Parsophin - Ancient turian version of cavalry. Warriors rode into battle on Loraus Montum (large armoured four-legged reptile analogues that have since gone extinct due to a highly selective breeding process.)
Buratrum - The realm of the spirits of dishonourable association.
Karifratrus - a blood oath made between turians, bonding them as siblings in honour rather than blood. It has its origins in ancient times where 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.
8 Days ASD
Shepard grinned and leaned back in the grass, tilting her face up to the sun. "You picked a hell of a place for our second date." Her bright emerald stare focused on Garrus. After a second, she tilted her head to one side, a gentle smile just kissing her lips. "You know, I've been thinking about something. You have a nickname for me, but I don't have one for you. Well, outside of calling you C-Sec, and I can't really call you that now you've quit." The smile turned, one corner of her mouth lifting as her eyes sparkled with teasing. "That hardly seems fair."
His heart began to pound against his spine at the heat in her stare. Garrus stretched out on his side, the grass cool and lush against the bare plates of his torso as he cradled his head in his hand. He reached out to caress one freckled cheek with his thumb, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I've had a few nicknames in my time. None of which I want to hear from these lips." Dragging the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, he smiled. "I like it when you use my name."
She kissed his thumb then rolled over onto her belly, her elbows and forearms braced in the grass, her feet raised and swinging a little. The simple joy in the child-like movement filled his chest with a beautiful ache as she wheedled, "Come on, you can tell me. I promise not to use any of them. I just want to know my competition."
His grin widened. "You don't have any competition, Kahri. Not on any level." He laughed, the lightness of her mood infectious. All the old fear and hesitancy had fled, leaving her so wonderfully free. He closed his eyes, allowing contentment and love to saturate every particle of his being.
The grass next to him rustled, and he sensed the presence of a stalking predator. Inhaling, he drew in a deep breath of the sun-warmed perfume of her. Hot strands of silk brushed his skin, tickling along his keel, then the moist caress of her lips tugged at his mouth. "Please," she whispered, kissing along his mandible until she reached his aural canal. "I promise by the holy light of the Enkindlers to make it worth your while." She pushed on his shoulder, rolling him over onto his back.
"Ow, mind the fringe." Grumbling despite his now wide grin, he sighed and adjusted his folded tunic to support his neck. "Fine, as long as you leave the Father of Light out of this." He paused just long enough to make her wriggle impatiently before he said, "Ridgefield called me Rookie."
Shepard nipped him, her flat teeth scraping the back wing of his mandible. He shuddered, a shockwave of pleasure rolling down his entire body as she said, her breath warm on his hide, "That's not fair. I know that one." She half-leaned against his side, her arm resting across him, just beneath his keel. Leaning down, she rested her chin on his chest. "Come on, tell me something real."
His sigh erupted with perfect melodrama and just the right mix of indulgence and sorrow. "Fine. When I was a boy, my father called me Betru." The old name sparked a small burst of warmth. He hadn't thought about those days in a long time. The endless drilling with rifles . . . that he recalled with excruciating clarity, but the affectionate name . . . he'd forgotten.
Shepard perked up at that. "What does it mean?" Those keen, brilliant eyes stared into his, her joy at being allowed into his past palpable.
He stroked his talons through her hair. "It's the common name of a raptor that lives in the highland forests on Palaven. Their eyesight is so keen that they hunt even through the thick forest canopy." He tucked his off-side arm under his fringe to pillow his head a little. "Pari started teaching me to shoot a sniper rifle even before I was big enough to hold it properly."
"And you hated it because you wanted to be perfect, and you probably couldn't hit the broadside of a barn like that." She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled up until she stared straight down into his face. "My wonderful perfectionist wanting so badly to make his pari proud."
For a moment, Garrus thought his heart would punch a hole straight through his chest. He reached up, tracing the lines of her face with gentle talons. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.
She bent down to kiss him, her elbows leaning on his shoulders as her lips moved over his mouth, their tongues teasing gently, hers darting away like a preteril dashing into its burrow as soon as he tried to capture it. Her hands pressed his mandibles gently into his face, allowing him to get enough suction to trap it. The kiss deepened, Shepard arching into him, her breathing fast and deep. Giving up the coy pretense, her tongue caressed and flicked, making love to his with a new, wanton eagerness.
Heart pounding, a building—but not unpleasant—pressure behind his plates, he pulled her down into him, needing to feel her against every centimetre. Her clothes suddenly drew his ire. Too much cloth between his hands and her skin. He needed to feel it against his, to trace the map of scars as if acknowledging them could somehow heal them. Sliding his hand down her back, he tugged at the hem of her uniform, pulling it loose of her trousers. He meant to slip his hand under it, wanting to run the tips of his talons down the nubs of her spine and trace the sharp angle of her shoulder blade, but instead, she pulled away.
"Mmm." She rubbed the cool tip of her nose against his when they broke the kiss, coming up for air. "Why haven't I spent the last month telling you that I love you every chance I got?" She sat up, curling her legs under her. Smiling down at him, she leaned on one hand while the other traced lazy trails along the edges of his chest plates.
"I've known." He laid his hand on her waist. "And I think you knew long before I told you." He shifted a little, his fringe kinked under his head. He watched the wheels turn behind her eyes.
"Hmm," she muttered, tapping her lip with a fingertip. "I'm slow, but I started to get an inkling eventually. It's a bit easier to nail down when I realized that what I felt for the big, hot-headed dummy at my back wasn't just friendship and respect." She reached down, grabbed the hem of her uniform and swept it up over her head in a single, fluid move. Folding it, she leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest as she settled her uniform under his head. "Better?" she asked, sitting up.
After sorting it a bit, he nodded. "Much, but now you're left with just that harness thing." He stifled his smile, loving watching her expressions shift, the subtle variance from moment to moment. Shadows of clouds on the grass, they moved over the surface, changing constantly, if just the tiniest bit. She said so much without speaking a single word. He slipped a talon under the edge of the material, running it along the border, the swell of her breast soft and warm under his first knuckle. As he watched her eyes the whole time, he didn't see any fear or hesitation, just trust and love.
She swung a leg over him to straddle his stomach and braced the heels of her hands against his chest, staring down into his eyes. "Well, there's a solution to that, isn't there?" Reaching behind her, she unclipped it and let it slide down her arms. Her smile turned a little self-conscious as she revealed herself to him, but she kept her eyes fixed on his.
He encircled her hips with his hands and just looked up at her, her pale skin almost seeming to glow in the sunlight, her hair a bronze halo of curls around her face. Stroking her stomach with his thumbs, he waited for her to relax into him again. Her thighs gripped his waist with steel rigidity, betraying all the nerves and insecurities she didn't want to let him see. Once she settled back a little, he slid his hands up her sides, still caressing her, exploring slowly and gently.
His eyes never leaving hers, he swept his thumbs over the lower swell of her breasts. Smiling, she closed her eyes, her head tilting as if she were focusing on his touch. Bucking his hips a little to get some momentum, he sat up. Lifting Shepard, he settled her on his lap as he crossed his legs.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, leaning in to nuzzle her cheek. Spirits, she smelled so good, all traces of the soldier gone. Just sun-warmed skin, floral, and spice ... just her. He loved the soldier, how tough and talented she was ... how she turned battle into a dance as she strode through, seeming three metres tall and invincible. But the woman … so many layers and mysteries, gifts and surprises made up the woman, he knew he could spend a lifetime discovering only a portion of them. "Do you trust me, Shepard?" he asked again.
"With everything," she whispered, not opening her eyes.
He slipped his arms around behind her. "Lay back, just let yourself go." He laid her back. "Let your arms and head hang. I've got you." Watching her, he admired the courage it took to wage the conflict he saw going on beneath her skin. Her heart said trust, her mind said trust but didn't quite believe it could, and her body just refused to believe that it could be safe exposed, open and relaxed. In the end, her heart won, and she leaned back against the cradle of his arms, her lower legs wrapping around him.
Massaging the back of her neck with firm, gentle talons, he sat quietly, content to wait as long as she needed to wrestle down the last of the fear. She relaxed into him slowly, head lolling back, arms dropping to the side. Wrestling back the tightness in his throat, he smiled. A praela indeed.
"You're the bravest person I've ever met," he whispered, easing her back a little. He smiled when she didn't reply, just relaxing a little more, her breathing finally slowing and growing deeper with each inhalation. Over the next five minutes he just laid her back, massaging her gently. "Where are you?" he asked when he cradled all her weight in his arms.
"Right here, with you," she answered, her voice soft and dreamy. "I've always loved the way you hold me. I feel safer in your arms than I've felt anywhere in a long time."
He leaned down to nuzzle the base of her neck, the ribbons of scar tissue that covered almost every centimetre from her chin to the waist of her trousers felt like satin cords against the upper plate of his mouth. He wished he could go back in time to erase them for her, but supposed he'd have to settle for helping heal them. "You'll always be safe with me, Shepard."
Out of the clear sky, thunder rolled across the land, one booming roar after another. Shepard stiffened and sat up.
"Garrus? What's going on?"
His eyes opened, blinking at the near complete darkness as he tried to figure out what happened to the sun. His arms felt strange … barren and empty without Shepard's slight weight laying in them. Where had she gone?
In the end, smells reoriented him, working their way through the dream. The fresh summer breeze, sun-warmed grass, and Shepard vanished before the onslaught of citrus-scented cleaning fluid, stale food odours, and his father.
A low, disappointed sigh struggled out of his throat, warbling a little as sorrow strangled his vocal chords.
"Someone is pounding at the door," his father said, his voice gruff and sleepy. "That's what woke you up." Herros rolled over and pulled the blankets up to his fringe.
"Okay." Garrus threw back the blankets, swatting at them when they tangled around his feet. Whomever it was, they'd better be bleeding to death, or running to get help for someone who was bleeding to death. Even then, he might just make them pay for snatching him out of Shepard's arms.
Finally free of his argumentative bed linens, he grabbed his sidearm off the nightstand and stalked to the door. "What is it?"
"It's Lantar Sidonis. We met a couple of days ago," a turian voice called back.
Garrus's internal alarm began to shriek, but he packed it down and palmed the door. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
The turian gave him an apologetic shrug. "Sorry to wake you." He glanced past Garrus to the bed, his eyes snapping back to Garrus's face when the general stepped in front of him. "Urdnot Wrex sent me. Nihlus is wasted and refuses to leave Afterlife."
Garrus raised his brow plates. "And Wrex can't just toss a drunk turian over his shoulder and haul him home?"
Sidonis shrugged. "Nihlus started waving his shotgun around in the bar. We're lucky no one took the bait, or we'd probably still be getting our asses beaten. Wrex tried to get him out, but Nihlus threatened to shoot him. We tricked him into a side room, kicked everyone out, and Wrex is guarding the door. He said to take the car, and come to get you." Sidonis backed up a step, his subvocals rumbling his worry that he had stepped into the middle of something he shouldn't have. "Wrex tried your radio, but you didn't answer. So here I am."
Garrus cursed, imagining all the shit Nihlus could get himself into. "Does he have Aria's attention?" Dread stabbed him with shards of ice only to have anger at Nihlus's stupidity melt them into steam.
Sidonis chuffed. "Can't see how he could have avoided it, but she let us handle it."
Garrus shoved aside both the worry and annoyance. "Okay, give me a minute." He stepped back from the door, letting it shut, and headed straight for his armour.
His father shifted on the bed, his voice still grumpy and rough as he asked, "Do you want me to go along?"
Garrus unfastened his robe and pulled it off, trading it for his under armour. "Thanks, Pari, but no. I'm sure the three of us can wrestle Nihlus to a car and drag him back here." He sighed, a grumble tumbling out hot on its heels. "I hope this isn't going to become a nightly occurrence. At least last night, they were able to convince him to come back." He zipped up his underlayer and started sealing his armour into place. "I thought that if he was given something to focus on, he'd do better."
"Give him time," Herros said, less grumpy and more reasonable as he woke. "It's been a week. Let him grieve for a while yet. If you have to drag him home a few times, you do."
Shame at his impatience scalded under Garrus's plates. "Yeah, I guess." He snapped the two halves of the girdle together, then started armouring up his legs before lifting the torso section into place. In under five minutes, he was suited up and ready to go.
"If we're not back in an hour, send in the parsophin" he said as he hung his sidearm from his hip. He didn't dare take anything more powerful on the chance that Nihlus had Aria's guards riled up. He harboured no desire to start a small war.
Herros chuckled. "I will. Be careful."
Garrus smiled and headed to the door. "I will." He palmed the control and strode straight past Sidonis, who was leaning against the wall. "Let's go." He let out a grumbling sigh. "I was having a really good dream."
The pair didn't speak on their way to the car, Garrus content to let the other torin drive. Lifting off, Sidonis maneouvered the car through the buildings with the deft skill of someone long used to Omega.
Throughout the first ten minutes of the trip, Sidonis kept looking over at Garrus, making him squirm a little in his seat. Finally, Garrus ceased his in depth study of the front viewport and turned to meet one of the glances. "What? If you've got something to say, just say it."
Sidonis's mandibles dropped and pulled tight against his face. "Sorry, it's just … all your people call you general. Don't get me wrong, you've got the stern authority thing in spades, but you seem pretty young to be a general."
Garrus nodded. "If I'd stayed with external forces, I might be a captain by now." He chuffed. "I left the military because I didn't want to spend my life fighting wars, killing people. Joined C-Sec mostly out of a sense of duty, wanting to make my father proud, but it wasn't my choice of profession either." His turn to glance across the car. Why was he telling this complete stranger his life story?
"And now you're a general in a private army?" Sidonis chuckled. "Sounds like you're running in the wrong direction for a torin looking to escape battle."
Garrus nodded. "So it would seem, but there's a very real threat coming, and I made a promise to get the galaxy as prepared to face it as possible."
Sidonis nodded, and a good two minutes passed before he started glancing over again. "So, Nihlus and Shepard were together?" the other turian asked just as Garrus sucked in a breath to tell him off. "He's really torn up about her death. They must have been something."
Garrus let out the breath and shook his head, keeping his voice as flat as he could manage. "They weren't together."
He could see that took Sidonis by surprise, so he could guess what Nihlus had been doing at the bar. Hopefully, Nihlus hadn't spewed any sensitive intel.
Sidonis shrugged. "When my sister died, I was a lot like Nihlus." He chuffed and shrugged again, almost a hiccough of movement that clearly said he hadn't moved past the pain.
"How long has it been?" Garrus asked. His thoughts gravitated to Sol and his ailing mother. Damn, he needed to get back home for a few days.
"A cycle. Well, a cycle on Omega anyway." Again, that slight, spastic shrug. "Gangs got her. Don't know which one, probably Blood Pack. They just grab females off the street." A laugh so filled with rage that it came out sharper than a scalpel, sliced the air between them. "Not just females. Heard of others." A hard, demanding stare pinned Garrus with the rage and fear behind it. "Is your army going to be one more thing the people on this rock have to survive, General?"
After a second of hesitation, Garrus reached out to lay a hand on the torin's shoulder. "No, Sidonis. In fact, within the next year, I intend to have the gangs all but driven off this rock." A firm nod met Sidonis's skeptical frown. "You could help with that if you had the mind to."
They finished the rest of the drive in silence.
They got out of the car half a block from the front door, the thumping, disjointed rhythms of the music hitting him like a giant, padded fist.
"Damn, that's loud," he called over the racket, just barely resisting the urge to clap his hands over his aural canals. "How are the people inside not deaf?" Losing the battle, he covered one side of his head, his tympanic membrane begging for mercy with sharp, stabbing cries.
Sidonis laughed, this one lighter than the last, but still angry. "It's no worse inside. Aria pipes it out here to keep the people trapped in line mollified." He stopped and turned to stare at Garrus for a long few seconds, his gaze searching for something. Seeming to find it, he frowned. "You're trying to hide it, but you're as messed up as Nihlus." A decisive nod seemed to congratulate himself on his deduction. "My father would like you. You're obviously a very good turian. Still, I can see you're in a lot of pain."
Where had that come from? Uncomfortable, Garrus brushed past, avoiding the correct, but inappropriate observation. Turians didn't draw attention to one another's weaknesses as a rule.
"Sorry," Sidonis called, hurrying to catch up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just blurted that out. I see things. Most of the time, I don't show the good sense to just shut up about them." He shrugged. "My sister always said it would be considered a gift if I could just keep my mouth shut."
Garrus just set his jaw against a testy reply and strode for the line at the door. "Are we going to have to wait here?"
Sidonis trotted after him. "No. Aria knows I work for Mordin. She likes him, which gets us past the goons at the door." Sidonis strode up the line, nodding to a batarian bouncer as he passed.
Dim and grungy, like the rest of Omega, the long tunnel entrance into the bar flickered orange and red with holographic flame. Whose afterlife was this place? His people's mythology spoke of a realm set aside for those who died dishonourably, but if he recalled his tutor correctly, it was cold and dank. As far as he knew, asari didn't believe in any sort of buratrum. In fact, as far as he knew, only a couple of the human religions believed in a flaming realm of eternal punishment. It said a great deal about Omega that the concept of hell seemed the most fitting theme for Aria's club.
Garrus stepped through the inner doors to Afterlife and stopped, letting Sidonis walk ahead. People packed the place, some dancing, most standing around in small groups tossing back overpriced alcohol. Foggy smoke hung like a cloud layer just above Garrus's head-level. Anyone who expected people to take care of the air somewhere so reliant on a small supply of it would have been disappointed. As would anyone who expected the air recyclers to actually clear the smoke away. He ducked down a little as he pushed into the crowd. He didn't begrudge others their bad habits, spirits knew he had one or two, but he didn't enjoy smoke inhalation.
Grateful not to see nor hear Nihlus, he weaved his way to the side room. A turian with muddy brown famila notas intercepted him halfway across the floor.
"Aria wants to speak with you," the turian yelled over the cacophony of music, conversations, and noise.
Garrus glanced up at the queen's throne then shook his head. "It's three in the morning. I'm just here to pick up a friend. Another time."
The turian stared him down, neither moving nor speaking until Garrus tried to step around him at which point, he merely sidestepped to place himself back in his path.
"Do you have a name?" Garrus called.
"Name's Grizz." The turian tilted his chin up, trying to look proud and arrogant, but the rest of his posture stayed slumped and defeated, spoiling the effect.
"Really?" Garrus chuckled. "Your parents give you that name?" He shook his head and tried to step around him. "I'll just take my friend and go." When Grizz just stepped in front of him again, he sighed. "Fine, in the spirit of getting to return to my bed at some point tonight, lead on."
Grizz nodded with an expression that said Garrus would have gotten home to bed faster without arguing, turned and made his way through the throng.
Garrus followed, noting the ridiculous number of guards lurking about. Aria could take out a decent squad singlehandedly if the reports were accurate. The guards had to be for show. They climbed two flights of stairs to come face to face with the pirate queen on her throne.
Aria sat easily, smug and aloof, one leg crossed over the other, her hands resting in her lap. Both her smile and head cocked to one side. "General Vakarian, thank you for deigning to speak with me."
Garrus raised a brow plate. "What can I do for you, Aria? I came to take my people home." Odd, but he didn't feel much of anything when faced with Aria in the flesh. At least as a concept, a threat looming out in the ether, she'd made him nervous, but just then … nothing.
She nodded and shifted a little. "Yes, poor Nihlus. He's taking Shepard's death particularly hard. Funny, but the last time you were here, I thought the two of you were together." Another sly smile crawled across her lips as she stared into his eyes. "She looked at you with such … ." The smile faded. "Ah."
Forcing his entire body into a stoney, stoic mirror, Garrus cocked a hip and crossed his arms. "Can I help you with something, Aria, or can I take my people home?" He watched her, getting almost nothing back from her other than haughty disdain, although she did seem genuinely sorry about Shepard. Maybe his fiery little praela had made herself a better friend than she'd thought.
Aria stood and turned to look out over the club. "You want to build an army here. I think that warrants keeping an eye on you." Her shoulders twitched a little, unconscious shrugs that made him smile. Not nearly as casual as she wanted to appear.
"I harbour no desire to run Omega, Aria. Omega suits our purpose. Leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone." He held himself still despite the urge to twitch and a growing itch behind his right mandible.
"I know what Shepard thought was coming," she said, spinning around to face him. "Was she delusional? Was that dreadnought just a geth tool, or was it alive?"
"Nazara was a Reaper, a living machine, and just the vanguard of an army of them." He hesitated, uncertainty tangling up in his guts. Should he lay it all out? Chances were that Aria knew it all anyway and was just testing to see how cooperative he intended to be. "Thousands of those things are trying to find a way back into the galaxy from dark space."
Her chin tilted back up, but her throat convulsed a little, showing fear. Good, maybe she wasn't quite the horror that he believed. Maybe a spark of decency still hadn't been completely suffocated in the vacuum of her spirit. "They wiped out the Protheans?" she asked, shoring up her wall of inscrutability.
He wondered if she was playing him, then realized he was too tired to give a crap. Let her. "They did, and every galactic civilization back millions of cycles." Straightening, he said, "We're here to prepare for them, not to depose you. I will, however, give you fair warning. I intend to wipe out the merc bands. Blood Pack, Eclipse, Blue Suns … they're all going down."
A twisted little smile told him what her words confirmed a moment later. "Do try to be entertaining, we get so little good theatre on Omega." Sitting back on her bench, she neatly crossed her legs and tucked her hands into her lap. "I'll look forward to the increase in weapon sales."
He chuckled, a charged, electric rumble. "Make sure to sell them the good stuff. I can't be bothered to loot the corpses for crap."
A genuine smile greeted that. "I think we understand one another, General."
Ice and steel reflected it back. "I don't think we'll ever understand one another, Aria, but a civil detente will do." He tilted his head. "Good night." He turned away from her crooked smile, knowing that she believed she'd gotten to him.
"The council has eyes watching you, even now," she called after him, her tone one of mixed sadistic curiosity and satisfaction. "How long do you think they'll leave you alone?"
He just kept going. She could believe that she'd gotten to him. He had no time or patience for games, and Aria T'Loak was the least of his problems. Movement from the bottom of the first flight of stairs grabbed his attention as a familiar face got up from a table. The merc from Donovan Hock's mansion fell in behind Garrus, following him down to the club floor.
"Heard you talkin' up there," the scarred man said from behind Garrus's shoulder. "You think you're going to take down the Suns, do you?"
Garrus didn't look back as he weaved through the crowd. "I am, along with any other gang that preys on Omega's residents." Stopping just before he reached the access to the side room, he turned to face the other man and said, "Massani, right?"
"Yeah, what's it to you?" The merc leered at him, his one milky, blue eye accentuating the expression into something that he seemed to believe should be intimidating. Massani puffed out his chest, bristling as if he expected Garrus to challenge him.
"If you're interested in helping that process along, maybe earning a respectable living, head over to Kima district one of these days." With that he continued down to the door. As much as he didn't want to bring personal grudges into the fold, he respected that Massani hadn't had to help Hock's victims, but did. Nor had he asked for payment, even though he gladly accepted what Shepard offered. Either way, he might just make a solid addition to the core group.
"Garrus," Wrex greeted, his voice low but carrying. He stood on the left hand side of the door, his shotgun in his hand, but hanging next to his leg. "Be careful in there. Nihlus … ." The krogan shrugged his massive shoulders, the simple gesture filling Garrus with dread. Wrex seldom seemed at a loss, tackling things with nothing more than bravado and violence if he needed to.
"He's lost it, Garrus," Martin chimed in. "He's just sitting there, staring at … ." Shaking his head he jerked a thumb behind him toward the door. "Maybe it's best if you see for yourself."
A quick nod and he pushed past them, palming the door. He stepped through, needing a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Nihlus sat in the corner under a table, his back pressed against the wall. The orange glow of his omnitool made the white sweeps of his familia notas reflect like flames against the deep red of his hide. The Spectre's shotgun sat on the floor next to his leg, within easy reach.
"Nihlus?" Garrus took a step toward the other torin, leaning down a little. His mandibles pulled in tight and brow plates dropped in a worried scowl when Nihlus showed no sign of knowing Garrus was even there. "What's going on?"
Voices came from the omnitool, drawing Garrus's attention to the small vidscreen open above Nihlus's arm. It took a second, the volume was so loud that it distorted Nihlus and Anderson's voices, but then the conversation registered.
"I need to contact the Alliance parliament and ask them to send extra security personnel to cover Udina," Anderson said.
Icy talons scratched their way down Garrus's carapace, claws ripping furrows through the cartilage as he placed the conversation. "Nihlus, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely making it out through the constriction closing his throat.
"The council is usually guarded by a multiracial force assigned from C-Sec with Spectres stepping in for high profile events or where security is particularly risky," Nihlus replied. "They probably won't be happy about Alliance personnel."
Garrus heard his voice in the background, but talked over the reply, trying to drown it out. "Nihlus, shut it off. Is this what you've been spending your time doing? Torturing yourself with your hardsuit recording."
"This is it, right here," the Spectre said, pointing a trembling talon at the vid. "When the civilians get off the elevator, I should have stepped up to block her." He keened long and offkey. "There it is, the moment I could have saved her." Slumping against the wall, he let his hand drop. "I've killed her more than a hundred times since that alley. Every time that fucking moment mocks me." He groped for his weapon, pulling the compact shotgun into his lap. "Every time she just dies again, because I wasn't paying attention to the only thing … the only being in the whole fucking galaxy I loved."
Garrus approached slowly, keeping his eyes on Nihlus's weapon. The energy coming off the Spectre grated against his nerves like a metal file … it screamed of desperation, warning him of how close the Spectre was to doing something to make everything so much worse. "Nihlus, we can never save her. That moment has come and gone." A soft keen broke free, and he reached up, raking his talons over his fringe, trying to blink the tears from his eyes. "But, if you do what I think you want to do … you will break us. All of us."
Two more impossibly slow, careful steps carried him a half-metre closer. Crouching down, Garrus reached out a hand. "Nihlus, give me the gun, and let's go home. This is no place for a Spectre."
Nihlus looked up at him, his gaze unfocused and wandering. "You think I want to kill myself, Vakarian?" He laughed, a sharp belch of rage and bitter humour. "She'd kicked my ass if I showed up because I ate a bullet." He held up his gun, staring at it with a longing that belied his words. "I want to, but I can't. I'd give anything to see her again, but not that way."
Garrus relaxed a little, grateful for that small piece of awareness. "Erase that recording, Nihlus, and let's go home."
"Home?" The Spectre frowned at the word, repeating it over softly as if tasting it. "Is that what we're doing, Vakarian?"
Garrus held out his hand. "Come on. Shepard doesn't want this for you. She expects better … the proud Spectre fighting to save the galaxy." He shrugged. "That was the torin she loved."
Nihlus's frown deepened, but he took hold of Garrus's hand and allowed him to help him up onto his feet.
They didn't speak as they left the room, Wrex and Butler taking the lead to clear a path, Martin and Sidonis falling in behind. Outside the bar, the music sliced into Garrus's head again. Was it actually louder outside or just seem so because of the absence of bar racket?
Nihlus stopped near the end of the line and turned his unsteady stare on Garrus. "At her memorial, you said I was your fratrin." He stumbled a little as if the pavement shifted under his feet. "Could you have shared her heart, Vakarian?" he asked, his words strangled enough to make Garrus believe he had a very real chance of being puked on.
Garrus met his stare for a moment, then shook his head. "This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion, Nihlus. Let's just get back to the base." He started back toward the cab stand, half dragging Nihlus along.
"I could have," the Spectre whispered, just audible over the music. "I couldn't have denied her anything, even you."
Garrus scowled at Nihlus and tugged him along. "Let's just get home before someone decides to shoot your drunken ass." He hoisted the torin up his shoulder a little further trying to redistribute his weight.
"Thanks for your help," Garrus said to Sidonis and Butler when they arrived at the cab stand. He poured Nihlus into the passenger seat and turned to shake their hands.
Sidonis spoke for them both. "Glad to help."
Garrus got into the cab and quickly set their destination before he glanced over at Nihlus. "If you're going to throw up, yell so I can land."
The Spectre grumbled and gave Garrus a belligerent scowl, but made the trip without befouling the car.
When they landed just outside the front door, it took both Garrus and Wrex to get Nihlus out of the cab and half-carry, half-drag him inside and up the stairs.
"Here," Garrus said, nodding toward his door. "This is as far as I'm willing to drag him. He can sleep it off on the couch." He palmed the door, taking more of Nihlus's weight so Wrex could let go. "Thanks for watching out for Nihlus. I'll see you two in the morning." He watched them head into the back hallway, then turned into the peaceful darkness.
"Why aren't you lying on a floor somewhere, Vakarian?" Nihlus asked as they crossed over the threshold. He pulled away, supporting his own weight on wobbling legs, his tone suddenly so even that it sent a shiver up Garrus's spur. "Why aren't you going over and over her last words until you have to drink them out of your skull? Did you even love her?"
Garrus swallowed the small asteroid that Nihlus's words lodged in his throat. A sigh, long and trembling with a keen he refused to let escape, forced its way up as the blockage cleared. He stared back at the Spectre. "You think that alley doesn't play over and over in the back of my mind until I think that it'll drive me mad, Nihlus? Every single thought, every single word I say over the course of a day has to fight its way through those moments." He pulled back, suddenly needing to focus all his will into not burying his fist in the Spectre's gut. "I had my arm around her when he killed her." A throaty keen made it out before he beat it back. "Do you know what that feels like, Nihlus? I had my arm wrapped around the woman I intended to spend the rest of my life with when she was murdered. And I did nothing to stop it."
He fought back the urge to dump Nihlus in his own room and guided the Spectre toward the coffee table, sitting him down. Who knew what the torin would do if left on his own. Aspirate on his own vomit more than likely. Garrus sat next to him. "Look, you loved her, and you knew she loved you, but you never got a chance to hold her the way I did. I'm not trying to take away how much that sucks, Nihlus. I know it hurts like hell. I knew her three months, and already I couldn't breathe if I didn't see her for a couple of hours."
Nihlus tipped off the seat, landing on his side. After a second or two of looking around as if trying to figure out how he ended up on the floor, he leaned up on his elbow, swaying unevenly. "How can you be … so … that?" He tossed a dismissive gesture at Garrus. "Soulless stone." He belched, and for a moment, Garrus thought the Spectre would introduce him to the last litre of brandy he'd tossed back, but Nihlus swallowed it. "I'm empty," he spat the words, along with a healthy cloud of noxious stomach contents and alcohol fumes.
The stench sent Garrus's stomach rolling, but years of practice forced the reaction aside. One didn't spend long in C-Sec without becoming very familiar with vomit and the associated stink.
Garrus stared at Nihlus for a moment, then shook his head. "How have you managed to do and see as much as you have and still be such a complete dumbass, Nihlus?" The Spectre let out a belligerent belch and started trying to shove himself up off the floor, but Garrus waved him off. "Don't pull anything." Sighing, he dragged the back cushions off the couch. It took him a bit to find a couple of extra blankets and a pillow in the bathroom cupboard, but then he made up a bed on the leather. "Come on, get up here before you pass out and have to spend the night on the floor."
Offering a hand, he levered Nihlus up off the floor and over onto the couch. Once he managed to throw the Spectre's feet up onto the cushions, he grabbed another blanket and spread it over him. "Are you going to throw up?" He leaned down, trying to see through the hazy fog of booze to Nihlus's actual state of being. Not possible. "You're not even going to be able to find the head, are you?"
Sighing, he headed downstairs, and rooted through cupboards until he found a container big enough, then returned upstairs and set it at Nihlus's head. "If you need to throw up, do it in the basin, please."
"How do you do it, Vakarian?" Nihlus asked, his voice a slurred whisper.
Starting to feel like every other breath was a sigh, Garrus sat on the edge of the coffee table. "How do I do what, Nihlus?"
One tearing, unfocused eye stared up at him from the pillow. "Keep breathing."
Garrus let out a huff of breath, deflating a little. His armour cut into him, reminding him that he wore it. "I do what she wanted me to do, Nihlus," he replied as he removed his gauntlets. He shook his head and shrugged a little. "Sometimes when I'm planning or working, I'll swear that she's right beside me, pointing something out that I've missed or whispering suggestions to me. And when that happens, I feel peace. It's not much, but it's better than nothing." He removed the torso section and set it behind him on the other couch. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his thighs. "She's only gone if we forget her."
Head cocked off to the side a little, he met Nihlus's stare. "Do you want to forget her, Nihlus? Do you want to forget the way she couldn't laugh without that mischievous glint in her eye, or the way her lips felt against your hide?" It took a bit to swallow, but then he shook his head and leaned closer. "You asked me if I could have shared her love, but it was a stupid question, Nihlus. You know I already did."
Nihlus stared back, brow plates drawing together, his mandible fluttering in and out a little. After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, you did, and with a lot more class than me."
Garrus resisted the urge to agree with that and peeled off his gloves, staring at the palm of his hand for several heartbeats. "She's dead, Nihlus, but she's not gone. Between us, we can keep her alive." An ironic chuckle escaped as he pressed a talon into the pad of softer flesh at the base of his thumb talon. Watching the bead of indigo grow against the steel of his hide, he shook his head. "Never thought of myself as the sort to do this, but … adapt and grow, right?"
Holding out his hand, he pinned Nihlus with a frank stare. "We'll swear this, become brothers for her. We'll work to keep her alive and with us, and find a way for you to discover joy in carrying on in her name."
Nihlus wrestled himself up onto his elbow, his face frozen in an expression of surprise, but something grateful and lonely dwelled beneath it. "Brothers?" His mandibles dropped. "Both bonded to a dead woman." A bitter laugh rattled out of him. "Fitting, I suppose." He grumbled, heavy on the subvocals, then started a small war with his glove that Garrus thought for a good minute that he'd lose.
Finally wrestling it off his talons, Nihlus pressed a talon point into the same spot and gripped Garrus's hand, talons laced. "Until and beyond death," he said, his voice low, solemn, and almost sober sounding.
"Until and beyond death," Garrus repeated. "Get some sleep, and don't forget to use the basin if you're sick." He released Nihlus's hand and stood, not letting himself examine what he'd just done too closely. Retiring to the head to finish getting out of his armour and back into his robe, his mind wandered to what Aria had told him about the council having eyes placed everywhere to watch them.
"Let them watch," he grumbled to his reflection in the mirror. Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter, he stared over the sink into his own eyes, searching to see what Shepard had seen … what they all seemed to see. Was there a general in there, or just a pretender? "We'll just have to be ready if they move against us," he said, testing it out. Despite the bravado of his words, his heart thumped sluggish and cold in his chest. Could they be ready to take on the forces the council could muster? "Guess we'll have to be." He shoved himself away from the sink, still not sure he saw anyone of note looking back, then palmed the light.
He almost returned to his bed, but then found himself walking out the door and down the stairs. Before he knew it, he stood on the bridge, looking up through the narrow gap between buildings to the dark bulk of the asteroid. "You left me with a hell of lot to do," he whispered to the silent district. Not even the sound of skycars permeated the heavy, fetid silence. He drew a breath, his sinuses burning with industrial cleaning fluid and the lingering smell of burning corpses.
"I don't know if I can do this, Shepard." He winced a little, his mandibles spreading to flick once at the lie. He knew he could do it. Well, the war part anyway. Trying to keep Nihlus from self-destructing was something else entirely.
"I don't want to do this without you." The truth came out softer, drifting and fluttering in the still, stale air. "Nihlus is in bad shape, Shepard. I swore karifratrus with him tonight. He feels alone in the galaxy. I thought it might help with that. You'd probably kick my ass for doing it. Not sure how you'd feel about the oath." He let out a long breath. "It means something to turians though."
A lonely skycar flew overhead between the buildings. He watched it in silence until the lights vanished from sight. "Martin's here. He insisted on coming. That kid is almost as stubborn as you." He chuckled and turned, boosting himself up to sit on a crate. "He's impressed me, Shepard. He's got guts, good instincts ... he'll find a place here, so don't worry about him. I'll keep him safe like I promised I would."
"Martin reminds me a little of someone else," the deep, familiar voice of his father said. Garrus moved to jump down, but his father waved for him to stay where he was. "You always had good instincts, Garrus. You were always pointed in the right direction."
Garrus chuckled at the irony of having travelled so far to get hit with one of his father's oldest lectures. "Just taking the wrong path to get there," he grumbled under his breath.
Herros laughed and hopped up to sit next to him. "As much as I hate to let the old rhetoric die: no, not for a while now. Shepard ... she cleared things up for you, allowed you to see through all the nonsense that our little dramas seeded in your head." He let out a long, slow breath that laced a purring sound through his subvocals. "Your mother ... she's always known you'd figure things out. She's always trusted the universe, while I was afraid it would smash you to pieces. I should have seen how strong you are." He chuckled again, his subvocals soft, devoted and loving. "She's going to love my admitting that she's always been right."
Garrus glanced to his right, his gaze brushing the side of his father's head before returning to the long void of Omega filth. "She'll be glad to have you home if you go through with this retirement plan."
Herros shook his head. "Either that or kill me within the first week." Bracing his hands against the edge of the crate, he leaned forward, head tilted up to the narrow streaks of moving lights high above. "I can't say I'm excited about going into politics, but it's where I'm needed. We're a people mired in tradition, Garrus. It's not going to be easy to convince the Hierarchy or the military that there's an enemy coming that we can't fight using our tried and true methods."
Garrus nodded, not pointing out the understatement in his father's words. "Are there any who give you cause to hope?" He watched Herros out of the corner of his eye, noting the way his father's mandibles worked slowly in and out almost like bellows.
After a pause so long that Garrus gave up on getting an answer, Herros cleared his throat. "There are a few of the younger generation who will be my first attempts. Your sister will be the first."
Garrus felt a twinge of guilt. He'd intended to take Shepard home, to spend some time with his mother and Solana. After Shepard died, he hadn't even called. He'd have to remedy that as soon as he saw everyone off the next day. "I wouldn't underestimate Mother's abilities in the persuasion skill set either. She's talked me into a great many things over the cycles." Garrus chuckled.
"She has her ways, but … ." Herros let the sentence die out, then slid down to walk over to the railing. "You've done a very impressive job over the last couple of days, Garrus." He turned to look Garrus in the eyes. "I'm grateful you joined Shepard's team for a lot of reasons, but mostly because ... she gave me back my son." He stepped forward to pat Garrus's knee. "I'm headed back to bed. Try not to bounce around too much when you come in."
A soft, dry laugh answered that. "No, sir. I'll be careful not to wake you. Rest well."
"And you, once you're finished saying your other goodnight." He turned back. "Oh, and Garrus … I'm proud of what you did tonight with Nihlus."
Garrus smiled and nodded, then watched his father set off across the bridge toward the front door. After a few seconds he looked back out at the void. His father's praise warmed him like a steaming cup of amarceru in cold hands. He knew it wasn't empty praise, highlighting his earlier lie. The pieces of Shepard's plan lined up inside his mind, each root and branch of the organism fitting easily into the whole. The two days of discussion and planning had proven fruitful beyond his expectations. The next day, they'd go their ways and put their parts of the plan into action. Just as Shepard knew he would, he formed the trunk of the tree, the sturdy center that unified the different parts, overseeing it all.
He didn't need to give his brain time to settle … didn't need time to worry and process. It was sorted. He was ready. Smiling, he hopped down off the crate. "Pari, wait up, I'll walk back with you." He looked out over Omega and reached up to press the backs of his talons to his forehead. "Goodnight, Shepard. I love you." He smiled. "See you in a few minutes. We have a nickname debate to settle."