Trigger Warning for body horror and medical experimentation — if you want to skip this chapter, message me and I will tell you the plot so you don't have to read it.

Casarus - Prison or dungeon with the connotation of horror: a place of torture and death rather than a penal institution.

12 Days ASR

Garrus stumbled into the chamber. Legs numb, he dragged his talons, lurching to a stop when his boot caught on a crack in the floor. "Spirits … what the … ?" Less than a metre away, a still living torso twitched within a web of wires, four stark white eyes wide, its broad head thrown back. It looked like the same species he'd shot just before finding Nihlus. Garrus stared, mandibles hanging slack, unable to look away from where cables and conduits ripped through the shell of a husk and punched into holes drilled in the alien being's skull. Clamps and plating gleamed dully amidst meat, sinking metal teeth into flesh that still dripped the black blood-fluid. Revulsion tied his guts into knots and hauled them up into his throat.

"Fascinating, aren't they?" A figure moved behind the horrifying, macabre display, no more than a shadow against the glare of the sun searing through the high windows.

Her words jolted him hard enough that he finally managed to tear himself away from what had to amount to fifty or more victims. He wouldn't have wished that fate on the damned husks. Spirits … what madness … ? It didn't matter. Mordin and the geth could unravel the insanity later.

Holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the brilliance, Garrus struggled to track the speaker through the room, squinting to see past the glinting spirals of dust that swirled in the air like spirits. "Fascinating is not the word I'd use." He stepped closer to the wall of pieced together life forms, shuddering as a geth reached out a hand, grasping at Garrus's gauntlet. It let out a stuttering sort of groan, then the hand dropped.

Noveria.

"Are they suffering?" Shepard whispered.

"Geth do not feel pain as organics do." Legion replied. "This platform is experiencing a short in its motor functions. Higher level processes have ceased."

He hoped Legion was right and tried to ignore the fact that reaching out could hardly be mistaken for a twitch. "Is this geth aware?" Garrus demanded, wincing at the tight rasp of sound that clawed its way out of his throat.

"Yes." The shadow—female quarian by the sound of her accent—moved along the back wall, keeping just to the other side of a wall of shelves. "They must remain functional and aware to preserve their memory and hardware." The dark shape beckoned to him. "Come in. I am not often provided a chance to show off my work."

He took a step forward, keeping Ingrid levelled on the quarian best he could. "Why don't you come out here where I can see you?" Sidestepping around a table covered in surgical instruments, he tried to open a line on her flank, but she scooted further in.

"I don't think so, General. You appear far too competent with that rifle even in your current state." She held out an arm, her hand appearing past the end of the shelf to gesture to a medical table and the geth strapped to it. "If you hang it up, you could assist me in salvaging this prototype."

Garrus ground to a halt and stared, dizziness and fatigue sending his mind reeling as he tried to decipher what he was looking at. Geth. The lower legs and arms told him that much, but other than that, it looked like a jumbled together pile of parts. The left side of the geth's head and neck had been cut away like some sort of macabre anatomical model. White fluid oozed out of tied-off hoses and from between parts. "What in … ?" He stumbled forward a step.

A small shower of sparks erupted from the remaining half of the geth's head lamp. It tried to raise its head, an effort that resulted in a series of wrenching, spasmodic movements. Twitching hands grasped within their shackles, almost as if trying to climb free.

Garrus flinched and turned away, everything he saw in that appalling moment calling Legion a fucking liar. By any definition he could imagine, agony lay displayed on that table.

"Vak … k … k … kar … r … r … rian G … g … gen … er … er ...er … ." The stutter died.

Time slammed to a halt, stuttered forward, then collapsed, trapping Garrus in a singularity. "Legion!" Smashing the shackles of disbelief, he whirled back toward the geth. "Dear spirits, Legion." Stumbling toward the table, he searched for anything he recognized. And then he saw it, Alliance armour shrouding Legion's chest. The armour it used to replace the pieces taken from Shepard's locker.

"Are … ?" He executed the question. Stupid. He didn't need to question the geth as to its status, he just needed to get them out of there.

"It's a fascinating prototype," the quarian continued, apparently oblivious to the bad melodrama he was acting out two metres away. "Integrating several of its unique components, I should be able to complete my device." Slipping around Legion, she managed to move into cover behind the grisly web without exposing herself to the bullet he desperately wanted to send tearing through her skull.

"What the hell is this thing? Why have you done to these … ?" What did he call them? People? Exhaustion dropped the gates on his control just as a breaker of disgust and rage rolled in. It crashed through, finding form in an incoherent, guttural roar.

"The geth cannot be hacked for more than a few seconds," she said, her voice sharp and excited. "Each time you attempt to override a geth's core programming, it becomes more resistant to subsequent attempts. Following attempts also control it for a shorter period of time. Our scientists have thrown themselves at the problem for centuries to no avail, but then the so-called heretics joined the Reapers and sealed the fate of all geth."

The quarian finally stepped out into the open.

"Admiral Daro'Xen?" How had the admiral ended up on Haestrom? Suppose that signed the death certificate for her claims of being quarantined on the Moreh. He raised Ingrid, couching the stock against his shoulder.

"Yes, yes." She flipped a single, emphatic hand at him as if brushing aside an annoying insect. "I purchase several of the husk creatures from a human merchant and discovered within their brains and synthesized nervous systems the Reapers' control matrices." As she spoke, her words tumbled out faster and faster.

Garrus circled, keeping the rifle aimed solidly at the center of her chest. Was it madness?

She paused for a breath at last. "Fascinating technology, but not enough, even when combined with the new geth platforms based on the prototype on the—"

"Legion! Its name is Legion," Garrus shouted, wincing a little as his voice echoed back. That echo bounced off Xen's nightmare, and a wave of choked moans and howls swept down its length. For a moment, the whole structure writhed, its denizens screaming their … what … anguish? Did husks and body parts feel anguish? Garrus turned away, braced heavily against one knee, rifle forgotten as he pressed his forearm against his mouth, struggling to keep not just his gorge, but his entire being from spewing out.

The din died down as Xen walked the length of her creation, speaking softly and stroking here and there as if comforting children. "What you choose to call the machine makes no difference." Either dismissing him as a threat or too enraptured by the details of her work to care, Xen stepped out into the open. A lover's touch caressed the top of one of the alien heads, following the broad, chitinous ridges. "I found these specimens three days ago. They staggered in the door, full of bullets."

Leaning down, she pressed her cheek to the cephalic shell, a melancholy sigh drifting from the speaker on her helmet. "The first one died before I could salvage its parts, but when I dissected it, I discovered something truly impressive. They're designed." She patted the still living one's head then stepped toward Garrus. "Imagine. Once, probably a lifeform as mundane as you or I, but now transformed into something remarkable." Her voice raised in pitch, words tumbling out faster as she spoke.

The last time Garrus saw Xen, she oozed an unruffled, relaxed sort of disdain, as if she considered herself so far above the rest of the galaxy that even moving would lower her to the level of her inferiors. Right then, her entire body vibrated with a frenetic, maniacal energy, and Garrus couldn't recall anyone ever having seemed so terrifying.

"Don't you see?" she snapped, grabbing the being's head by the jaw and craning it back. When he backed up a step, she shook her head and let the alien go. "Typical. No vision. Someone removed all weakness of the species they once were, creating the perfect servant race. The exact accomplishment the quarians attempted and failed. Inside that head is a node that allows one of its overseers to actually control it from the inside, to possess it. That and these … " She stepped back and drew his attention to several components. His eyes slid along the distinctive blue-black, slick lines, not wanting to come to rest on them. "... will allow me to correct our ancestors' mistakes and bring the geth back under quarian control."

Damn.

Garrus lunged toward her, his vision pounding in time with his heart. Rage demanded that he throw her down, stop her madness, but his strength sagged before he reached her, his thigh crashing into a table before he caught himself. "Those components are salvaged from Sovereign? And they're not shielded?" Well, that explained some of her crazy.

Another dismissive flick of her hand. "Of course, they're shielded. I'm not a beginner at dealing with dangerous technology, General." She reached up, running a hand over her headcloth, almost as if speaking with him amounted to such a labour that she needed to mop away the sweat. "At first, I thought the aliens and their control nodes would prove to be the last piece to my puzzle, but no. The last piece is contained inside that unit." An elegant roll of her wrist swept her hand toward Legion.

She strode past Garrus. "Would you like to assist?" Stopping next to Legion, she bent over to stare into what remained of the geth's optic. "Want to know something remarkable, General?"

He raised Ingrid, feeling finally returning to his hands. "No. I'm getting out of here, and I'm taking you with me."

She didn't react as he stepped up behind her. "That gun won't do you any good, General." A quick jut of her chin led his stare up to a turret mounted near the ceiling. He turned a slow circle to discover six more tracking his every movement. Another graceful roll of her hand dismissed them and his threat of violence. Perhaps it proved too uncivilized to acknowledge. "As I said, not a beginner dealing with dangerous technology."

"These new geth have a sense of platform self-preservation," Xen continued without hesitation. "Previously, they merely uploaded themselves to their server via high gain transmission and sacrificed the platform." She picked up a cutting laser. "But not these. I jammed their transmissions, of course, but they didn't even try." Fingers poked and measured, obviously looking for the best place to start cutting. Her tone became absent as she continued, her attention focused on her work. "Convenient for my purpose."

Garrus stepped forward, Ingrid's barrel sagging then recovering as he braced against a table. "Put the laser down, or I'll put a bullet through your skull." He tightened his talon on the trigger.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, my work here is far too important." The quarian spun, torch in one hand, a pistol in the other. "I told you that gun won't do you any good, General." Xen's arms and head jerked forward as the harsh cough of a shotgun roared from just behind Garrus. A nearly indistinguishable fraction of a second later, Garrus's shot spun her a half turn before she fell.

"Check her," Nihlus said, his voice barely more than a gasp. "There has to be a transmitter here somewhere."

Garrus stared at Nihlus for a couple of seconds. "Thanks." Bending over the quarian, he scanned her for life signs. "She's alive. Suit has sealed." He dosed her with medigel. Looking up at the Spectre, he shook his head. "You look half dead."

Nihlus sorted through Xen's desk, emerging victorious. "Who could die … with all that ... ranting?" he gasped, his breathing weak and choked with fluid. He tossed Garrus the transmitter and sank into the desk chair.

13 Days ASR

"Well, if it isn't General Vakarian," a familiar voice called, beckoning him from a gloriously restful oblivion. "Welcome back."

Garrus opened his eyes, the familiar surroundings of the Normandy's medbay drifting into focus as the fog rolled out. Although he couldn't boast racking up the frequent stay points that Shepard and Nihlus collected, he'd spent enough time in the small, dim medical suite to identify it immediately. Slowly, the memory of being extracted off Haestrom returned, filling in the blanks between Nihlus tossing him the transmitter and waking up.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Chakwas stepped into his line of sight, leaning over him a little. The bright orange of her omnitool blinded him, sending him into hiding behind eyelids pressed closed.

After considering her question for a few seconds, he nodded and peeked out through one eye. "No pain. How long have I been out?"

A nebulous shadow passed over her face, a subtle transition of muscle and tension, but it registered like someone slamming blinds down over a window. "Just under six hours. You've been through quite a lot." Her gaze slid from his face to the omnitool as she began entering information, the instrument holding just a fraction too much of her attention.

"How's Nihlus?" He tried to lift his head to look at the bed next to his. Nothing moved. He couldn't sit up. "Doctor?" Try as he might to keep his escalating panic locked down, it burrowed out through his second larynx.

"General." Chakwas pressed a warm, gentle hand against his shoulder. "You've sustained serious injuries, but you're going to be fine. Your physical condition is precarious and requires you to remain immobile. I've placed you in a restraint field so that you don't exacerbate your injuries before I complete your treatment." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Nihlus. "Spectre Kryik is also in critical but stable condition. I intend to keep him in an induced coma for another 48-72 hours, after which time, he should realize a complete recovery."

Garrus scowled, his mandibles snapping hard at the thick mire of medical jargon. "What happened to us?" He tried to lift his head again, an aggravated grumble meeting his immobility. "How did we get hurt? Where are the other members of the team I took to the shipyard?"

The door opened. "One answer at a time, son," a deep, familiar voice called from the threshold. Anderson stood just inside, silhouetted against the light from the mess. His voice held tight to its usual, unflappable professionalism, but the rigidity along the captain's jaw and the tendons standing out in his neck told Garrus that the human was doing just that: holding on tight.

Garrus opened his mouth, but one of Anderson's hands leapt up, palm braced to intercept the deluge of questions.

"Your teams are both aboard the Normandy. They're safe and recovering," the captain said, taking a couple of steps toward the bed. "Whoever took you off the station wasn't interested in them, just you and Nihlus."

"Interested in us?" Forcing himself to relax into the rock-hard mattress a little, Garrus let out a long breath. What did these mystery people want with him and Nihlus? Was it tied to Archangel? The council? As far as the council knew, Nihlus had infiltrated Archangel on their behalf. But if not them … it had to be someone working for the Reapers. But who?

Anderson cleared his throat, derailing Garrus's train of thought. The general took another long breath, that one sending a wraith of pain shivering through his chest. He needed to find out what happened before he started trying to puzzle it all through. As a starting point, the fact that the rest of the team remained uninjured was very good news. He tried to lift his head to get a better look at Anderson, then let out a frustrated grunt and turned a glare at the doctor. "I'd like to be able to move."

She shrugged and turned all in one motion, walking over to her desk. "I'd like to be able to take a week off." Her joke falling flat, she sighed. "Please, just give us time to explain." Returning a moment later with her chair, she rolled it over to Anderson.

Garrus tracked the chair to the Normandy's captain. "I don't remember anything past the station losing power until I woke up in some sort of casarus under Haestrom." He looked to Anderson. "What the hell happened? Was it Daro'Xen?" Browplates sinking over his eyes, heavy and skeptical, he shook his head—a slight tremor side to side. "No, she seemed to be there alone. She couldn't have moved us."

Anderson pushed the chair over next to Garrus's shoulder. "It wasn't Xen. We found no trace of any biological matter belonging to either you or Nihlus in her lab." He lowered himself onto the seat with a slight 'old-man' groan. Garrus's father had started making nearly that same sound when he was promoted to Commander at C-Sec.

"Biological matter?" A viscous soup of fear, rage, and denial rolled up his throat.

"Have patience with us, General. This is going to take a bit to explain," Anderson said. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and steepled his hands, fingertips pressed together. The captain let out a harsh huff of a sigh. "First things first." He stared at Garrus over the temple of those fingers. "You and Nihlus were missing for ten days."

Garrus twitched under the restraints again as his body insisted he sit up and take action … do something other than lie there, trapped like an insect in concrete. "Ten days?" He turned a predatory stare on the doctor as her hand pressed against his shoulder again. A bitter chuff rumbled from his throat. "Can't you release my head, at least?"

Her studied expression of professionalism drooped for a moment, sagging like melted wax before snapping back into place. "Yes, I can, but General … Garrus … I need to explain your injuries first." She leaned a hip against his bed and folded her hands in front of her.

Anderson spoke instead of Chakwas, forcing Garrus's attention away from his attempt to stare the doctor into submission. "From what we can gather from your hard suits and medical scans, the station registered a massive power surge routed through the orbs you found on the bridge. All your team members lost consciousness at the same moment. You were removed from the space yard two hours after you blacked out."

Anderson sat back, stretching his spine a little, shifting uncomfortably, but Garrus didn't think it could be blamed on the chair. "You and Nihlus were moved to a cloaked vessel hiding within the system … most likely low orbit around Haestrom … and … ."

"And … ?" Garrus prompted when no one made any move to finish that sentence.

Dry, gentle fingers pressed down on his forearm. "You were both subjected to extensive medical testing and experimentation," Dr. Chakwas said, her tone the carefully modulated one he'd heard her use with Shepard enough times to know it was meant to stave off the crazy.

"How extensive?" His heart stopped for a few seconds, then began to pound, but … . After an entire life of adrenaline, his heart thumping quick, hard, and steady against his keel, a sick sort of terror oozed out into his chest cavity. His heart beat, but against nothing. No answering echo followed each thump.

Chakwas glanced over at Anderson. Garrus caught the captain's nod out of the corner of his eye while remaining intent on Chakwas, her face seeming the only fixed point in a growing maelstrom of madness.

"The internal examination reached a level of such invasive brutality, it would not be excessive to call it vivisection," she said, meeting his frantic stare with solid, calm compassion. "Extensive cybernetics were surgically implanted throughout your body."

Garrus strained against her field, the wraiths of pain growing claws. "Why?" he demanded. "What were they for?"

"Everything from strength and motor skill enhancement to what appear to be control nodes, judging by the placement of the scarring." Chakwas patted his arm, the gesture oddly soothing all things considered. "Then it appears you were placed down on Haestrom to fight."

Could what they were telling him get any more bizarre? Spirits, what if it did? He closed his eyes. "Fight? What enemy?" A horrifying picture appeared in his head. Whoever it was, they took both he and Nihlus … .

"We don't know," Anderson replied. He paused, then sucked in a quick breath as if reading Garrus's mind. "Not Nihlus. Neither one of you show any evidence of attacking the other, and judging by the wounds, whatever or whomever they were … there were a lot of them."

"So they took us apart, put us back together with cybernetics, then sent us into some sort of sadistic deathmatch?" He struggled again, the thread growing into a burn that spread through his chest. "Are the cybernetics still inside us?"

"No," Dr. Chakwas replied. "They removed the implants, used metal plates to support where they'd cut through bone, and sealed up the areas where they removed pieces of your carapace. Before they left you on the planet, they administered massive amounts of medigel and analgesics."

"Let me up," he said, voice low, soft, and dangerous. Beneath the blankets, he forced himself into complete stillness.

Chakwas pressed her hand to her face, hiding half of it as she let out a long breath. "Garrus … there is extensive damage. Once I rebuild your ribcage and keel structure, I'll be able to release you from the field, but until then, you must remain still." She activated her omnitool and, with the press of a control, released his head.

"Rebuild … ?" Dear spirits, how bad was it? He lifted his head, the doctor jumping in to support him with a hand just below his fringe. Black ice crackled through his cells like frost creeping across grime-covered glass. One look at his silhouette under the blankets told him how extensive his injuries remained. "My keel." Searching eyes focused up at the doctor.

She gave him a reassuring smile that didn't touch the ice. "We're on our way back to Omega. Between Mordin and I, we'll get you back up on your feet, keel intact, within a few days." When she tried to ease his head back onto the pillows, he resisted.

"Show me the rest," he said, using his own, dead, expressionless control to buttress his courage.

"It appears you were retrieved after each fight, your wounds were healed, cybernetics were exchanged or enhanced, then they sent you down again," the doctor said, her tone clipped. "I would have kept you in a coma like Nihlus until you were healed, but I need you awake for the next part of the procedure." That hand patted his arm again. "It might be best if you wait, Garrus."

"I want to see what they did to me, doctor." A little of the rage that had begun to boil deep in his gut spilled into his voice. She winced, but nodded and pulled back the blanket.

Garrus stared through the shimmering sterile field, mouth and mandibles falling open. His chest was gone. Just gone. He let his head fall back onto the pillows. "Why am I awake?"

Anderson cleared his throat. "Nihlus's broken hip appears to have taken him out of the running about halfway through their tests. They didn't continue his enhancements, but with you … ." The man reached up, cracking his neck as he scrubbed the back of it with a rough hand. "Our best guess says they were trying to turn you into some sort of command and control. Your brain and nervous system took damage when they removed their enhancements." He shook his head. "I have no idea how you managed to pull yourself and Nihlus out of that hellhole, son. Hell of a thing."

Well, it's like this, Anderson. Shepard showed up—she does that sometimes—and yelled at me until I got up and followed her out.

Chakwas pulled the blanket back over him, covering the hateful racing of his heart. She leaned over him a little. "The affected areas of your brain are difficult to access and delicate, and I need you awake while I repair the injuries." She nodded to her side, drawing his attention to a monitor set up. "I'm not comfortable waiting until we arrive back at Archangel, so I'm going to have Mordin sit in and advise via comms."

"Right." Garrus closed his eyes, letting the rage flow free, burning the disbelief and horror to ash. Whoever had torn him and Nihlus apart and tortured them for nearly two weeks had to be connected to the Reapers. Learn the enemy's weaknesses and turn those weaknesses against them: one of the oldest rules in warfare. And in taking him apart to learn his vulnerabilities, they'd given him a trail to follow. Mistake number one.

Brutalizing his brother, invoking the bond that demanded justice and retribution. Mistake number two.

He took a long, deep breath, trying not to imagine the way his lungs looked as they expanded under the sheet. "Do what you need to, doctor, just get me up off this bed so that I can find whoever did this to us and end them."

He stood on the edge of a sun-baked cliff, Cipritine sprawling before him. The river sparkled under Trebia's brilliant rays as it wended through the city, passed beneath the ancient walls, and flowed on toward the sea. He folded his arms and straightened his back, leaning all his weight on the backs of his feet.

Although he heard nothing, he felt Shepard walk up behind him.

"It's quite the view, isn't it?" She stepped up next to his side and looked out, making no move toward him. "Of all the places you brought us, I think this is my favourite, Callor."

He nodded, but didn't speak. Unlike the rest of their time together, that time she'd come to talk, not to listen. Heart aching behind his keel, he knew. As much as his soul railed against it, as much as he wanted to turn to her, wrap his arms around her and never leave … the time had come.

"You're ready," she said, simply. Thick and nasal, her voice sounded as though she fought back tears, as unhappy about reality as he despite having pushed him toward it. A throaty sigh preceded a single, sharp nod. "Good. They need you." She laughed, but it came out bitter. "Me … well, I can wait. My needs aren't going anywhere anytime soon."

He turned to look down at her, his tiny, magical Kahri. "It's about the work." He pressed his talons over his heart. "This will always be yours."

A tight lipped smile greeted that, but she remained fixed on the view. "Kick their ass, Callor. Kick them so hard that they never forget." She glanced up at him. "I love you, but don't rush to join me." Turning, she lifted onto her toes, hands grasping his cowl to pull him down to her. "You never know what the future might bring."

They kissed, passion and sorrow fueling the frantic joining of mouths and tongues, of bodies pressed so tight that Garrus thought his chest would cave in under the pressure. He breathed her in, doing his best to memorize the scent and sound and feel of her completely enough to last the rest of his life.

"I love you, Kahri," he whispered as she pulled back, ripping loose everything soft and sentimental that remained within him. He nodded. Best she take it with her. His war had just changed to demand a much different sort of general. "I'll win this thing. Don't worry."

She smiled through the pale brume that glistened in her eyes. "The galaxy couldn't be in better hands." Backing away, she nodded. "I'll see you soon enough."

A-N: Yep, Kim is getting back into the swing of things. Thank goodness. I'm so excited to see where Sassy and her boys take us.

As always thanks to my gorgeous betas and to Lachdannen, thebluninja, 5 Coloured Walker, Lady Velvet C Peterson, dracohalo117, Luppo in the North, and Alpenwolf for your reviews. Please do feel free to check in, even if just say hi. I love hearing from people, and miss quite a few of you I haven't heard from in a while. Hope all is well. Have a good one until the next update and thanks again.