Fratrim - Brother, but one of honour, friendship, or of oath rather than one of blood relation. Refers to the bond of karifratrus.
Karifratrus - a blood oath made between turians, bonding them as siblings in honour rather than blood. It has its origins in ancient tribal culture. Clan members swore oaths before going into battle. If one of them died, the family and all dependents of the other would be adopted into the survivor's family. While the oath-swearers are alive, they are bonded as close or closer than blood. If bond-mates are involved, the bond can be a three (four) way romantic or platonic relationship. Children of one are considered the children of both. Although no longer as common as it once was, karifratrus is accepted and honoured both socially and legally.
"Let's get in there." Garrus shoved aside his concern and anger and looked to the captain walking at his side. "Anderson, you and I will grab Nihlus and get him back to the alley to the wards. Alenko, Wrex, Tali, and Williams stick to the plan, then come take custody of our inebriated Spectre." At the garden's gate, he stopped and turned to face the line of crew. "Hold him there, wait for the rest of the crew. Once everyone has gone through, we'll get him back to the transport. Be careful. Nihlus likely has a contract out on him. No one gets within a half klick. Keep sharp."
"Roger that," Alenko answered, his jaw set in a grim line.
"Okay, let's go." Garrus turned and struck out into the crowd, Tali dropping back to walk next to Liara. Bodies pressed close, but most people seemed to have settled into their places, and he wove through their numbers with greater ease than he'd expected. Having crowd control experience didn't hurt either. It was amazing what the threat of a turian elbow jab could do to gain a little room.
"Nihlus hasn't stopped drinking since she died, has he?" Anderson asked as they started forward, hurrying down the street.
Garrus just shook his head. Something cracked inside Nihlus when Saren tried to kill him, but being betrayed by the council, the body and ideal that he'd dedicated his life to serving . . . that had broken him. Shepard's loss just reduced the pieces to dust.
"Don't let them play you all for—"
Garrus and Anderson stepped up, hurrying down the left hand aisle toward a podium decorated lavishly with large arrangements of the same flowers—lilies, he believed they were called—the crew had placed on Shepard's coffin. He stared at them for a moment, brow plates lowered, as his hand lifted to press over the pocket where his resided, wrapped in paper. Was it some sort of tradition, or did everyone, even Udina, know that she liked the elegant, white blossoms? Not that floral preferences had a place in battlefield banter, but it was just one more unpainted corner of Shepard's canvas.
"Garrus!" Nihlus's yell dragged him out of his self-pity as the Spectre spotted them. Staggering, Nihlus plowed into the front row, sending an asari diving for cover in the lap next to hers. "Garrus! Anderson! Tell them. You know what a lie this is." Both arms stretched out to his sides and he spun, nearly falling through the large hologram of Shepard. "Look how many people came."
Garrus grumbled as a vase of the frilly, white flowers smashed on the ground, knocked aside by a careless arm as Nihlus tried to regain his balance. Damn it. The idiot might be smashed out of his mind, but he was right about the attendance. Thousands sat and stood throughout the large green-space, but that just made it harder to get to the Spectre before he trashed the entire memorial.
Garrus winced as another flower arrangement perished, feeling both a profound sympathy and a wrenching embarrassment on the Spectre's behalf. "Nihlus, stop!" he called. "You're not honouring her like this. You're turning her into a joke to be told at their parties and around water coolers."
At that, Nihlus stopped dead, swaying drunkenly, a soft keen vibrating through the air. It trembled, lost and despairing. A fist punched through Garrus's throat, icicle fingers wrapping around both larynges.
Damn it, Shepard . . . look what you've done to him.
Garrus breathed through the choking pain and forced himself forward, an intense need to protect the other torin transforming ice into fire. They needed to get Nihlus out of there, give him time to grieve. In his current state, if C-Sec got ahold of him, the Spectre would be lucky to last the day.
Anderson pushed past Garrus to grab ahold of Nihlus's arm. Twisting it behind the Spectre's back, the captain used it to propel the inebriated turian down the main aisle. Garrus caught up about half way to the entrance and slipped his hand around Nihlus's upper arm. All fight drained out of the Spectre, and he slumped, legs dragging.
"Spirits, Nihlus, stand up. Walk out of here with some damned pride." Garrus yanked him up onto his feet, and whispered, just a low hiss at Nihlus's aural canal, "Get up. You wonder why she chose me? Why she loved me? When you act like this?" He winced a little as he drove the knife in, but desperate times called for a cold slash of cruelty. "How could she love a torin who gives in, folding and tearing like wet paper at the slightest sign of difficulty?" He jabbed Nihlus with his elbow. "She must have found you so pathetic."
Nihlus stiffened and spun on Garrus, yanking his arm free. "You . . .."
"What about me?" Garrus tilted his head, his mandibles fluttering a little in challenge as Nihlus looked into his eyes.
Come on, get angry. Curse me out. Try to kick my ass. Prove me wrong.
The Spectre cursed, some dim light of comprehension igniting in the depths of that stare. "Damn you." He took a swing, but the blow sailed a foot wide of Garrus's head. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know that you loved Shepard, and that you shouldn't drink. That's enough to start with." Garrus took hold of Nihlus's upper arm again. "Come on. Let's get you out of here before you end up shot."
"Why the hell do you care what happens to me, Vakarian?" Nihlus tried to wrestle free and just ended up going down on one knee.
Garrus lifted him back up, leaning closer so that his words wouldn't go any further than them. "Because she loved you. That makes you my fratrin and my responsibility."
The Spectre stopped, his wavering stare locking onto Garrus with alarming desperation. "Fratrin?" He gripped the lapels of Garrus's tunic and pulled him in. "Karifratrus? What? Would you have . . .?"
Garrus shoved Nihlus toward the alley. "We swore no oaths, Nihlus, and now she's dead. Just keep moving."
Between them, Garrus and Anderson kept the staggering Spectre on his feet and headed in the right direction. Scattered here and there throughout the crowd, C-Sec agents closed in. He pressed on, hoping they could get Nihlus to the alley before the net closed . . . a hope that died a moment later as a tall, blonde human stepped in front of them.
The man looked from Anderson to Nihlus then Garrus. He sighed, his rugged face creasing into a frown. "What's going on here, Vakarian? I just got a call to arrest Spectre Kryik."
"Bailey." He leaned toward the man. Having known Bailey for years, he respected the human for his tough, but even-handed approach. Garrus just hoped he'd lean toward compassion when presented with the truth behind Nihlus's situation. "Kryik had a thing for Shepard. He's drunk. Let me take him back to our ship. You won't see him until he's sober."
The human glanced in the direction of several of the incoming officers, then shook his head. "I'm trusting you on this, Vakarian." He stepped aside and jerked his head toward the alley. "Get him out of here, and make it six months. I don't know what's going on, but the council wants his head. Keep it away from them, or they'll cut it off."
"Thanks, Bailey." Garrus ducked behind a small cluster of onlookers to avoid another officer he knew, one he didn't think would give them a pass. When they hit the stairs, he let out a long breath of relief.
"We're not clear yet," Anderson grumbled, stumbling backwards as Nihlus threw his head to the side, smacking the captain directly in the forehead. The hollow-melon thock echoed down the corridor. "Damn it, Kryik."
Nihlus turned on him. "You. You were like her father, and you just let—"
Garrus cut him off, elbowing him under his lowest chest plate, knocking the wind out of him. "You'll want to shut up now." He stopped just before the elevator to the ward. "We had a plan, Nihlus, and you nearly screwed it up for everyone."
"Someone had to say something. Your plan . . .." Nihlus shoved Garrus back, but the blow didn't even stagger him.
Garrus grabbed the cowl of Nihlus's tunic, sympathy going up in frustrated flames. "Listen to me. In a few minutes her crew is going to start showing up here to keep you from getting killed. They have just lost a commanding officer they loved and respected. You were her partner. They are going to be looking to you for strength and courage." He shook Nihlus hard enough that he heard the Spectre's teeth rattle. "Pull it together for them and for her."
Nihlus shoved him, managing enough force to hurt. Garrus pushed him away, but stared him down with a gaze that promised to end anything Nihlus started. After a few seconds, he heard Kaidan and the others jogging down the stairs.
"The relief has arrived, but um . . . we have a new problem, Garrus. Ash . . .." Kaidan nodded back to where Normandy crew members continued to trickle down the stairs. "You should get up there and fast. She wouldn't let me drag her out of there. Go ahead. We'll keep him out of trouble."
Garrus's heart slid down into his lower intestines. What the hell was going on with everyone? The galaxy was going to believe that the entire coalition against the Reapers was comprised of lunatics.
Wrex grunted. "We could just take him back to the transport."
Garrus bolted for the stairs without waiting for Anderson, but called back, "No. I don't want us strung out across the wards access. Stay here, stay sharp. We'll be back in a few minutes. I wouldn't go at all, but damn it, I want those bastards to look me in the eye."
Garrus headed up the stairs, able to hear Ash even though he couldn't tell what she said. Damn it. Ash sat at the bottom of the list of people he expected to lose their shit, and now he had to drag another one of his insane, belligerent people out of the council's face. The council didn't know who he was, and for a reason. Shepard had worked hard to keep him clear of any meetings or communications. Now, because her people had learned far too well from her example, all that was getting flushed down the drain.
He grimaced. If she knew that he was drawing their attention, she'd probably kick his ass. At least she'd kick Nihlus and Ashley a lot harder.
Garrus shoved that concern into the drawer with all the others and picked up the pace. The weight of the Citadel pressed down heavier every moment he remained there . . . every moment his people remained there. He needed to get them out of there and quickly. As soon as he cleared the stairs, he heard what Ashley was shouting.
". . . are supposed to be humanity's ambassador, and you just fed her to these alien wolves for the sake of gaining a little bit more power." The chief gripped Udina by the front of his suit jacket, their noses less than a centimetre apart. "Shepard might have brought aliens into the fight, but she was there for humanity. She refused to let these bastards sell out our entire species to save their own." She threw him away from her, shoving him hard enough that he stumbled backwards over a flower arrangement, sending it smashing to the ground. The flowers were losing ground in the battle. "And she would have never sold us out for a bigger office and a fancy title."
At that rate, none of the Normandy crew would ever be invited to any formal, fancy affairs. Garrus almost laughed, but then Ashley went after Tevos and Sparatus stepped between them. The old torin had been a hell of a warrior in his day, and Garrus knew that the chief would end up splattered all over something if she went up against him. At least, she would if Tevos didn't warp her into a ball of human goo, first.
"Chief Williams!" Garrus barked, pulling her attention away from the council. "Stand down and get your ass back with the rest of the crew."
She turned back to stare into Sparatus's eyes for another moment, nearly growling as she said, "I'm not afraid of you, turian." After a breathless moment Garrus spent praying that Sparatus and Tevos maintained their diplomatic calm, Ash spun on her heel, shoving past him. "Back off, Vakarian. You're not my CO. You're just as bad as the rest of these bastards. Where were you when Shepard needed you? Huh? Would she be dead now if she'd been a turian?"
Garrus staggered back from that blow, Anderson moving in to confront the chief. Ashley held her hands up, palms facing the livid captain. "Never mind, sir. I'm out of here. I don't expect anyone here to understand honouring or standing up for one's own people." She shoved by them, lifting into a jog as soon as she got clear of the crowd.
Garrus watched her until she disappeared into the wards access, then let out a long sigh and turned toward Anderson. The two of them strode for the front side by side, arriving just as Udina stepped forward, calling for order.
"Everyone calm down," the newest councillor called. "You all know that the geth and quarian fleets helped defend the Citadel against Saren's dreadnought during the attack." He waved for people to take their seats. "All of this has been part of the ceremony."
Garrus chuckled as he stepped up to face Udina and Tevos, but it felt January-iron-cold in his mouth. "Even the drunken Spectre and the pissed off Marine, Udina?" He leaned in close. "I can't stop you from taking her memory and distorting it, but know that one day, she'll be proven to have been right all along. When that day comes and you run to us for shelter from the storm . . . remember this moment and that it was your hand on that gun just as it was yours, Madam Councillor." He looked into Tevos's eyes for a moment before turning on Sparatus and Valern. "And yours."
Feeling a vague prickle down his spine and a tug on his hand warning him to retreat, he spun toward the holo of Shepard and snapped to attention.
He gave her image a turian salute, lifting his elbow to shoulder height, then touching the knuckles of his fist to the point of his keel. Turning to leave, he spotted his father in the crowd, seated next to the Executor, and hesitated. They locked stares, but then Herros shook his head, a subtle twitch to either side. As much as he longed for the comfort and solemn understanding promised in his father's eyes, Garrus felt the wisdom of waiting. It surprised him, and he swore he saw surprise in the elder Vakarian's eyes as well.
Garrus touched the backs of his talons to his brow before turning away and striding down the aisle between the seats. He didn't possess anything he wished to say to the crowd. He could feel what Shepard had always said about the place and people. They all hid the truth: a magnificent fortress made fragile by termites gnawing their way through every wall and beam; bright, bleached smiles hiding teeth hollow and decayed. That truth pressed in on him, making it hard to breathe, and even though he would have never thought it, Omega beckoned, promising an honest freedom under the filth and despair.
As he followed Anderson down the aisle—every eye in the park focused on him, thousands of laser sights burning through his plates—Garrus felt Shepard walking beside him, her hand gripping his tight. Her essence, the fire and determination that had been smouldering deep in his belly flared up, burning through him with its certainty.
"You can do this," it whispered through his thoughts. "You can lead these people and win this war. I know you can. Take care of my people . . . your people, General Vakarian."
Garrus pulled in a deep breath and nodded. He stopped at the entrance to the park and turned back to look at the hologram of Shepard standing amidst the floral arrangements and pillars.
"Spirits, you would have hated this memorial, Kahri." He laughed as the council returned to the podium, trying to look as if the Citadel hadn't been invaded by a flotilla of geth and quarians, a drunk Spectre, and Shepard's indignant crew. Imagining the chaos Shepard could have sown had she been there made him laugh, low and deep.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, staring at her image, "but you're right here. You'll always be right here." He backed up, following Anderson, but not quite ready to look away. "Let's show them."
Taking a deep breath, he turned, striding quickly after the crew. They needed to get Nihlus aboard the transport and out of there.
"Square protection detail," he called as he and Anderson trotted down the stairs into the alley. "Wrex, Alenko, Williams take point. Anderson and I'll walk drag. Keep your eyes open. The council doesn't get to bushwhack us twice." He grabbed Nihlus's arm and pulled the Spectre toward him. "No more, right?" he whispered, the words for Nihlus alone. "You want to drown your pain in brandy, fine, but you don't risk what she died to build, ever again, right?"
Nihlus nodded and yanked his arm free, stalking after the double line of Normandy crew that formed the leading edge of the square.
"I'm worried about his stability," Anderson said. The captain's brow furrowed.
Garrus started off. "I'm not. At his core, he's a turian, a soldier, and a Spectre. He'll be all right once we get going. He just needs something to focus on."
Keeping to back alleys and secondary elevators, they managed to make good time to the docking bay while avoiding C-Sec. Garrus considered using transport, but didn't want to break the group up and have people waiting around taxi stands when they'd made such a distinct impression upon the council. He hovered halfway between bursting into a volley of colourful curses and hysterical laughter. The plan had been so damned simple. Go in, pay their respects, look the council in the eye, and get out.
"I'll have a talk with Williams," Anderson said as they exited the elevator into the public dock where their transport awaited them. "I have no idea what she was thinking. From Shepard's reports, I thought the chief was overcoming her prejudice." The captain looked up, his gaze moving over the balconies and walkways above and beside them.
Garrus mirrored him, watching their other side. The space remained only sparsely populated, leaving him feeling exposed as they mounted the series of ramps to the massive ship's personnel hatch. "She was getting along very well. I'm not sure what that was about, but I'll leave it to you to sort."
"Garrus!"
Garrus turned toward the call, wincing at the fury in the voice. Martin raced down a long set of stairs from the waiting lounge above, a huge backpack and a duffel slung over his shoulders.
Damn, he should have contacted Martin. He wondered if Anderson had. Probably, but still, he should have as well. Bracing himself for the coming storm, Garrus turned to the others. "Go ahead and board. I'll be there in a minute."
Anderson shook his head. "I told him we were coming, thinking maybe he'd want to go through the memorial with us." He stepped up to the railing on the docking arm. "But, he looks like he's planning on coming along."
"Why?" Martin screamed, pulling Garrus's attention back to him as he ran up the docking arm. "Why, Garrus?"
Garrus nodded toward the hatch, his gut twisting as Martin shouted his own question at him. He didn't have an answer . . . for either of them. He glanced at Anderson. "Go aboard, Captain. He wants me."
Anderson shook his head, his jaw jutting out in an impressive demonstration of stubbornness as he squared his shoulders and turned to face the angry youth. "I've known the kid forever. I can help calm—"
"He loved her," Garrus said, cutting the captain off. "He doesn't want to be calm. He wants to beat the injustice out of the universe." He stabbed a talon toward the hatch. "Go ahead."
Martin didn't slow, charging straight into Garrus, hands raised to shove the much larger turian. "Why?" he demanded again, the heels of his hands slamming into Garrus's chest. The momentum behind the blow staggered Garrus back into the railing, his keel letting out a creak as one of the cartilaginous menisci popped. He winced, but didn't say anything. That appeared to suit Martin just fine. The youth pounded on him three more times, shouting with each blow, "Why?"
Garrus didn't move, speak, or try to subdue Martin's fists, letting him exhaust his fury and grief until he reached a level of anger that allowed for coherence. Garrus understood, he just didn't have the luxury of beating the crap out of someone to vent his emotions, nor that of drinking himself into oblivion. Not if his Kahri was looking on. She expected so much more from him. She expected everything from him, and letting her down . . ..
Finally, panting heavily, Martin threw himself back, one hand digging into his hip as he struggled to regain his breath. He staggered a few steps toward the transport, then back to lean on the railing.
"Why?" the young man whispered a last time, looking up at Garrus.
Garrus sighed and stared into the sensors that covered where Martin's eyes had once been. "Why what, Martin?" He stepped away from the railing and smoothed the front of his tunic. When he continued, he kept his voice kind and low. "Why did they kill her? Why didn't I save her? Why wasn't it me? Why wasn't she as immortal and indestructible as she appeared?" He shook his head and shrugged. "Why what?"
Martin tensed, fury etched in every line of his face. He blamed Garrus, that much was certain. "All of them. You were with her when it happened?" He flung away his pack and duffel. "You and Anderson were with her?" Shoulders braced and bristled, jaw and fists clenched, Martin shifted from foot to foot, finally finding an outlet for grief that he'd borne alone for almost a week.
Spirits, he should have called the poor kid.
"Yes," Garrus said finally, on a long breath out. "We were with her." He walked over to Martin and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Even though we knew she and Nihlus would be in danger if they stayed, the council had just made her a Spectre. We didn't think they'd move against her so soon. We grabbed Anderson and were on our way to meet the crew at Flux." Releasing him, Garrus turned to the railing, leaning into it.
For more than a minute, he just stared out at the people. Life flowed through the terminal, coming and going without the slightest clue that their worlds had all become more fragile than they could imagine.
"I had my arm around her," he said at last, his voice just a whisper. As his mind drifted back to the moment, his body followed in kind, drifting down the dock a couple of meters as if it could distance itself from the reality. "I keep thinking I could've done something . . . should have done something, but it happened so fast. We weren't wary enough." Bracing his arms against his sides, Garrus gripped the railing in his talons and leaned out. "She was dead in my arms before I knew she was in danger."
Martin followed and leaned against the railing a half-metre away. "She didn't even see it coming, did she? If she didn't, how could you?" He let out a sigh that sounded as if it originated in his feet. "She let her guard down, and it got her killed."
Garrus turned to face the young man, his hand settling back onto Martin's shoulder. "We all did, so now all we can do is carry on the best we can." Stepping away, Garrus nodded toward the Citadel. "Go, keep training. Live your life. Become the best damned C-Sec officer on the force. Make her proud, kid."
Martin shook his head. "This has never been my home. This is where I waited for her to come back to me. She's never coming back, Garrus. I don't have any reason to wait for her here any longer." Stepping closer, he looked up, his entire body changing from rigid to solid under Garrus's hand. "You're taking up her fight? You and Anderson and the Spectre?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then I'm coming with you. She was my friend . . . my . . ." He shrugged in a disappointed but resigned way. ". . . sister. I love her, and her fight is mine." Chin jutting out, he met Garrus's skepticism with a determination that made the turian shake his head. Martin's face formed a smile, but a cold, vengeful one. "You know you can't stop me. The best you can do is take me with you and hope to keep me out of trouble."
Garrus's smile came naturally, his mandibles flicking with both genuine amusement and admiration. He should have known. Shepard didn't attract anything but guts and an impressive level of stubbornness. He considered refusing for about half as long as it took to decide it would prove futile, then flicked a thumb talon toward the hatch.
Martin's smile turned even more fierce as he nodded then turned to grab his packs.
A dozen warnings and vague half-threats pushed their way to the fore of his mind, but Garrus dismissed them all. With all the fire burning through Martin's blood, the kid wouldn't hear anything, anyway. Just as he hadn't heard his father's warnings and predictions of disaster years before. He'd keep the kid close, where he could watch him, and make as sure as he could that nothing happened to him. He could keep that promise.
Garrus glanced over the docks, just checking to see if they'd drawn any sort of attention, then followed Martin into the ship.
Three hours later, he clapped an arm around the kid's shoulders and escorted him through the Normandy's airlock onto the CIC. "Welcome to the Normandy, Martin. You can share the cargo bay with me, Wrex, and the rachni queen." He grinned at the wide-eyed look he got—amazing how it translated even past the implants. "Don't worry, the rachni queen has a nice little nest set up in the far corner and mostly just sings. I bite, but I sleep in the shuttle. Wrex made himself a cozy little room out of crates. I'm sure if you ask nicely, he'll help you make one too." He saluted the guard at the door and ushered Martin through first. "You'll be fine for the two days to get to Omega."
The kid stopped dead, nearly falling when Garrus slammed into his back side. Garrus caught him by the strap on his duffel and hauled him back onto the stair. "Wait? What? We're going to Omega?" He paled. "Isn't that some sort of criminal outpost?"
A wry grin crossed Garrus's face as he shrugged. "Welcome to the other side of the straight and narrow, Martin. In order to prepare for the Reapers, we've had to do a lot of colouring outside the lines, and there's a whole lot more to do. If you're uncomfortable with bending the rules, you've joined the wrong organization."
"Did the council kill her?" Martin demanded, trudging down the rest of the stairs on stiff, wooden legs.
Garrus shook his head, just a slight tremor to either side. "I don't know. Part of me wants to say definitely, but then the other part asks why. They'd just heralded her a hero, made her a Spectre. Dying like this, she becomes a figurehead." A low, strained rumble rolled from his throat, tightening as his memories pressed at him. He slapped the elevator control and pushed Shepard away. The time for keening and tears had come and gone.
Martin cocked his head off to one side, his eyelids narrowing over the sensors as he stared up into Garrus's face. "You really loved her didn't you?"
The question shot a missile into the wall holding Garrus's emotions in check, weakening it enough that it took all his focus to slap enough rebar and mortar up to stop it from collapsing altogether.
After staring for another second, Martin put him out of his misery and looked away. "She loved you. I could tell. She looked at you the way I always wished she'd look at me." The elevator door opened and the kid led the way inside, leaning against the back wall. "I was jealous at first, but then I realized that I was happier that she could love someone than I was angry it wasn't me. I thought losing her family had smashed that part of her completely."
Garrus froze, his hand raised to the elevator control. Spirits. Shepard's family.
Sweet baby Jesus, Garrus, you forgot, didn't you?
He hit the control. As soon as he got Martin settled, he'd go to Anderson. "Did she tell you anything about her family?" he asked.
"No. She kept it pretty buried. Hurt too much." He pushed off the wall and straightened, shifting his duffel in front of him like armour. "What I learned, I dug up on my own. There's quite a lot in the public record if you know where to look, and more in the not so public record if you don't mind hacking through a lot of security." He shuddered. "I don't know how she survived."
The elevator opened, but both of them took a moment to notice, looking inward, buried in thoughts. When he finally realized that they'd arrived, Garrus looked down the length of the cargo bay. Ashley wasn't at her station. Perhaps Anderson called her up to discuss her sudden return to racism. Garrus's gut rolled, the hateful words she'd shot at him hitting like polonium rounds. Betrayal. The poison behind those shots amounted to betrayal. He believed them friends. Just one more thing to shake off and push past. How many more before the wall came down, and he disappeared under the avalanche?
Until then . . .. He took a deep breath, wincing as the scents of no fewer than fifty memories smacked him in the face at once. Straightening his back until it cracked, he spun on his talons, looking over at Wrex's corner of the hold. "Hey, Wrex? You in there?"
"No."
Garrus chuckled and shook his head. "Come on, kid, I'll introduce you." He led Martin over to where the krogan sat in his little shelter, cleaning his shotgun. "Don't let the old guy intimidate you. He really is a big softie."
"Come a little closer and say that, Garrus," Wrex said then laughed, looking up from his work as they stepped into his doorway. "Who's this pyjak?"
Garrus stepped aside when Martin didn't show any inclination to move forward. "This is Martin Weaver, one of Shepard's oldest friends. Could you help him set up a place to bunk while he's here?"
Wrex set down his gun and stood, towering over the human. Garrus hid his smile behind his hand as Wrex shrugged his armour up his massive shoulders and tilted his head to crack his neck. "One of Shepard's friends?" Wrex asked, harrumphing a little. "Must be more to you than it appears." The krogan bent down to level an appraising stare straight into Martin's face, one eye narrowing as he tilted his chin up. "What happened to your eyes?"
"Slavers cut them out," Martin answered. He drew himself up to square off with Wrex, his gutsy attitude squashing the sick lurch of empathy that twisted in Garrus's gut. The kid cocked his head and stuck out his jaw a bit. "They also took out part of my tongue. Would you like to get a close up of that, too? I can open wide, but I can't say ah very well."
Wrex stared at the kid for a second then laughed and clapped him on the back. "I knew you'd have some guts." He nodded toward a wall of crates. "Let's build you some place to sleep where Williams can't stare at you. She likes scars."
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Garrus said, backing away, but Martin was already asking Wrex about the massive scars across his face. He chuckled and turned back to the elevator.
You sure knew how to pick them, Kahri.
Two minutes later, Garrus stepped around the side of the elevator, then stumbled back, spinning a little as someone slammed into his left side, barreling straight through him.
"Stay out of my way," Ashley said, her voice rolling through a low growl as she stumbled. She took a step sideways, something flashing across her expression that he couldn't define, but he didn't think it looked like hate. If he had to put a name to it, he would have called it regret.
Garrus reached out. "Ash, what's happened since this morning?" She slapped his hand aside and kept going. When Garrus looked up, he saw Anderson standing in the door of the captain's cabin. After looking back to watch Ash disappeared behind the elevator, he turned to face Anderson. "What was that?"
The captain just shrugged and turned back into his cabin. "All she'll say to me about it is, 'If you don't like my attitude, reassign me.'"
"Actually, Captain," Garrus called, hurrying after him, "I need to ask you about something."
Anderson's shoulders dropped, and he didn't turn back. "Can it keep until tomorrow?"
Garrus almost let it go, but then who knew what would distract him from asking the next day and then the day after that. He cleared his throat, shrugging a little even though Anderson wasn't looking at him. All he had left of his love was the promises he'd made. "I made her a promise, sir, and then I forgot about it." He prayed his tone told the human everything he'd never be able to say.
Anderson's shoulders sank lower for a second, but then he straightened and squared them, reaching up to close the collar on his uniform. "Come in, then." The captain sat at the desk and didn't invite Garrus to sit. "What did you promise her?" he asked, cutting straight to business.
Garrus stood at parade rest, feeling a profound relief at Anderson's professionalism. "She asked me to make sure you never forget about her little sister, sir."
Anderson let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Forget?" He rubbed his fingers across his brow a couple of times. "Small chance of that." He flipped a thumb toward the chairs at the table. "Pull up a chair."
(A-N: FI passed 100,000 views yesterday . . . I am floored and so very grateful. Thanks to everyone who reads and all the love to those who check in every chapter or couple of chapters to let me know how I'm doing, or to weigh in with theories and observations. You make my days, and I love the conversations that come out of those reviews. Just an FYI, I can't answer questions in guest reviews . . . not that I'll answer whether or not Sassy is coming back. That would be a giant spoiler either way. And, of course, thanks to my betas with their unflagging efforts to help improve the story-telling. All the love. ALL the love.)