Also, unless someone's been welcomed to your clan it's not really a big deal. It's mostly viewed as a way to blow off steam and keep sharp. A necessary part of being an efficient soldier. We all have to take the edge off sometime so no one really talks about it." He shook his head. "That's part of why I was just a little pissed and taken aback when it sidelined the meeting."
Shepard considered this for a moment. "He wasn't exactly polite about it, but he did have a point."
Garrus laughed. "Castis Vakarian in a nutshell. Good, you've got his number. Hopefully his behavior won't be too much of a surprise now." He looked up at her from the bed. "I am sorry." he said, his eyes searching hers.
She crossed to him, standing between his long legs and ran a hand across his face. "Me too." She said softly, then added with a scowl. "I still kinda want to kill you."
Garrus shrugged and grinned up at her. "The danger's probably half the thrill of being with you." he teased.
She shrugged. "That's fine by me. I'm also only here for the cheap thrills."
He slid his hands around her waist, one creeping up her back. "Oh yeah?" He purred. "And what exactly would those be?"
Shepard gave him a slow grin that she knew drove him crazy. "Oh, you know. The voice, the scars… and that wicked thing in your mouth."
He gave her a hungry look. "You know cheap thrills can be pretty quick." he said, fingering one of the spots were the two halves of her breastplate buckled together.
"Oh, don't even think about it." She said, shoving him back onto the bed and crossing to the bar to pick up her drink. She wanted to… and as much as she agreed with the philosophy of physical recreation to take the edge off, she did not think it would be much help with what she was facing tonight. "Besides. We're going to be heading back out before you know it."
"Right." Garrus sighed. "I should probably change. Wearing armor to remind my father that I actually have been fighting is one thing but it's not exactly appropriate for dinner."
"What?" Shepard said in panic. "We have to change?"
"Um, we should." Said Garrus in some confusion. He frowned. "Really, Shepard? Armor at the dinner table?"
"But you're all Turians, you're the military species! You're seriously telling me that you Spartan idiots care about something like that?!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "You eat in armor all the time! You literally have eaten in your armor twice today!"
"Yeah, Shepard," Garrus said, frowning. "In the mess. What's going on here?"
"I have nothing to wear!" She snapped, gesturing at the closet of doom at the far end of her cabin. She thought of that blasted cocktail dress and Garrus' father's initial accusation. "I literally have nothing else, Garrus."
He laughed as he sat up and she shoved him back again in frustration.
"Easy, easy." He said. "It's ok, I can fix that actually."
"Oh yeah?" Shepard snorted. "What, do you just happen to have a stockpile of human female formal wear in the back of your cabin."
Garrus had a strange expression on his face for a moment and then said quickly. "No." Shepard cocked her head at him. "That's not important." He said. "What is important is that I can solve your fashion problems."
"Go on," Shepard said, crossing her arms.
"Well, it seems like you weren't the only one unsatasfied by how your and Atala's introduction went." He said with a grin. "When we got back and I was in my cabin, I saw that Atala snuck something onto the ship this afternoon. I think it just might be a peace offering." He disappeared from the room and came back a few minutes later with a large box.
"In you go," he said, gesturing towards the bathroom. "And let me know if you need help figuring out how any of it works." he said. "I'll happily lend both hands." He said with a wolfish grin.
"Yeah right." Shepard said, taking the parcel from him and disappearing into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she nervously stood at the door staring at herself. She couldn't tell why her heart was beating so quickly. She eyed herself in the mirror. She did look good… but she'd looked good in front of him plenty of times before - and did looks even matter after having seen one another as bashed and broken as the two of them had been?
"Ok. I'm coming out." She called.
"You'd better, Shepard," Garrus called, "Otherwise we will actually be late, and there's no way my father will believe it was your fault and not mine."
"Dammit, Garrus," Shepard said, striding out from the bathroom, "You can't tell me that you're really worried about -" But she stopped when she saw his face.
He was staring at her, eyes gleaming, mouth slightly open. In the closefitting formal wear he now wore as well, she could see that his breath was coming faster than usual. The way he was looking at her… he had never looked at her quite that way before.
"Careful," she said. "Your mandible is almost on the floor." But her heart wasn't in the taunt. He hadn't said anything, hadn't shifted from where he stood and she felt strangely uncomfortable because of it. "Did I do it wrong?" she asked, adjusting the belt and staring down at herself. Garrus crossed to her in two quick strides, slid his hand behind her neck and kissed her. He pulled back slowly. Now her heart was beating quickly.
His eyes held hers and he said "No, you didn't do anything wrong. You're perfect."
/././././././././././././././././././././
Shepard walked alongside Garrus through another series of elegant hallways, lost in thought. She couldn't decide if she should be pissed that Atala got onto her ship again without Shepard or anyone else the wiser, or deeply grateful that she had indeed solved her wardrobe problems. The Turian robes she wore swirled softly around Shepard as she walked down the hall, and as Shepard passed a wall set with cracked mirrors she couldn't help but appreciate the female's taste.
Shepard wore a belted jacket that fell to just above her knee in the front and trailed nearly to the floor in the back. It lay over a pair of closefitting but extremely comfortable pants. The material was one she had never worn before, and didn't know the name of, come to think of it, but had felt on nearly all of Garrus' garments. It was soft, but strong and seemed to possess a unique ability to stretch and conform to almost any shape. Shepard could only imagine it must have been specially developed to accommodate Turians' strangely sweeping legs and the spines that rose up from the back of their legs. The collar of the jacket was strangely open, probably due to the carapace collar that all Turians were born with. For her human form, this meant that the collar didn't reach anywhere near her neck, but rested just below the tops of her shoulders and collarbone. The amount of bare skin made her uncomfortable at first, but the strange malleable material moved only with her and not on its own accord, leaving her still feeling secure and confident. It was elegant, but the lines of the robe, the way the sleeves and the pant legs hugged her muscular form, and her scars gleaming in the evening light, left no chance of mistaking her for anything but a warrior. Her long hair, which she had left down (to Garrus' delight) tickled her back and shoulders, the red strands gleaming against the deep teal of the robes.
She had mixed feelings about the fact that the robes fit perfectly and she could tell that it wasn't just due to the cooperative material. A note in the bottom of the box had expressed that Atala regretted the hostility of their first meeting and that she hoped this could be a sign of the goodwill that she hoped could exist between them. It also detailed that she had used her nearly limitless access to the Normandy's computer to get Shepard's armor measurements and used them to have the garment tailored, hoping that it might provide a diplomatic aid during her time on Palaven. She also commented that the color would likely pair well with Shepard's Quarian Ta'hal, if Shepard found herself at all cold in the winter months. The detail about the Ta'hal pissed Shepard off and confirmed what she had suspected: that Atala had straight-up been snooping around her ship. She desperately hoped Kasumi and Atala never met.
He caught Garrus also eyeing her reflection, and elbowed him. "Look, Shepard," he said, swatting her hand away, "You don't understand how good you look. If you'd looked like this during the war the Reapers would have dropped dead… cuz you're that gorgeous."
"Ewwww!" She said, punching him in the arm.
"Ow! Watch it, human." He said, rubbing his arm. "I'm not in armor and you're in Palaven gravity. We haven't done anything particularly physical yet, but trust me, you literally don't know your own strength."
"Oh, sure," Shepard snorted, "and that's going to be your excuse the next time I pin you in a sparring match?"
"Oh, absolutely." he said. He spotted a door at the end of the winding hall and said, slightly tense. "We're here."
The building they had flown to was not actually the Vakarian residence, but temporary housing in an abandoned building that many involved in the Rebuilding were using. Garrus' home had been destroyed in the Reaper attack; actually, the whole quarter of Prometra where he had grown up had been reduced to a smoldering crater of ash. Shepard had asked where the Turians who had lived in the now empty building were. He'd blinked at her for a moment before answering hollowly "They're dead."
Shepard knew that the Turians were suffering from personnel shortages in their efforts to rebuild. She also hoped that their species wouldn't be facing population trouble in the coming decades. It was so strange to be here after visiting Rannoch. All species had gained the right to continue to live in the war; something infinitely precious, but easily taken for granted. She found it strangely ironic that the Krogan and Quarians, two races deemed too young and inferior to have seats on the Council, were the ones who had emerged from the war with more to celebrate than any of the races represented by it.
At the end of the hall there was a door being guarded by a young female officer. "General Vakarian and Commander Shepard here for dinner with the Chief." Garrus said as the officer saluted him.
"I will let Chief Vakarian know you are here. Please wait, sir." Garrus nodded and the officer stepped inside.
Garrus turned to Shepard. "I want to say in advance that I'm sorry." He said, straightening his clothes with the fastidiousness she had usually seen him reserve for his precious sniper rifles.
Shepard frowned. "For what?" she asked.
"For whatever the hell happens on the other side of that door." Garrus said darkly. The door in question opened and the officer beckoned them both inside.
They stepped into a large but comfortably appointed apartment. Cozy looking couches were arranged directly before Garrus and Shepard, looking out on the wall of windows to their right. Shepard could tell that the views must have been stunning once, and the mountains she could glimpse silhouetted against the setting sun were magnificent, but the carnage of the buildings neighboring this one was heartbreaking. On the other end of the large space was a sizable dining table set for four at one end. Chief Vakarian emerged from a doorway that must lead to a kitchen. He carried a bottle of wine, which he began opening with his talons - Shepard noted this with interest and more than a little admiration and jealousy.
"Come on over here and sit down." he called from across the cavernous space. "Dinner should be ready in five." He eyed them as Garrus and Shepard drew near, nodding approvingly at Shepard's Turian robes. Shepard tried very hard, and failed, to not care about his reaction. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. "Good to see the two of you clean up fairly well." He said as they neared the table. "Commander," he added, nodding to the seat to his right. Shepard noticed that he had sat her in the place reserved for the guest of honor according to human customs. She nodded in thanks and sat, careful of the trailing back of the robe.
Gazing at the table before her, she was suddenly deeply grateful for the hours and hours of galactic etiquette classes she had been forced to sit through in order to become a Commander. She sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the white-haired, mustachioed, visor wearing Major Salvador Facio, her instructor and Chief Protocol Advisor for the Alliance. He had paid particular attention to detail in covering the dining etiquette of each of the Council races. She had deeply resented it at the time, but now it was going to save her.
Her plate was surrounded by three sets of five knives placed to either side and above the plate, and a stiletto-like ten inch needle lay horizontally across the plate. She thought she vaguely remembered what to do with about half of the deadly dining implements before her, which was pretty good, but most importantly she remembered the most valuable piece of advice and the hail mary approach Major Facio had drilled into their heads; ask the host a complicated but polite question and carefully watch the guest who's physiology suggested they had the most virile appetite, as they would likely begin eating the moment they could, then follow along.
Of those taking part in the "family dinner" Garrus was likely the best option for her dining guide. She caught herself desperately hoping he used his manners during this meal and wondered what her life was coming to, that such a thought even crossed her mind. He had taken the seat to her left, without invitation, and was pouring himself a glass of wine.
"You know, Commander," Castis said, shaking her from trying to recall what to do with the large and heavily serrated blade in the middle of the set to her left, "I actually had the pleasure of meeting your Mother many years ago."
Garrus coughed up his wine and Castis frowned down the table at his son.
"Really?" Shepard asked. She had no idea what to say to that.
"Yes," Castis continued, to Shepard's deep gratitude. "I was still working in C-Sec when she was serving on the SSV Kilimanjaro. It had docked at the Citadel for a day or two to resupply and drop off some human diplomat or other. She was serving as an executive officer at the time if I recall correctly. She actually got dragged into my office with a bloody nose." Garrus was watching his father, seemingly entranced by the story. "A rather badly bruised Batarian was trying to get her arrested for assault, but it turned out that your mother had wound up witnessing an armed robbery and decided she needed to take matters into her own hands."
Garrus chuckled. "Sounds like the kind of Shepard I know."
"It certainly does, doesn't it?" Castis said and took a long sip of wine.
Shepard had no idea if the behavioral similarities alluded to were a good or bad thing. She was spared thinking of a response by a familiar voice calling from the other room.
"Dad," Shepard heard the Turian spy call petulantly. "I can't believe you're serious about serving the red with the carachi. It would be one thing if we had fiend steaks but you have to have carachi with white." There was a banging noise from the other room. "And whoever used to live here has a forty two and a thirty eight Spirits Winds. I think I remember reading the forty-two was excellent." Garrus rolled his eyes and was about to whisper something to Shepard when he heard his sister say his name. "Besides, if Garrus is actually going to make it, you can't insult him with a sub-par wine pairing. Based on the Normandy's manifest, he must really be struggling with the food on that ship. I'm surprised that Commander Shepard let a random, non-Alliance general put three hundred pounds of dexteros food on her ship, even if they have served together for a while. It's not like he's going to stay on it long now that the war is over."
Shepard turned to Garrus and hissed, "You stored how much Quarian food on my ship?"
There was another bang of cupboards in the other room, "I'll bet you a thousand credits he was just trying to bring back some Rannoch delicacies and dodge customs again."
"I don't know about that," Castis called, looking directly at Shepard and Garrus. "I think Garrus probably has a more legitimate reason for that kind of a stockpile."
"Nah, you're just getting sentimental in your old age." Atala said with a cackle, the sound of footsteps grew louder. Shepard raised her eyebrows at Garrus. "So, am I opening the forty-two or the thirty-eight?" Atala asked, stepping at last into the dining room. She froze in the doorway the moment she saw Shepard. Atala's eyes flicked rapidly from her father to her brother, and back again to the surprise Alliance Commander sitting at her dining room table.
Shepard gave her a wolf's smile. "Evening Kabalim Vakarian, it's a pleasure to see you twice in one day."
The Kabalim, despite being an elite espionage agent, seemed to be struggling to recover from the dinner-time human ambush. Finally she painted a smile on her face and nodded to her father, placing the two bottles of white wine on the table. "Chief Vakarian, would you excuse me a moment?" Castis nodded, his face impassive. "General," Atala said, addressing Garrus. "Would you mind assisting me with something?"
"Certainly." Garrus said, rising from the table and following his sister from the room, leaving Shepard alone with Chief Vakarian.
There was a moment of silence, then an eruption of muffled yelling.
Shepard turned to Castis. "She wasn't aware I was joining you?"
Castis took a sip of wine. "I understand that Atala boarded your ship unannounced earlier today and got the jump on you." He shrugged. "I thought that perhaps… how do you humans put it? You might enjoy seeing the shoe on the other foot?" Shepard could barely believe the Turian's duplicity. She didn't know if she should be flattered or wary, but she knew she would not enjoy being on the opposite side of his wrath or wit. "I also thought," he added "it might be a small way to begin apologizing for being so… abrupt in my questions earlier today."
"Your reasoning made perfect sense, Chief Vakarian." she said. "I have no illusions about what a difficult position Palaven is in right now."
He nodded to her, then stood up and retrieved the wine his daughter had left further down the table. "White or red, Shepard?" Castis asked.
Thank the Spirits. She needed a drink. "Red, please." She answered. Castis gave her an approving half smile. Then they both looked towards the doorway to the kitchens as raised voices echoed out to them.
"Would you be so kind as to point me towards a restroom?" Shepard asked quickly.
Castis gave her a knowing look and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. "Oh, just through there, Commander."
Shepard stood, leaning close to a door just down a hallway from the kitchen where an officer in a chef's coat was clearly killing time until the Vakarians settled down enough to eat. The officer had immediately pointed her in the direction of the yelling issuing from behind him and continued scrolling through his tablet. There were several dishes over a very low heat, and Shepard had the distinct impression that he was highly experienced with these kinds of evenings. She frowned as she strained to hear through the door, irritated that she was not in her armor as it was equipped with several types of monitoring tech that would have been quite useful at the moment. She settled for pressing her ear to the door.
/././././././././././././././././././././
The minute the door to the small sitting room closed, Atala rounded on Garrus.
"What the hell is she doing here?!" she said in panic.
"Having dinner." he said coolly. "What does it look like?"
"I can see that, you idiot!" She snapped. "But why is Commander Moria Shepard," she said Shepard's name with pained reverence, "The freaking badass Spectre who doesn't take shit from anyone and took out the Reapers, who's pilot I threatened today, sitting at our dinner table?"
"Our father invited her."
"And neither of you told me?!" She roared. "The savior of the freaking galaxy, who probably already thinks I'm a psycho, is coming to dinner and neither of you assholes thought to mention it?"
Garrus spread his hands. "Look, I didn't know you were unaware of her being here until we heard you talking about the wine."
"We…" Atala replied weakly. She buried her head in her hands. "She heard all that? Fucking spirits, I'm gonna die. Oh hell, why didn't I die in the war? Then this would never have happened. It would be so much better!"
Garrus crossed his arms, "You're the one who boarded an Alliance ship and held the pilot at gunpoint." he said unsympathetically.
She glared at him. "I was following the current defense protocols and found a ship with heavy Cerberus markers, then found your name on the computer along with extensive medical records on you."
"We were at war and I took some hits." he said hotly. "Of course there are going to be medical records."
"Those kinds of records wouldn't be problematic, Garrus, but these were: regular health checkups, just… observational notes of your appetite, apparent recovery, lung capacity, carapace integrity after something called "strand interaction". That's not normal medbay stuff."
"Commander Shepard's medic Dr. Chakwas is a little… over protective of me-"
"There was an STI screening and sexual health report!"
Garrus flushed. "Did you really have to yell that?" he growled.
"It looked bad, Garrus. And with the reports my department has been getting on Brutes and Marauders… and now she's here! In our house! Listening to me bitch about wine! Why was she invited to dinner?
"She-"
"Why is she at our freaking table? And wearing the robes?" She gave her brother a desperate, angry look. "Why is she wearing the robes!? They were supposed to fix this!"
"Really?" Asked Garrus, "A gift that clearly showed you were poking around her cabin, on the ship you boarded without invitation, was supposed to fix things?"
"I had to make sure she would be ok with the color!" She shook her head and glared at him. "And don't you try to pin this on me, you brought her here! Why isn't she eating peptide food at the Embassy with the rest of them? Why. Is. She. Here?" she jabbed her finger into his chest with each word.
"She's actually here to meet the rest of you, but I am regretting that choice with every passing minute today." He growled.
"And why exactly are we meeting her? She's Commander Shepard, surely she has much more important things to be doing then eating carachi with a bad wine pairing with you two uncivilized grunts."
"You board her ship like a rabid varren but you're calling me uncivilized?"
Atala laughed. "Please, you can't make it through a single Venatuza symphony without falling asleep!"
Garrus sighed and rubbed his forehead. They had been gone from the table for ages now and poor Shepard was alone with his father. "Look, Atala, you need to stop freaking out. Shepard is here to meet my family. It's fine."
"You just brought home a human; yeah, cuz Vakarians do that kind of thing. Are you trying to adopt her like that stray varren from when you were twelve? She's a human." She shook her head at him. "They're very frequent guests at the family dinner." she finished sarcastically.
"Well this human will be."
Atala froze at that, staring at Garrus.
Her mouth opened a fraction and then she said slowly. "Oh, Spirits. You brought home a human."
Garrus shifted uncomfortably. "Yes… I did."
Atala laughed wildly. "Wow, and not just any human, you brought home Commander Shepard?!" Her eyes were wide. "Spirits, I have a thousand questions: How? When did this happen? Have you-" She suddenly grabbed her brother by the collar, pulled him close and sniffed him. Her eyes got wider. He glared at her and she pushed him back, sniggering as she did. "So that's what the STI tests were for… How did you..." She frowned, "What does she see in you?"
"Plenty." He growled.
"Commander Shepard," she said again. "And my brother?" She started speaking fast again, "What's she like? Were you with her when she killed the Reaper on Tuchanka? How strong of a biotic is she really? We keep getting conflicting reports…"
"Why don't you go ask her some of that yourself?" Garrus said gently. "She's sitting right there. Go save her from Dad and show that you're not just a pilot-threatening psycho."
Atala now actually looked nervous. "Is she going to hate me for boarding her ship and threatening to shoot her pilot?"
Garrus laughed. "She sure does right now," He gave Atala a reassuring look. "But I feel like she met half her friends while they were threatening to kill someone. She usually doesn't mind and forgets all about it once you start pointing your gun on her behalf."
Atala stared at the door for a moment, then looked at Garrus. She raised her eyebrows. "You're sure about this? You've thought it through? A human?"
Garrus ground his teeth. "Yes, a human."
Atala gave him a long look and then rubbed her forehead, running her hands back and gripping the horns that swept up from her temples for a moment in frustration. She dropped her hands and looked at Garrus again before asking, her voice tense. "What are you going to do about Mom?"
