Garrus watched through a crack in the door as Shepard continued putting away the cleaned human cutlery, her slim golden fingers moving with efficiency and grace. She was making this quiet trilling noise: humming, if he remembered the correct human word for the sound, the melody lilting up and down. It was entrancing... but made him uneasy. He'd caught her doing it a few other times over the years, in moments where she thought she was alone... or at least unwatched. She'd done it at the hospital on the Citadel whenever she'd stopped to visit Ash or Thane but found them asleep or unconscious... and on the Normandy after she'd found him on Omega. After he'd taken the hit from the rocket.
The memory was hazy, blurred by medications and concussive trauma, but he remembered the sound, the melody, something warm tracing lines across his crest, and her scent heavy in the air. He'd written it off as a dream for years until he'd caught her in Ash's hospital room, her red-maned head hanging, an antique human collection of bound documents in her hands.
Her cabin on the Normandy had almost never been silent when he'd come to visit her there; some form of music was always playing, even if it was just quiet and in the background. She'd play strange selections, songs with minor keys and mournful lyrics, albums with tight harmony and strange tumbling rhythms, or overly dramatic instrumental pieces with lots of bum-bun-baaaam that started with a few instruments playing a single melody until it sounded like every spirits-damned noisemaker humans had ever invented picked up the tune as one. He had interrogated her in curiosity as to why she picked what she played but her answers were strange and maddening: "because it's awesome" being the most common. He had gotten one other answer, but wished he hadn't.
She'd been in the sparring room in the Normandy, the speakers for the ships comms hijacked and blasting out turian-deafening music with bizarre electronic sounds. She was running through striking drills on a practice dummy, altering her usual pace so that strikes landed in synchronicity with triplets in the music. He grinned and watched her like an idiot for a solid minute, completely mesmerized till the song ended, punctuated by the dummy toppling to the ground after she landed a spinning kick to its center on the last drumbeat.
Her eyes flashed wide with surprise when she saw him, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway, brows raised, and a smug grin across his thin lips.
"Uh... hi," she panted, wiping sweat-matted hair from her brow.
He snorted. "Hi," he cocked his head. "Having fun?"
She scowled. "Fuck off, Vakarian."
His grin widened, "ballet with batarians on the next mission?"
She rolled her eyes, lifting her glistening muscled arms as she fought to get ever escaping wisps of hair back into the messy bun at the back of her head. "Oh, fuck you."
He started prowling towards her. "Reggae with the Reapers?"
"You just gonna recite all the human music genres you've learned?" She asked sarcastically as she bent over to pull the dummy back to standing. The thunderous roll of a drum kit started playing and she yelled, "EDI, end playlist." Garrus tried and failed not to stare at her solid hips and the way they curved into her slim muscular core. "Doesn't Victus have more important things for you to be doing than playing the ABC's of war and human music?"
He was inches from her when she stood back up and she noticed instantly, cocking her head to one side and staring up at him, teasing questions and a challenge in her eyes, her face otherwise a stern mask. He grinned wolfishly. "Krogan and K-Pop?"
Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. Then her lip twitched. The mask broke and she snorted loudly, eyes sparkling. "Can you imagine Wrex's reaction to a K-Pop vid?" Sweat was glistening on her collarbone, biceps, and a sliver of skin between her tank and hips. He couldn't keep his hands off her anymore. A taloned finger trailed along that sliver of skin above her shorts and his hands came to rest at the small of her back, drawing her a little closer to him.
"Oh, didn't you know?" he said with a grin, "K-Pop is the genophage." She laughed but slapped his arm. "Oh, I'm serious," he said. "You humans think it's a thing you came up with, but us stupid turians actually sent the first batch of it to Earth by accident, then we got our aim right and got it to Tuchanka."
She hit his chest plates again. "One," she said, admonishing him with a raised finger, "that is a horrible and dark joke-"
"Which you loved." He said with narrowed, accusing eyes.
That lip twitched again. "Yes, but I cured the genophage, so I get one laugh at something terrible!"
"Excuse me, I was there with the galaxy's most terrifying thresher maw, too! You can't-"
But she cut him off. "And two, I happen to like K-Pop. So, how dare!"
"Your taste in music makes absolutely no sense," he said with a shake of his head.
"You're one to talk. I happen to know you have opera and krogan rock on the same playlist for the gallery."
"Yeah," he said, "but that's because the tempo between the two songs increases exactly at a rate of-"
"Fucking gods!" she said, shoving him back a few steps. "You arranged it because of a calculation!"
"It's the most efficient way to-"
"Oh my Gods, are there any feelings in that craggy carapace of yours?" she demanded, crossing to him and rapping on the chest plates partially exposed by his tank top for emphasis.
He growled, grabbing the wrist of the politely assaulting hand, and pulled it upwards so that she was drawn onto her toes. He grazed her nose with his own. "Oh, there are definitely feelings in here, so better be careful, Shepard."
Her eyes held his own for a moment, then lowered to his lips, "Oh," she said slowly, deliberately releasing breath with the word so that it tickled across his lips, "I think most of those feelings might be on the lower decks, if you get my drift."
Mischief flashed in her eyes and she suddenly pulled against his grip, tightening her core as she did to swing herself up onto him, her knees settling quickly over his hip-spurs. He caught her easily, hands squeezing her backside perhaps a little more than was necessary to support her. She shifted her pelvis against his deliberately and he coughed as he felt every nerve in that area respond. "Well- uah... er... ah-ah-ah... they are now," he said, somewhat breathlessly.
She chuckled wickedly.
"You suck," he said with a glare.
"Is that an order, General Vakarian?" she said, pure evil in her eyes.
"Mmmmm, maybe later. But you are not good at following orders so I don't know that I would want to entrust you with such a... delicate operation that way." He butted his forehead against hers gently. "I could order you to have better, less deafening taste in music..."
"Oh, my gods!" She said, throwing her head back in frustration. "That was great music. Like, some of the greatest."
He shook his head. "It's loud and angsty, and the tempo kept changing, and it's up and then down-"
"Because it's full of feeling!"
"And what're all the electronic sounds? It's like someone trying to restart a computer or very short siren bursts!"
She stared at him incredulously. "It was called a synthesizer and it's the greatest musical invention of all time."
"Says who?" he demanded, shaking his head incredulously.
She was ready to yell her answer, mouth open, eyes burning and brow furrowed, but then she stopped and released a long breath. "My... my dad." She said finally, her voice rather quiet.
"Ah." He felt like his heart had plummeted to somewhere near the floor.
"Yeah... it's... it's pretty ancient, but he would have been a music historian in another life."
Garrus didn't know what to do or think. It was the most she'd ever talked about her father.
She wasn't meeting his eyes and there was suddenly tension between her muscles and his. He gently lowered her to the ground, his hands trailing on her arms, but she stepped out of his grip. She crossed to the practice dummy and started pushing it across the floor.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably, "It... it sounds like he might have been good at that... he made sure you knew about it." He could see tension in the line of her shoulders. "Another person to keep the record alive."
She seemed to stiffen more at those words. Shit.
Something in her gaze had gone empty when she turned back towards him. "What they made isn't important," she said quietly, wiping her brow with her wrist, "it's why they made it." She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "Do you want to shower later? I was going to now but I should check in with Hackett and see how preparations are going for the Sword Fleet."
He took a few steps forward, fighting the humm of concerned subvocals. "They can wait for you to shower, Moria."
She gave him a pained half smile. "The Reapers are on Earth." Her jaw tensed. "They can't wait for anything."
And now, what seemed like a lifetime later, but was only months, he wondered why she was humming. What was similar to being at the bedside of an injured squadmate? He fought back an anxious subvocal of his own. Had the food from her planet been a mistake? A reminder of what had been lost?
"Garrus," He startled slightly at his father's voice, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders reflexively. His father's brow plates were drawn together as he regarded his son in what might be puzzlement but Garrus suspected was disapproval. He glanced back through the door at Shepard but then turned away again at his father's low summoning intonation.
"What is wrong?" Castis asked quietly when Garrus reached the hall where he stood, Garrus' eyes flicking back from the doorway to the dining room.
"Nothing," Garrus lied automatically, "just... excitement, stress, the usual chaos."
His father fixed him with the calculating gaze that Garrus had not missed. "Come with me." He said quietly, and turned down the hall, his long formal robes swishing quietly in the shadows.
It was a command, not a request. Garrus sighed in frustration and followed. He expected his father to turn into his study, but Castis merely walked past it to a door at the very end of the hall. A door Garrus hadn't been through in years. Using the fabric of his robe to cover his hands, Castis lifted the scarred metal bar that held the ancient wooden door closed and pushed it open gently. Garrus stopped at the threshold and his father gave him a long, expectant look. He tensed as he fought to keep the horns of his crest from tucking to his scalp in apprehension and stepped into the room. Castis closed the door behind them, once again careful to make sure no oil from his hands came in contact with the ageless door.
"You know, Shepard's a human," Garrus drawled, crossing his arms and sitting back on a hip, "her hearing is garbage. You don't need to go to these kinds of lengths to privately give me the talk about how swords going carefully into sheathes creates new turian warriors for the Hierarchy." He gave his father a mocking grin. It wasn't returned.
"The time for that conversation passed far before the two of you landed on Palaven." His father said, his back to Garrus. Castis stepped into the deep shadows at the edge of the chamber they had entered. It was the interior of a small tower on the very edge of this wing of the house. It was completely empty except for low shelves that ran along the walls and racks bolted just above them. The chamber occupied the whole of the tower, stretching five stories up to the pyramid-shaped ceiling. Metal bars spiraled up the walls of the tower and a group of chains of varying lengths hung from the center of the ceiling like some austere dark chandelier. Arched windows punctuated the wall, spiraling upwards, echoing the path of the metal bars, moonlight cascading into the chamber in slanted shafts of silver. "Besides," Castis said from the shadows, "the two of you cannot produce an heir. Though I'm not yet sure if that is a stroke of luck or misfortune."
Garrus' mandibles tensed and he felt his crest flair in agitation. Heir. So that's where this conversation was going. "You might have to look to Atala or one of the cousins for that." Garrus said quietly.
"You know perfectly well what Atala wants," Garrus could see Castis' eyes gleaming from the dark. "And they are all second cousins."
"Who have all served admirably." Garrus' brow furrowed. "Why are we having this conversation?" He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, "Is there more you and Atala have been keeping from me? Is Mom-"
"Her health is stable." Castis interrupted.
A sigh of relief escaped Garrus' lips. "Then why-"
"Did you pick her to make Rafia revoke your duty as first born?"
Garrus froze, roaring fury filling his ears. He shook slightly as he glared at his father. "Are you really asking me that?" he demanded in a low snarl.
Castis appeared in a shaft of moonlight, hands behind his back, studying his son as he prowled along the wall of the circular chamber. "You can't deny it is exactly what this looks like to anyone who knows you."
Garrus' nostrils flared as his father vanished into the shadows once again. He tensed a muscle by his right eye and began tracking his father's heat signature through his visor. "Anyone who knows me... " he growled quietly, "would know that I would never use another person that way."
"Doing so wouldn't stop the two of you from getting something out of it - the alien fetish has been around for-"
"There is no 'alien fetish' in our relationship." Garrus hissed. "And I don't care if you're my father, the second of my clan, or a private on latrine duty, you will not speak of her that way."
Castis appeared for a moment in another shaft of light, his fingers rubbing at his brow, then vanished into darkness once again.
"What the hell is this anyway?" Garrus spat. "You welcomed her here. You invited her to family dinner. You're supporting our proposal to the Council."
"I have no issue with your or the Commander's political agenda... you both could improve your... tactics, but what you're asking is logical."
"Then what are you-"
Castis stepped into the light again, his arms crossed. "You're tense and unbalanced."
"I wonder why I'd be-"
"You need to center yourself."
Garrus was going to crack a tooth, he was clenching his jaw so tightly. He released a long breath. "Yeah, you know what, I should go do that."
He made to turn towards the door but before he could so much as take a step his father said, "How about a little chorogladium?"
Garrus stopped and raised a brow. Castis disappeared from the shaft of light again and a moment later a low cobalt blue light, the perfect match to the ink across their faces, flared along the wall. The strips of light wove intricate clan patterns all the way around the room, casting the five racks of weapons on the wall into stark relief.
Shit. Garrus thought. "Ahh... " he started lamely, his mouth hanging open slightly, "I don't know... it's... it's been a while."
His father snorted. "Forgotten everything while you were running around the Citadel?"
Garrus felt his face flush. "No," he said stubbornly, his mind desperately searching for an out. "But I have... different ways of centering myself."
"There is nothing as effective." Castis said, slowly slipping out of the outer layer of his robe and laying it along one of the lowest bars that circled the tower, folding it carefully as he did. "Traditionally, you and I would take a pass when you were on leave." Castis said in a slightly quieter tone, his back to his son.
Garrus silently cursed every spirit on this blasted planet. "Would you... would you accept a short bout?" He asked, clenching the talons of his toes in unease and frustration. "I... don't really want Moria to be alone for too long tonight." He said. His father nodded, and Garrus sighed and crossed to the nearest bar on the wall, unfastening his tunic as he did and tossing it quickly over the bar. He bent and began removing his boots. "The meeting with... the new Councilor wasn't exactly easy."
"She is a fine woman." Castis said.
Garrus glanced over his shoulder, seeing that his father had already removed his shirt and boots and was gracefully flowing through a series of all too familiar martial stretches.
"Woman?" Garrus asked with a raised brow. "Don't let Mom hear you using human monikers."
Castis shrugged, "she would not refer to herself as a female and deserves the courtesy of the correct form of address, as a member of any other species would." He stretched an arm over his head. "Your mother can even manage to do that-"
"Then why can't you challenge her to leave Moria-"
His father held up a hand and to Garrus' disgust he felt himself reflexively go silent, "-I was going to add... " Castis said firmly, "that she can do that unless Cerberus enters the conversation." He released a long sigh. "I still don't understand how out of the billions of humans flitting around out there that you had to pick one of the what... several hundred? That happened to work for Cerberus."
"We were never really working for them." Garrus said quietly.
But his father either didn't hear him or didn't care to respond. His next sweeping stretch carried him into the pool of silver light that was now in the center of the room, falling through the skylight above. Less numerous scars gleamed on Castis' body. His paler carapace hid most of the white scar tissue till he turned to just the right angle and the twisting ribbons of their black shadows appeared. They were complete opposites in that way as Garrus' scars showed lines of white hot metal across his darker carapace.
His father halted as Garrus stepped into the pool of light as well, the older turian's mandible trembling for a moment.
"What?" Garrus asked, crossing his arms self consciously.
"There's an old saying... " Castis said quietly, "dark are the days when the young bear more scars than the old."
They were both silent for a moment.
"You gotta quit hanging out with Atala," Garrus said suddenly. "She's gonna make you sound like the old crazy turian that lives in the cave and yells at everyone about the ancients."
To Garrus' surprise Castis laughed. "So your great-aunt Zeverina?"
Garrus chuckled, "Exactly, but without the killer apartment on the Citadel."
His father's eyes twinkled. "That place has so much rusted tech in it it might as well be a cave."
Garrus grinned. "I mean, you're not wrong, unless she finds out you said that, in which case you were wrong and it is all highly essential."
He walked towards a set of wooden blades with leather straps on one of the racks, picked one up and was about to buckle it to his forearm when his father called, "The real ones. You're not a kip, Garrus."
Garrus gritted his teeth, set the wooden blade down and reluctantly approached the rack of lethally sharp metal blades on the next rack over. He saw his father buckling on a set from the rack directly across the room from him. He frowned. "You're... you're not using the Seconds set?"
"They're your sisters." Castis said mildly.
Garrus glanced at the set of blades in question. They were heavily coated in dust, though he thought he could make out one section where the dust seemed slightly less thick. "It... it doesn't look like she's really using them... "
"She was going to." Castis said, still not looking at Garrus.
"She was joining you for chorogladium?" Garrus said in surprise.
"She was going to." Castis repeated.
Garrus's brow furrowed at the response as he belted one of the long curving blades to each of his forearms. "Going to?"
"We... we managed to stretch together." His father admitted hesitantly. "And then we ended up yelling and she stalked out. And I couldn't get her to come back."
Garrus' brows raised. "Oh. Wow." He began flexing his arms and making practiced sweeping gestures with them to direct the path of the blades. "Stretching?"
Castis was quiet for a moment. "Her form was incorrect."
Garrus repressed a laugh, clearing his throat instead. "Of course it was."
"You don't want to use your set?" Castis asked, making a few lithe and deadly sweeps of the blades strapped to his arms and glancing at the rack of elegant blades in the center of the chamber, directly across from the door.
"Those aren't mine." Garrus said casually.
"They will be." Castis said sternly.
Garrus adjusted one of the leather straps. "I don't intend to use them." He said slowly.
"You say that now." His father challenged.
"I've felt that way for a long time." He tried to shift the conversation. "Besides they're Moms."
Castis gave the blades a long look. "They were." His mandible twitched. "You should have seen her move with them... " his cool blue eyes sparkled. "She... she was lethal grace and a singing wind and... and very... captivating."
"Ok this is sounding like the beginning of the sword and sheath conversation that I thought we decided it was too late to have. I was kind of hoping to dodge a mental scarring bullet here... "
"Enough of that." Castis admonished. "Now," he sank elegantly into a very low crouch, blade-edged arms crossed before him. "Let's see if you actually managed to remember any of your training."
Garrus bit back twenty years of irritation and bent into a crouch of his own, one arm out in front of him, the other arcing over his head.
Castis raised a brow. "High guard?"
"Dad," Garrus asked tursely, "do you want anyone to join you in chorogladium?"
His father scowled. "Fine, don't fix your mistakes. You'll just have to deal with what comes afterwards." He released a small frustrated sigh and then said somberly "Sabie."
"Pluvis," Garrus said, sinking deeper into his crouch.
His father's eyes gleamed, "Consendi!"
And the two males sprang into the air.
Garrus hurled himself backwards, arcing through the air, reaching with his legs and taloned toes till he caught two of the bars spiraling around the room in their grip. He stabilized himself on the wall with one hand, the opposite arm up in a guard across his face. His eyes darted around the room, and he quietly cursed the uneven lighting, craning his head to check the dark corners with the help of his visor. He heard a chain jingle and looked up, only to immediately feel something sweep past his face, knocking his visor from it and sending it tumbling to the floor.
"Dad!"
"Tech in combat is a crutch." His father barked from somewhere overhead.
"Do you have any idea how many credits I put into that -shit!" He threw himself across the chamber as the uneven light suddenly glinted off the silver that was plummeting straight for him.
"Credits don't keep you alive." Castis said flatly. "The only things that keep you alive are-"
"-sharp eyes, sharp ears, and sharp reflexes." Garrus panted in irritation, springing to another place defensively on the wall when he thought he heard a rattling chain again.
"Tuians do not retreat," Garrus swung to the side as his father narrowly missed him again. He couldn't see a spirits damned thing in here. "Turians do not duck."
Garrus sensed movement once again and sprang upwards, leaping into the dangling chains with grasping toes and quickly scaling as high as he could. "We counter and we flank." He whispered.
Castis had to be below him. Too little time had passed since he descended past Garrus and the angle of the moonlight now worked in his favor, shining almost directly downward. He poured all his focus into watching the shadows and listening for the shift of talon on stone ready to throw himself towards the slightest suggestion of the older male's position. He thought he saw something shift in the darkness by the door and focused there, willing his pupils to dilate and then roared in pain and threw a hand to his eyes as a silver blade flashed into a shaft of moonlight at the perfect angle, bouncing the light directly back into his eyes.
"Your eyes and ears are good." Castis called up to him. "Reflexes need work." Garrus cursed. "Especially if you put yourself in a position where your opponent knows exactly where you are. Shadow was a dead giveaway son, basically told me what to do next."
"And this is why Atala was the smart one and yelled at you and left." Garrus grumbled to himself. He descended in short angled bursts, keeping to the shadows.
"I wasn't aware Atala and Zyan were to be part of the Asking." Castis voice rumbled from the dark. Garrus felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck and turned just in time to parry a cut made by his father as he swung across the tower on one of the large chains.
Garrus gritted his teeth. "It's easier to involve Atala in a specific way than try to get her to leave well enough alone." Garrus panted. He saw the corner of a horn catch the moonlight and threw himself towards his father, only to have both of his blows deflected with ease, chains rattling as he disappeared once more.
"It was a good distraction for Zyan given Hecate's state. And he rounded off the numbers."
"And if someone saw he and Atala were biotics?" His father's voice asked quietly. Garrus struggled to tell what part of the tower it had come from over the still clinking chains.
"City council closed off the gardens." Garrus said, "and we spread the word that we would be using explosives as part of the demolition on the stairs and statues." A chain swung into the shadows where Garrus lurked and he flinched drawing a blade up in front of his face in a flash. But there was nothing to guard against. He repressed a growl of frustration. "And they kept their helmets on."
"Zyan is not one who usually blends in."
"We were careful." Garrus insisted. There was silence in the shadows, Garrus stared into the darkness, his gut clenching slightly, "I wouldn't risk them like that. I know having their biotics revealed to the public would be... " there was a lump in his throat. "I wouldn't do that." He insisted.
Then his father rushed from the shadows below him. Garrus swung downward, trying to use gravity to his advantage but his father caught his blades in a cross-guard and swept them back with little effort before grabbing a chain in one talloned foot and swinging out of sight.
"Do not forget, Garrus." Castis said in a low growl, "this is Palaven. It is not the Citadel." Well aware of that, thanks. "And the others? They all realize what they're doing?"
Blades clanged off one another and sparks flared as Garrus misjudged a leap, dragging his tallon painfully across stone till he managed to catch a rail once again. "They're all serving citizens." Garrus grunted. He took a moment to shake out his foot, nerves singing in irritation. "They can make an informed decision."
"And they were informed that the leader of their clan did not stand with you?" Castis' bodiless voice asked, echoing off the stones around them.
Garrus felt an irritated growl building in his chest. "No one had a problem when they saw Atala was with me."
There was total silence in the chamber and then a blade whipped by Garrus face, the end catching the tip of his crest painfully as he tried to whip his head out of the way. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Garrus barked, holding onto a rail with one hand while he rubbed his crest with the other."
"That question should be directed at you."
"What?"
"Everything that you're risking-"
"Is for the safety of my mate."
"If you keep this up she's not going to live long enough to be your mate."
And the last bit of control Garrus had been holding onto slipped away. He snarled, leapt erratically around the tower, heard the exasperated sigh that his entire life had heralded the delivery of some reprimand or correction, and vaunted across the center of the chamber, blades spinning wildly. Castis just managed to block them both, and swiftly drew up a leg, catching his son in the side with a splayed foot, and with a shove, sent Garrus flying back once more.
Garrus let the kick's momentum carry him back to the dangling chains. He caught them and viciously twisted his core, causing the long dangling bits of chain below him to whip back toward the wall and his father.
Garrus heard his father snarl in pain and then a grunt as he dropped to the floor of the chamber, Garrus landing in a crouch before him a moment later.
Castis glared at him as he shook out a hand. "That's not what those are for."
Garrus bared his teeth. "Been on the Citadel. Forgot."
Castis narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. "You're acting like this is personal."
Garrus swung at his father with the blade on his right arm. "Moria is my mate. Damn right it's personal."
Castis parried with both blades, using them to throw Garrus past him towards the opposite wall. His father frowned as Garrus steadied himself and began circling. "You keep using different names for her."
"Sometimes... " He caught one of his fathers blades with a strike from below, throwing it up and stabbing forward with the other, only to have it deflected with a sweep of his fathers forearm . "She has to be Shepard." Garrus said, panting as he pressed the pace of his attacks. "Sometimes.." His father pressed back. Striking both of Garrus' blades at the same time and forcing his son to leap backwards. "She needs to be reminded she's still Shepard." Castis threw one of Garrus' blades upwards and the males slid into each other, their two cross guards locked together. Garrus' eyes burned above the crossed blades. "But she is always Moria."
Castis shifted his weight, sending them into a spin and disengaging their blades.
"I am glad that you could have the joy of an Asking with your clan present," his expression was weary, "but you have to stop pressing for her to wear our mark."
"Other species have been gifted a clanmark-"
"Moria will not-"
"Even other humans have!" Garrus shouted.
"Not with a mate who should be first to lead his clan or a family with our history with humans!"
"Mom has to see-"
Castis slashed wildly at his son, teeth bared, "they killed my family too, Garrus. My blood fell to human bullets the same as your mothers, so don't you dare lay all this at her feet." His mandibles flared in anger, "but my assignments spared me the horrors she endured." He sighed heavily, "And I can recognize that Moria is not responsible for the sins of her species." He gave his son a pitying look, "Atala can bind the two of you. We can have a small ceremony, and if you are so hung up on marks and no marks... " he closed his eyes for a moment, "Atala can perform the cleanse and you can both go unmarked."
Garrus just stared at him.
Castis shook his head wearily. "Some of this goes farther than your mother too." He ran a hand along his crest. "She has no clan to offer us. Her mother is her only immediate family, any other relations are scattered, and none have a service record."
"Her crew-"
"Are Alliance and bound by assignment, or part of her menagerie of followers who come and go as they please. That is not a clan." Castis' mandibles flared. "You cannot ask our people to stand for her when she has none to stand for us. I will see that she is recognized as your mate but she will have no marks and no battalion to call to her aid."
They stared at one another for a long moment and then Garrus said quietly. "A battalion of twelve have already kneeled."
It was like Castis' face had become carved from stone. His eyes were bright with rage. "A non-turian has never commanded-"
Garrus lifted his chin. "They all fought with her. The choice was theirs" "His eyes gleamed. "A second stands with us, a battalion follow her -"
"But you have no Admiralty or higher to grant her ink." Castis snapped. "And that is not going to change."
"Fine, we'll ask outside of Vakarian upper ran-"
Garrus never saw the leg coming. One moment he was standing, the next he was lying on the stone floor with his father's foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground, the point of one of the blade wings digging into the underside of his jaw.
"You will do no such thing." Castis snarled. "You have dragged our family and the mate that you claim to want to protect into a dark enough cabathi den already." The pressure of the blade against Garrus' hide increased slightly. Garrus tried to tilt his head back a little more. "Your sister and I will make sure she has legal rights and protections as you mate. You've thrown these bleeding-heart, pyjak-brained relations of yours to the varen, and one of them is a mixed breed and a biotic to boot, so you can stop meuling about her safety. But it has to stop there."
Garrus' breath was coming in sharp, short, enraged bursts. His father held him there for what felt like an age and then lowered his blade, removed his foot and sank to crouch as Garrus pushed himself up onto his elbows.
"We cannot be fighting among ourselves." Castis said quietly. "Spirits, Garrus, I'm begging you to listen to me." He stared at the rack of weapons his mate had wielded. "I'll make my peace whatever else you do. But do not do this to your clan. Do not do this to your sister." His eyes met Garrus' again, "Don't do this to your Moria."
/./././././././././././././././././././
The nearly complete set of human dining implements was safely enclosed in its case, ready to be returned to the lodgings of their representatives for the summit in two days time. Moria frowned at the hole in the wall of the dining room where the knife Garrus dodge had been lodged, unsure if she should try to do something about it. However, she figured a household of sharp horned, talloned, and toothed turians must see its fair share of scrape and stabb wear and tear, Maximus probably would have a way to deal with it. Or maybe it would be taken care of of in their version of spring cleaning? What would that be? Spring... sanding? Filling? Filing?
She yawned and started making her way out of the dining room and back up the stairs, lips twitching slightly at a plethora of worn groves and scrapes that tickled the palm of her scarred hand as it glided up the railing. She was about to head down the hall to her and Garrus rooms, plotting ways to lure him into the bathtub with her when a low electronic alert sounded from speakers hiding somewhere in the atrium: Clan Proximity Alert. Classification Delta Crosswinds. Identified Parties Vakarian, Nera Rafine. Vakarian, Cerialis Trefenta. Threat Level: zero. Single unidentified personel. Threat Level three.
Shepard recognized the recorded voice as the same one that was used by Bloodhound. Threat level three? She stilled instinctively, hearing the slight clang of hurried, booted footsteps in the hallway below her. Shepard dropped into a crouch and slipped into the shadows in the corner of the landing. Staring down at the front door through one of the pointed arching gaps in the low wall that ran along the landing edge.
"Bloodhound, bring up atrium lights." she heard Atala's voice call. The spy stepped into Shepards view and skipped up to the door, laying a hand against the access panel. The doors swung open, moonlight spilling forward to mix with the warm golden glow of the lights on either side of the doors.
Atala's head cocked quickly to the side, her voice bright with excitement. "Well hi! This is unexpected!"
Two female turians stood in the doorway, one with a carapace that was nearly black, the other a tawny gold. Like most of the Vakarians she had met - Zyan excluded - their clan tattoos were of bright cobalt. However, unlike the cousins who had joined Garrus and Atala for the asking, who all bore slightly different variations of the Vakarian mark, these two had tattoos that were identical to Garrus and Atala's.
The golden carapaced tuian shrugged. "Sorry to ambush you."
"You know I love a good ambush," Atala said, grasping the turian by the forearm and pulling her forward so that the plates of their foreheads touched, buffing and brushing affectionately, almost like a cat. She giggled and then reached up, tapping with her talons on the forehead and cheek plates of the other female. "Well, look at you, den watcher! I could break a blade on these plates! Nera, you know I'm sure that Mom can find somewhere on the front lines for you!"
The female with Atala's hands all over her face laughed, a warm rich sound, and gently swatted Atala's hands away. "Thanks but no thanks. Just part of the perks of carrying."
"Which is why I get her now!" said the dark carapaced female.
Atala's head pulled back slightly in confusion. "Wait... you mean!"
She let out a sudden squeal of delight and immediately pounced, her attention snapping to something in the other turian's arms (Cerialis, Shepard guessed).
"Narasta -chasing-krogan-fucking-spirits!" Atala exclaimed, crouching and peeking at the thing in Cerialis' arms.
"Solana Atala Vakatian!" Nera the tawney turian said in mock outrage, "What a varren mouth in front of a moonling!"
But Cerialis waved her off, "Oh hush, she'll learn enough bad language from your father in the next few years!"
Atala didn't seem to have heard them. She was making gentle trilling noises at the infant in Ceialis' arms. "I had no idea you were done forging! Oh look at her, bright and fresh from the starfire!" Something made a small hissing noise and Atala laughed with delight. "Attitude that bites like steel too! Oh you are a Vakarian aren't you!"
A long horned shadow appeared on the floor and Shepard saw Castis step into pool of mixed light by the doorway. "Cerialis, Nera!" Castis called, a warmth in his voice that Shepard had never heard before. "What a delightful moonlit surprise."
Nera saluted, a warm smile across her face. Cerialis, moved to do the same, shifting her hold on the tuian baby in her arms but Castis places his hands on her arms stilling them, "you're doing something far more important." He said, nodding to the bundled infant. He tilted his head as he peered down at her. "Well, look at this little blessing." He raised a hand, giving Cerialis a questioning look. Cerialis nodded and he extended a finger towards the bundle, taloned tip carefully folded back so that his knuckle was presented forward. A high pitched trill sounded from the bundle and Castis' crest fanned as he echoed it in joy. "Oh, yes! Why those teeth are very sharp. Look at you, with your mothers' coloring you will look like shadows and dancing embers, won't you!"
"A little Igniata!" Atala said, smiling down at the baby. She looked up at the child's mothers. "Oh! You should so call her that!"
Nera groaned, looking up at the sky for patience. "Spirits, Atala! We are not naming her after some lame dusty legend-"
"Dusty legends are very cool!" Atala protested crossing her arms and glaring at the female, "and Igniata is like one of the coolest!"
Nera narrowed her eyes, "No."
"As a member of the clan who outranks you-"
"You can shut your trap and freeze beneath the mountains!" Nera said sweetly.
"But Igniata Vakarian is like the most badass-"
Castis elbowed his daughter out of the way. "Stop being bossy. And if you're so hung up on the name, go find a mate and forge your own child to inflict your antique sensibilities on."
Atala hissed at him, the baby made an echoing hiss.
"See! She has spark! How can you-" Castis, in a surprisingly smooth and gentle motion, swept his daughter into a headlock and placed a hand over her mouth.
"Now, we don't have long because this one," he nodded to the struggling Atala, "also bites, but to what do we owe this unexpected evening honor?"
Nera was watched Atala with amusement while Cerialis smiled at Castis and said "We know things have been... chaotic, and we apologise that we didn't make arrangements earlier," Castis waved off her apologies, "but... its technically her septstar tomorrow and our rotation had us passing through... and... "she gave a guilty shrug, "Zyan might have let it slip that Garrus was on planet for once... for the summit." Atala stopped struggling at once. Cerialis tucked her head and gave Atala and Castis an apologetic look. "We would have loved for her to be gifted name and mark by Rafia," she glanced at her mate, "like we were. But we would be honored for her to be the first Garrus welcomed to the clan. Now that he's back."
Castis released Atala, and she quickly stood straight, the brief struggle between father and daughter seemingly forgotten. Shepard saw Atala glance at her father then look back at the females, mouth open to answer.
"I'm afraid he's at the Vena Center." Castis said quickly. "I feel terrible, you just missed him." Atala was watching her father closely as he spoke. "A Commander from the human delegation was here assisting with preparations this evening and he escorted them back."
Cerialis' eyes brightened, "the one from the Normandy?" She asked in a slightly awed voice.
Castis looked at her sternly and her crest tucked a little, but then he said in mockingly somber tones, "I can neither confirm nor deny-"
"Shitspirits!" Cerialis squealed.
Atala crossed her arms. "Now who's swearing in front of the moonling!"
Cerialis stared open mouthed at Atala. "Have you met her?" She demanded excitedly. Nera, on the other hand, was scowling at her mate out of the corner of her eye.
Atala shrugged. "Uh... yeah. She's been here for a few lengthy meetings. So we've crossed paths." She shrugged, "part of why the house reeks of humans."
Nera snorted. "Good thing our Admiral's not here."
Shepard just caught the lightning look that Casits and Atala gave each other, before Atala put a hand on her hip and said brightly. "If the legend of Ignitia is too dusty for your tastes you could always name that little thing Shepard - you know for a modern legend."
"No." The word came out so quickly and viciously from Nera that Casits even seemed surprised.
Atala cocked her head and said carefully. "Not a fan?"
"Oh, ignore her." Cerialis said, rolling her eyes at her golden carapaced mate. "She spends too much time on the extranet."
But Castis' gaze was locked on Nera's face. "What's your concern?" He asked quietly. Nera's expression was defensive, mandibles tight. But Castis made a low trilling noise. "I'm asking as family. Not with rank."
Nera shifted her weight. "Too many unanswered questions." She said quietly. "And it's too soon for Vakarians to bear human names."
Castis nodded. "Wise answers."
Shepard saw something shift in Atala's expression; she turned towards the two females, laying a hand on Nera's arm. "I'm sorry Garrus isn't here. He'll be gutted he missed you. He would have been honored to and I'd try to find a time but the next few days-"
Nera waved her off, "it was worth a try. But we'll only be in Crevitalum so at starise you can-"
"I actually have a proposition for you." Castis said quickly. The new mothers looked confused. Castis tucked his arms behind his back and studied the floor. "I see no reason for her to not be marked by the Admiral."
Nera looked apologetic, "I don't think my department can spare me for the time it would take to get to SurKesh, and travel-"
"-is dangerous at the moment so it's best not to go anywhere."
They stared at him for a moment, Nera's mouth slightly open. "She's here?" Nera whispered.
If Atala was surprised by her father's revelation she showed no sign of it. "Maybe, why don't you come in and-"
"No." Castis said smoothly. He leaned in over the baby again, reaching a finger out. "The newly forged should join clans by starfire, and the night air is pleasant." He straightened and winked at Nera and Cerialis. "Give me a moment to get her."
Castis slipped out of Shepard's view. She leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to shut down feelings about things that didn't matter, that were unrelated to the summit, and protecting the galaxy and keeping the peace: things she should actually give a shit about rather than some judgmental turian and her-
"Why are we spying on Atala and a random couple from the extended family?" Whispered a voice in her ear. Shepard actually almost jumped out of her skin. She glared at Garrus who was now crouching next to her in the dark. She wasn't sure if she should be angrier at him for sneaking up on her, or herself for being distracted enough to not notice the approach of a seven foot alien predator. "Did you finally decide to kill her?" He whispered conspiratorially. "Because if you did, I'm behind you one thousand percent and have a long list of possible places to bury her body. Been making plans in that area since I was a kip." He looked at her expectantly, a very Atala-esque gleam of mischief in his bright eyes. Their icy blue cooled the embers of frustration in her heart.
"No," she whispered. "I need all the living turians I can get on my side, so despite her many crimes we gotta keep Atala alive. Ok?"
Garrus sighed dramatically and glared through one of the gaps in the wall down at his sister. "You never let me have any fun." The warm light from the atrium below cast a shaft of gold across his face, warming the usual silver grey of his carapace. Painted in these new colors, Shepard could see a few family resemblances between him and Nera in the line of his chin and mandible.
"So, if it's not to end my suffering," Garrus whispered, "why are you spying on Atala?"
Shepard bit her lip. "I didn't mean to be spying. Bloodhound announced someone was at the door and... um..I think... identified a baby as a level three potential threat?"
Garrus frowned, "A baby?"
He peered through the hole in the wall again. "Shitspirits... " he breathed. Atala was now holding the bundled baby turian in question, exchanging hisses with it.
"Nope, more attitude. You can do better than that. No cabathi is gonna be scared off by that."
"Atala... she doesn't know what a cabathi is," Nera said dryly, arms crossed.
"She doesn't know what you are," Cerialis said, laying her head on her mate's shoulder and smiling at the baby in Atala's arms.
"But she will. And Auntie Tala is gonna make sure her hiss is big and scary and sends it running away." She hissed at the baby again.
"You're not her aunt," Nera said, "Garrus will be a great leader for the clan but he's not exactly my type." She wrapped an arm around Cerialis who laughed quietly
"Aunt is a job. Got nothing to do with where your siblings stick their sheaths."
"Again, in front of a moonling Atala!"
"I'm gonna give her the talk one day." Atala said, nodding with approval as the tiny tuian hissed at her.
"Nope. Hard nope. You will not be handling that." Nera said flatly.
Cerialis laughed. "Oh, I don't know, the Nerasta might be howling differently when the time comes."
The baby hissed loudly. "Oh!" Atala crooned in approval, "Now that was much better. Took me by surprise too! Good initiative!"
"Really think we should kill her." Garrus whispered. "Look she's gonna turn every new member of the clan to monsters just like her." Shepard stifled a snort. "You laugh now, but I promise, whatever level threat Bloodhound thought the moonling was before Atala got to her, it'll be ten times that when she's through corrupting it."
"Why do you keep calling her a moonling?" Shepard whispered.
Garrus gave her a puzzled look. "Oh..do you not use that?"
Shepard shook her head.
"She's in the first moon cycle of her life. Newforges' age gets measured by star, then moon, then sun."
"So... you're a white dwarf?" Shepard hissed. Garrus frowned, and she grinned, "Super fucking old?"
He glared at her and then leaned in close to her ear and breathed, "No, as you know very well I'm blue, and I'm giant."
His teeth nipped the edge of her ear and she shoved him away. "Oi!" Not out here! Someone will smell us!"
Garrus gave her a dangerous grin and started to say something but froze when he heard a new turian voice in the atrium.
"Casits!" Rafia's voice said sharply. Shepard and Garrus both peered down at the turians gathered by the front door again. Atala, Nera and Cerialis all straightened instantly.
"You left these three alone together unsupervised?" Rafia's disapproving tone rang through the room as she slowly stepped into the area that Garrus and Shepard could see, leaning heavily on Casits, the salarian hovering a few feet behind the Admiral. "I'm surprised Venatura is still standing, much less the house."
"I left them in the very capable hands of our new recruit." Castis said, he frowned at the baby in Atala's arms. "But Atala's got her hands on said recruit now... I admit that was not part of the plan."
"If I remember correctly," Rafia continued, chin raised, " there was nothing left of their first barracks when these three were done with it. You can't leave young Vakarians unsupervised."
"Hey!" Cerialis said in a small but defensive voice, "I was not a Vakarian at that point."
Rafia looked at her sternly and the younger female bit her lip. Rafia's gaze was unflinching. "You are nothing but trouble." Her eyes gleamed. "You have always been a Vakaraian, my little Ceri." Cerialis beamed at Rafia
Castis cleared his throat. "You know some of us disagree with that clan identity."
Rafia gave her mate a sideways look and patted him patronizingly on the arm. "That's because you're in denial."
"Its an honor to see you Admiral." Nera said as she and Cerialis both saluted Rafia. Shepard noticed that Atala stooped as well, still holding the baby and giving her mother a slight bow.
"At ease." Rafia said gently. "You've brought a brave new warrior to our clan this night. It is I should be honoring you."
Atala passed the baby back to Cerialis with a smile and the female took a few steps forward, holding the baby so that Rafia could see her. "Would you welcome her to the, clan? As you welcomed me?" She asked, eyes shining.
Nera came forward as well.
Rafia placed a hand on Cerialis' cheek, running a thumb gently along the blue of her Vakarian clanmark. "With pride." she said softly. She reached for the baby.
Shepard saw Atala and Castis exchange a quick look and then Atala said, "Nera carried her through the worst war we have ever faced, I think she should lift her to the stars, as Aia Colan did after carrying her young through the first great battle." She added softly, "we should celebrate Nera echoing her strength."
Castis' eyes were on Rafia. "I think your namesake would have liked that idea, Atala."
Rafia was quiet for a moment and everyone seemed to be watching, waiting for her to answer. "We need strength like Aia Colana in this new world." Rafia said. "Lift her to the forgefires my child."
Nera's golden carapace darkened under her tattoo as she flushed in evident pride as she pulled a small horned form from the blankets in Cerialis' arms.
The child was similar in size to a human one (or at least Shepard thought it was... she genuinely couldn't remember the last time she's been around a human baby. It's arms were surprisingly long and already tipped with sharp taloned fingers. Its legs were either tightly curled by its belly or oddly short, its feet adorably large by comparison. The horns of her little crest were little nubs and her mandibles and eyes seemed to be huge compared to the rest of her face. She seemed to be struggling to hold up her little head but it swung around clumsily and she made a small hissing noise again when she saw Atala.
"Spirits who watched this one warm the starfire, spirits who listened to the song of her forging, spirits who were there when she was quenched in her parents blood, spirits who passed this new weapon into our world, hear me speak." Rafia's eyes gleamed as she stared up at the baby. "This bright one I claim."
The little turian kicked one of its legs. Its night hide was covered with streaks of warm tawny gold across her forehead, little shoulders and arms, and a bright streak down her belly.
Nera lowered her daughter and Castis passed a small container to Rafia.
"This bright one I claim." Rafia continued. "I claim her as one I will defend as long as the forgefires burn. I claim her as one I will teach all that I know. I claim her as one who will stand with me for clan and for home." Rafia dipped a finger in the container, and it emerged covered with shimmering blue. She traced a line across one of the baby' mandibles. "Her blood is blue as the skies where we soar, and the waters that sing with our ancestors roar." Then they traced across the other side. "She will be valiant, she will be brave," Rafia leaned forward and whispered, "she will be trouble... " Castis' lip twitched, his eyes lined with silver as he watched his mate. "She will be Vakarian-" but Rafia's hand began to shake slightly as she drew the line across the infants cheeks. She stopped, clenched and unclenched her hand and then began the delicate tracing again, but the shaking continued. Garrus made a low distressed rumbling where he watched next to Shepard.
Shepard saw Rafia's mandibles press tight to her jaw, she released a long breath, but Atala gently took her mothers hand, steadying it and allowing Rafia to finish the line across the child's face. Mother and daughter's eyes met and then said together. "And in her our clan will endure."
"Garrus will have quite the second." Cerialis whispered, eyes on Atala, "you've learned from Atalanta and Casits well."
Atala released her mothers hand and Rafia continued, "This bright one I claim, and I name her... "
Nera's eyes met Rafia's as she said, "Rafinnia Zyanus."
There was silver at the edge of Rafia's eyes as she pressed her forehead to Nera's for a moment. She looked down at the baby who was tossing its head a little, flat nose twitching at the new addition to its face. "I name you Rafinnia Zyanus of clan Vakarian, and I claim you forever more."
/././././././././././././././
Garrus had already vanished from the shadows where they had been watching the new Vakarian join clan ranks. The small group of rejoicing turians had shifted to the seating area under Castis' insisting that it was rude to make the new parents stand as they took a moment to catch up with the family. Shepard did notice that Dr. Elstin had muttered something in his ear just before he made the comment.
Shepard quietly made her way back to their rooms. She found Garrus leaning over the small bar that stood in front of the huge arched window of the room. Moonlight shining silver on his carapace. His clothes were on the floor in a crumpled pile and he'd already donned the loose shorts he wore while sleeping. There was a hunch in the set of his shoulders, his crowned shadow stretched across the floor towards the bed and ice clinked in a glass as he took a sip of a clear Palaven liquor that Shepard knew to be very strong.
She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.
"Hi." She said quietly.
A long sigh rumbled out of him. "Hi."
She ran her fingers of one hand down the plates and gaps of hide on his chest. Trailing fingers along his side, back up to the large muscle groups at the apex of his chest, and down again. He lifted the drink again, his body still tense as stone.
"Do... do you want to talk about it?" She asked.
"No." He said, his voice a low rumbling growl.
Fingers still trailing across his bare chest, she slipped under his arm and scooted up onto the bar so that she was sitting in front of him. He glowered at her and stood up, picking up a bottle to refill the glass. But she took it from him. Pulling the glass from his hand as well. He said nothing but narrowed his eyes at her as she put them down next to her. She took his arm and pulled him towards her, and he let himself follow, stepping in so that he stood between her spread legs. With a feather light touch she ran her fingers up his arms and over his chest, shoulders, and up to his neck. She lifted her chin and ever so gently pulled him towards her till her lips brushed his. Hovering and barely making contact at first, before pressing tenderly against the smoothe tiny scales at the edge of his mouth. He didn't respond at first, but she caressed his mandible, kissing him gently again, and then his mouth softened, letting her in in more ways than one. Her tongue slid along his. The muscles in his chest loosened under her other hand. Shivers raced down her spine as talons traced up the back of her neck and twined themselves delicately in her hair. His breaths became long and even, tickling her skin as he kissed his way across her cheeks and down her neck until he returned to her lips once more. She held him in a long slow kiss, drawing away from his mouth at a glacial pace and then breathed. "Talk to me now?" Still close enough for her breath to whisper against his lips.
Garrus released a single soft laugh."Evil. Space. Demon." She silenced him with another languid kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling.
"Why were they talking about Atala being your second?" Shepard asked quietly.
Garrus pushed back from Shepard a little, his eyes and fingers trailing strands down her arm. "We... " he sighed, "according to stuffy culture... we are supposed to run the clan eventually... like Mom." A low growl thrummed in his chest. "Ok... well... the child with the highest rank... which is usually the eldest... is supposed to. And the other serves as their second... " He shook his head, "But I left the military and was working on the Citadel so it should have been... well there would have been someone closely related who outranked me... "his mandibles tensed. "Could have been Atala if she wasn't a stupid biotic and given a low level cover for secret spy flexibility bullshit... Anyway, it was all going to be fine and someone else was going to look better for the job."
"Because you... don't want it?"
His eyes met hers, full of weariness and guilt. "No."
"Ok," she said gently.
He closed his eyes in frustration. "But then... I left C-Sec... and the Citadel... which was one of the best decisions of my life for... many reasons." He said skimming, his nose along hers. "But then the Reapers showed up... and I got the task force... "
"And they made you a General?"
He gave her a pained smile. "Yeah." He shrugged. "It's fine though. We'll have to go chase something down on the Normandy soon enough and Victus will forget about me and Atala will probably get promoted." His mandibles tensed. "She'll make a better clan leader any way. She's basically doing it already... well, like you saw."
"And she wants to lead?" Shepard asked.
Garrus refilled the drink, with one hand, the other running up and down Shepard's back. He took a long swig. "Are our newforged different from yours?" He asked, not looking at her, but instead watching the contents of the glass as he swirled the ice.
She tilted her head as she watched his face. "Well we don't talk about them coming from a fucking forge. Which makes sense for us because they are... very squishy.
Garrus frowned. "Like... more squishy than humans already are?" His eyes roamed over her, spending longer on her breasts and hips, then met hers again with a wicked gleam, "you are very squishy." She kicked him and he grunted in pain.
"Yes, they are even more... vulnerable."
"Well that's fucking terrifying." Garrus muttered.
"I don't know, Rafinnia already has claws. How does a female survive that?"
Garrus gave her a bemused look. "Well... males and females can both carry first of all... and a quiver is heavily armored. Besides, newforged won't uncurl till after they're born, and their crests don't develop points till way later." He shrugged. "Besides before we built all this," he nodded at the house around them, "and just lived in the land, they needed claws to protect themselves while parents were hunting, or at war."
Shepard raised her brows, "You guys, just drop a baby and then run off and start killing things?"
Garrus blinked. "I mean... yeah."
"What?" Shepard said in disbelief.
Garrus frowned. "Do... do humans not?"
Shepard laughed. "Well, we would really really try not to. I mean... no one is in the shape to fight after giving birth, not even males now that they choose to carry a pregnancy with the right doctor."
"I don't understand." Garrus said. "Carrying is an excellent time to fight. I mean... it doesn't happen anymore... well it did with the Reapers because we were getting desperate. But like... pre-circuit civilizations would often conceive in anticipation of a war or battle... or try to anyway."
"Excuse me?" Shepard closed her eyes and shook her head. "Ok... what exactly happens to a carrying turian?"
"The body changes to support the newforged?" Garrus said slowly. "You know, hormones go kind of crazy; better endurance, added thickness to carapace plates, more rapid muscle development, short violent tempers? I mean they eat like starving varren, don't get me wrong... but otherwise... they make one hell of a front line."
Shepard stared at him in disbelief. "I can't decide if I should be impressed or horrified."
Garrus took a pensive sip of his drink. "Not what happens to humans?"
Shepard laughed. "Not what happens to humans. We... in an emergency there might be more strength or endurance... but you don't really want to have that happen... you're kind of supposed to avoid stress, definitely supposed to avoid running and violence... It's a very vulnerable time." Garrus' eyes were widening in horror, "and then after... well historically it was life threatening and after you were very weak. Science has helped a shit load on those fronts but I don't think any doctor would recommend getting up to go fight." She stared at him. "You guys really used to go do that?"
Garrus was looking a little shell shocked. "Uh... yeah... why well, why do you think a seconom is so important? There was a pretty decent chance a new parent would die shortly after giving birth if the battle didn't go their clan's way... so you needed to make sure that there was someone lined up to oversee its upbringing... "
"Fuck you guys are horrifying!" Shepard said with a hand to her mouth.
"What?" Garrus snapped. "We are? Reproduction is completely fucked for your species! Why do any of you do it when you know it's that bad!?"
Shepard raised her hands. "Don't ask me, it wasn't part of my plan!"
Garrus shook his head, starlight rippling across the plates of his face, the Vakarian tattoos dark by comparison. He took one of Shepard's lowered hands in his, tracing them with his fingers and wiggling her "excessive" digits. "What do you think it would have been like?" He asked softly.
Shepard didn't answer. She stared at his hand on hers, at the silver strands, another thing marking her. Marking her as different... alien to him. Another thing she didn't understand. She was tired; so tired.
His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping a tear she didn't realize she'd shed. She looked up, her eyes meeting his. "Trouble." She whispered. His nostrils flared and his jaw tensed as he took a deep breath.
"Is that what it would be like for me?" She asked, changing the subject quickly, "if I got the clanmark?"
"Uh... well... " Garrus cleared his throat and then continued, "sort of. There's old clan language and oaths... and it's supposed to happen in open air where you can see the sky... "he reached up and tucked a wandering lock of hair behind her ear. "But... um... I'd-I'd be the one to give you the clanmark." His fingers continued to trail through her hair, sending shivers down her spine. "That's... well... it's a moment shared between mates... its before the clan... but between us."
His thumb skated across her bare cheek and she leaned into the touch. "I wish... " she said quietly, "I wish I didn't want it as much as I do now."
Garrus frowned. "Now?"
"Well... it's," Shepard looked into the shadows, "it's been something that I liked the idea of... for a while. Because it's like having a piece of you with me no matter what." She glanced at him nervously. "But after being here... its... its part of having a family." She looked down at her hands. "And I want that. I want to be part of this family."
She felt his fingers on her chin as he gently raised her lips to meet his; the kiss long and deep. "You are and will always be a part of this family." He breathed as he pulled back. Their eyes met for a moment. "And you will always have a piece of me with you. Marked or unmarked." He swore, and sealed the oath with his lips on her's.
