Haksaya kubenar - A term of endearment, literally translates as 'my strong, true heart'.
Cikabeknai - The reciprocal term of endearment for the above. Literally translates to 'brave love'.
26 Days ASR
General Garrus Vakarian.
Damn, Janey … just look at him. Isn't he magnificent?
Magnificent he was. Strong, in complete command, and although it didn't look as though it sat easily, that command suited him. What was it Anderson always told her? The best leaders were the ones who found it most painful?
The heartache and confusion in Garrus's eyes tore into her with unrelenting claws, but she forced herself to keep a distance that stripped her to the bone. He needed time. Even more than the things he said, his body language made that agonizingly clear.
He's mourned you for two years, Janey. That assassin tore his heart out. Give him time.
She nodded. She could do that. She could suffer a little while after everything Garrus had been through. Oh, but she wanted to slip her arms around him and feel his strength envelope her, his love wash over her with its gentle, patient passion … to wrap herself in the aura of safety that emanated from him like warmth and light streamed from the sun. As she looked around, seeing the way the people—his people—looked at him and reacted to him, she knew they all lived and thrived under that sun as well.
An explosion dragged her out of her thoughts kicking and screaming, and threw her toward the open balcony. Yes! She hooted as Kasumi's packages went off. The thief had made it through, and in glorious form. Then the wall of dust and smoke sent them all diving into cover, and she found herself face to face with Nihlus.
"It really is you, isn't it?" the Spectre whispered, pressing his helmet against her brow.
She didn't get a chance to do anything more than nod before three more explosions rocked the building and sent her reeling. Turning around to peer up into nothing but a wall of dust, she caught Garrus staring at her and tried a smile. A soft sigh squeezed through the bars when he deflected it and moved away.
Using the low, balcony wall, Shepard heaved herself to her feet and turned to look at the torin who had danced along the edge of her memory for a month, and through her dreams for years before that. Heart thumping hard and fast against the inside of her breast, she just drank in the rugged, beautiful lines of his face; the sweep of his neck; the long fringe that he constantly raked with his talons when he got upset or stressed. Memories swarmed her like moths around a light, their touch soft as they flitted past. All the love she'd felt for him poured back into her, filling her until it pounded in her temples and throat along with her pulse … until she felt as though it should blow her into tiny pieces. She pressed her hand against the chest of her armour, suddenly sure if she didn't hold it in, her heart would leap straight out.
Why didn't you let yourself feel all this before? You really can be a complete idiot, Janey Shepard.
And there he was, standing a metre away … close enough to touch, but yet an impossible distance stared at her from those eyes, the razor edge of his voice cutting to the bone with every word. His body language threw up walls and bulwarks, locking her on the other side of a hundred-foot-tall, electrified fence.
"That's some infiltration team you've got there, General," she said, fighting to keep her tone light … not reactive. She just needed to give him time and space to see the truth once his fear and shock began to fade.
Shepard took a step toward Garrus, stopping when he flinched away from her. Her hand lifted a little, aching to skate along his mandible, to press against his cheek and feel his heat. It dropped back to her rifle. Trying to ignore the fist that hammered her in the gut, she pushed forward, focusing on Kasumi and her bombs. "She waited until they were packed together. If we have a hundred Eclipse and Blue Suns to take out I'll be surprised."
She opened her mouth to continue, but then sucked in a quick breath and held it as the telltale whine of engines and thrusters cut through the background roar of debris, fire, and screaming wounded. "Gunships. They must have repaired the ones Miss Goto didn't destroy." Yanking her kerchief up over her nose and mouth, she stared at Garrus for a fraction of a second. Where was his helmet? She caught a glimpse of blue on the couch and ran to grab it for him.
"Thermal scopes!" Garrus shouted, spurring his troops into action. "Everyone behind cover, use your scopes. Everyone else, wait for them to—"
A detonation launched Shepard forward into the couch, her ribs letting out a muffled yowl of pain as she slammed into the frame. Gasping, blind, and deaf, she flailed through a heavy fog of confusion. Why has the entire world dissolved into madness around her?
"Garrus!" Nihlus's cry fear and horror.
A blur of blue flew past her, landing hard and sliding, leaving a metre long streak of indigo across the floor before it stopped. She stared, fractions of a second seeming to stretch into days as she struggled to process what she saw. The smoke and dust cleared, revealing torn and smoking armour and blood.
Oh sweet baby Jesus … so much blood.
"Garrus." Horror ripped her off her knees and threw her across the metres to his side. Hitting the floor on her knees, she slid the last metres, grabbing his arm even before she stopped. Shaking hands fumbled along his armour, finally finding and hitting his medigel. No. No. No no no no. Not like that. The universe did not get to snatch him from her like that. She hit the medigel again then dove into his belt pouch, rummaging for anything she could use, tossing everything she couldn't.
Topical medigel packs! A strangled cry of victory greeted the find, and she tore three of them open at once, dousing the areas that seemed to be bleeding the most. Helpless terror wrapped hands around her throat. Everywhere seemed to be bleeding the most.
"Medics!" she screamed, her voice cracking as the hands tightened their grip. "Where are the medics?"
"Blue Suns are repelling in on the ground and first floors." Nihlus's voice called, buffeting the edges of her perception. "Victus, Thompson, Geranc, Powell, and Treela cover the main floor from the interior balcony."
Barely aware of the bodies running around her, Shepard ripped open her belt pouch, pulling out her topical medigel, bandages, and extra kerchiefs. The dry ice of panic built up behind the stranglehold on her throat and crawled just under her skull like ants. "Come on! Medic!" she screamed again, refusing to look at the remains of Garrus's face other than to spread medigel over the worst spots.
"Heavies!" Nihlus bellowed. "Where are the damned heavies for those gunships?"
"None of the rocket launchers have thermal scopes, sir," a young woman answered.
"For fuck's sake, use your damned ears," Shepard shouted over the din. She caressed Garrus's intact mandible as if to apologize for her outburst. "You're okay. Hang in there, big guy," Shepard whispered, leaning over him as she packed bandages over top of the medigel, applying pressure the best she could. "Just hang in there. I've got you."
"Shepard! The fight is still going on," Miranda shouted over rest of the din.
Shepard's hands just kept working, packing anything she could find against the wounds, trying to stop the bleeding. "If he dies, there is no damn fight. Not for me." She glanced up. "I need more medigel here!" A handful of ampules hit the floor next to her leg. Snatching them up, she tore them open.
The operative grabbed her shoulder, reefing her back away from Garrus. "Priorities, Shepard. And you wonder why I kept you away from those memories."
The captain whirled on the operative. Grabbing Miranda by the collar, Shepard shook her like a feral dog throttling its prey. "He dies, that's it. Do you understand me? You can take your fucking fight and stuff it up … ." Miranda's omnitool flared next to Shepard's head, the orange light burning into the captain's eyes. Flinging herself back, she spun and bent to kiss Garrus's temple. "Hang in there, Callor. We'll get you looked after in just a minute."
Standing, she strode across the room to snatch a rocket launcher away from a young woman whose hands shook too hard to hang onto the thermal scope let alone attach it. "Step back a bit, sweetie. We don't need anyone else getting their head shot off today." Shepard settled the thing on her shoulder and closed her eyes, listening for the distinctive whine of the gunships. "How many rockets left in here?" she demanded without opening her eyes.
"Ten, ma'am," the girl squeaked.
"Say it like you mean it soldier, and get the hell over to that balcony. Keep them from getting up the stairs." Taking slow, deep breaths, she counted slowly as she listened. In … two … three … four … five.
"Ten, ma'am," the girl hollered, "and yes ma'am, Captain Shepard, ma'am."
"Better, but stop with the ma'am." A grim smile slammed her lips down tight as she homed in on the first gunship. "Shoot my torin? You want to blow people up with rockets, you bring that shit to me." She opened her eyes when the vehicle's engines lowered in pitch, preparing to hover and drop more troops. Her finger twitched on the trigger as the vehicle appeared, faint through the billowing clouds of dust. The first rocket impacted just below the nose. The second took off a thruster and the A-61 spiraled down into the guts of the superstructure, taking all four troops along with it.
The second ship dropped down fast behind her. She spun, a fierce, angry smile contorting her face. The gunship fired first, but she dove behind a couch, praying some steel, leather and foam could deflect a rocket. The couch erupted into the air, bursting into flame as it flipped over her head. She heard it tumble away, but she'd already sent three rockets straight for the wing-mounted rocket launchers. The pilot sneered at her, taking aim.
She pushed herself up off her knees, sending two more after the first just in case, but before they cleared the window, the gunship had been reduced to chunks of burning debris. She listened, but didn't hear a third. Perhaps they hadn't been able to get the last one flying. After waiting another second, Shepard spun toward Miranda.
Storming over to the operative, Shepard shoved the rocket launcher into Miranda's chest with enough force to throw the woman back, sitting her down hard on a planter. Shepard snarled in the woman's face. "Over enough for you now?"
Turning back toward Garrus, the captain cast a glance toward Nihlus. "All clear out there, old man?" When the helmeted head nodded, she returned it and ran the last few steps to Garrus's side.
Two familiar forms hunched over Garrus when Shepard hit the floor across from them. Relief flickered through her, bright and cool, the sun shining through leaves, and a smile broke across her face, so wide it hurt like hell. "Doc. Mordin. Sweet Jesus, I've never been happier to see two people in my life," she said, her words breathy. "How is he?"
Chakwas stared at Shepard, mouth hanging open for less than a heartbeat before continuing on, unrattled. "It's difficult to say right now, but we need to get him stabilized. We'll take him up to the twenty-fourth floor." She waved forward two orderlies and a gurney.
Shepard scrambled back out of the way, then helped lift him onto the zero-g stretcher. Clutching Garrus's talons in a desperate, terrified grip, she ran beside the stretcher all the way into the elevator.
"Bring him back to me, Doc," she whispered, her voice burrowing down into that place inside her that still believed wishes spoken out loud didn't come true. She backed toward the door, her fingers refusing to let go of Garrus's talons. What if it was the last time she ever held them? Finally, his glove slipped from between her fingertips, his hand hitting the surface with a faint thump.
"We'll do our best … " The doctor hesitated for a second, her voice coming out hard and confused when she continued. "... Shepard." As she spoke the doctor's expression remained so grave that Shepard threw herself back through the elevator doors and brushed the uninjured side of Garrus's mouth with the gentlest of kisses.
"I love you," she whispered against his mouth, the first sour-acid tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Don't leave me."
"Shepard, must hurry," Mordin called. His voice, higher pitched and more rushed than usual, betrayed just how close death hovered over that stretcher. His hand held the door open, waiting for her.
She nodded, but had to drag herself away, her stare clinging to Garrus's face, his features blurry through the tears. "Please … ." The door closed, leaving her staring at blank metal, her heart trapped on the other side. She swallowed the cancerous tumour that spread tendrils of panic through her throat and down into her gut.
Sweet baby Jesus, if you hear any prayer, hear this one … please. Just … please.
The tumour spread into her sinuses, the pressure building until it burned in her nose and leaked salty tears over her cheeks. Not him. Not just … not before he even knew she'd come back to him.
"Shepard, there is still an entire base to secure," Miranda called, striding up to her from the lounge. "Now that General Vakarian is receiving treatment, we need to send out—"
Whipping around, Shepard stormed over, shoving her face so close to Miranda's that her nose bounced off the operative's cheek. When Miranda pulled back, Shepard just pressed in harder, trapping the woman in the corner by the door. "Is he one of the reasons you said I'd be grateful that you brought me back?" she asked, her voice a feral roar originating low in her chest. She pinned Miranda with a forearm at the operative's throat while the other hand stabbed a finger toward where Nihlus stood, still keeping watch on the bridge. "Is he as well?"
Miranda drew herself up as if she wasn't a half centimetre away from being turned into human paste. "Yes. You see, Shepard? I told you that you would thank—"
Shepard backed off two steps, then drew her arm back and let loose with all of her freakish strength, slamming her fist into Miranda's face. She felt the woman's jaw crack, but just clenched her teeth and leaned back in. "How dare you keep them from me?" she demanded, her voice lowering even further until it resonated from her gut.
Miranda wobbled for a second, then crumpled, leaning against the wall, her legs folded under her. After thirty seconds or so, Shepard reached down, slipping a hand under her arm and helped her back onto her feet. Miranda pressed a hand to her jaw, that and her slurred speech her only concession to the injury.
"Same reason couldn't contact Anderson. Memory overload—"
"Bullshit!" Shepard leaned in, forcing her hand down to her side. They might need Miranda to be able to fight, and she wouldn't be fit for duty if Shepard smashed her jaw completely. "You kept those memories from me because you knew that if I remembered him … if I remembered them, there was no way in hell you could have maintained any sort of control over me." She laughed, cold and hard as ice and backed up. "And you were right. I'd have sneaked off that station of horrors in a garbage bin if it meant getting back to Garrus."
Hearing footsteps behind her, she reached for her Mattock, and twisted, shooting a Blue Sun who managed to reach the top of the stairs. Once the merc fell, Shepard turned back at Miranda. "You lie to me again, Lawson … . You hold anything back from me again, and I will leave." She held up her arms in a mocking shrug. "Don't know if you noticed, but my boyfriend has an army and a navy all his own."
Walking away, she heard Miranda tapping away at her omnitool and called back, "Day 26, Jane Shepard hit and punched and hurt my face on Day 26." Let her. Fuck it. Let her report back whatever the fuck she wanted. Shepard had a fight to finish. "Go get your jaw looked at. Twenty-fourth floor."
Just ahead of her, Nihlus hopped down from his blind, a hand lifting to remove his helmet once he hit the floor. "General Victus, keep an eye on the bridge for a second, please?" he called, glancing over his shoulder at another turian. He set the helmet down on the table, stared at Shepard for a moment, and then his mandibles spread, a wide smile that trembled a little. "Haksaya kubenar."
Shepard took a long breath, seeing nothing in those bright green eyes but acceptance and love. She shook her head as Tashac began to hum … a lilting celebration of reconnection.
Down girl.
"Cikabeknai," she replied, a grin spreading as the endearment just rolled off her tongue. She sighed. Nihlus looked as though he'd been threaded through the mangler a few times, but good … functional if fragile … a mug dropped on the floor but glued back together.
Sort of like someone else, huh?
Yeah, she knew all about that particular brand of broken. Damn, but she'd missed him. "Hey there, old man," she said, her lips trembling. Pressing them tight, she strode toward him with purpose, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Nihlus hugged her against him, his grip strong and comforting. He pressed his mouth to the top of her head. "Hey there, yourself." A long sigh whistled from his nose as he squeezed her tight. "You broke a lot of hearts, you know."
She clung to him, trying to ignore the gunfire in the background. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'll try not to do it again." Pulling away a little, she pressed a kiss against his mandible. "It's good to see you." Grinning, she popped a shrug. "Even better to remember you." A rough sigh greeted the sound of increased fighting, and she pressed a hand to the side of his face. "Guess we should get to work." She glanced around, letting her hand drop as she took a deep breath, settling back into Captain Shepard.
Nihlus nodded, his mandibles flicking low and tight. "The worst fighting is still down in the lowest sublevel. We've got Blood Pack flamers down there wreaking havoc." He reached back for his helmet and tucked it under his arm. When he looked down at her, his eyes shone with warmth. "You taking over, Spectre?"
She held out her hands and shook her head, incredulous. "This is your circus, but with your permission, I'll take a team downstairs to clear them out, work our way around and up through the camps." She stepped away and pulled her Mattock off her back. When he nodded, she continued, "Gather up twenty-five or so of your best and freshest, make sure they have backpacks full of heatsinks, food, water … whatever they need. We'll be gone a while."
Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and nodded. She could clear away the rest of the trash, help the fighters below finish off the Blood Pack and then clean out the camps, make sure nothing remained but prisoners and ashes. At least that way, she'd be able to forget about her heart, clinging to life twenty-three floors above her head.
She sent Nihlus her radio frequency and then Vincent's just in case. Grinning as she imagined her XO's pique at Shepard going out without her, she said, "When Miranda comes down, put her to work. Don't let her give you her haughtier than thou crap." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'll see—"
Nihlus's talon sliced the air, cutting her off as the other lifted to his radio. After a second, he chuffed a little and nodded to no one. "I'll let her know. Nihlus out." Both hands dropped, his mandibles as well. "Garrus is refusing to go into surgery until he talks to you." A strong, heavy hand pressed down on her shoulder. "He's in bad shape, so you should head up now."
Shepard spun and bolted for the elevator. "I'll meet the team downstairs. Let my people know to pack me a kit." When she pressed the door control, she turned back. "Let Liara know her attendance is optional." She smiled when he nodded, gratitude warming her from her toes up. "Thank you."
He nodded and smiled, but again, she saw his mandibles tremble. As soon as the fighting ended, she just needed to sit down with him, talk … connect. Hopefully start helping him heal the hole she felt gaping at his center. Their eyes locked for another moment, but then his pain disappeared beneath his helmet, sealed in.
The door opened, Shepard stepping aside to let the full carriage of people out before she leaped in and hit the control for the twenty-fourth floor. Hope sparked bright and clear at her heart. Garrus demanding to see her … that had to be a good thing. It just did. Surely, he'd come to see that it was her, not something programmed to believe it was. He just had to. How … could she even make it through without him at her side? What would be the point in even trying?
Miranda might have a point about your priorities.
Shepard shrugged off the faint sliver of guilt. Things would work out, but first, he needed to come through his surgery. She nodded stoutly, and stood at parade rest, nose practically pressed into the doors, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. Twenty-three floors later, the elevator opened, releasing her into complete chaos. She weaved her way through wounded lying on beds and gurneys, sitting on chairs ... even on the floor ... wherever they managed to squeeze into an open spot. Her heart ached as she pushed on, smiling to those who called out, but unable to stop … to provide any sort of comfort. Once the fighting ended, she promised herself. Once the base was safe, she'd do her best to help.
At the end of the hall, a wide door opened, the familiar professional, compassionate face of Karin Chakwas appearing above the crowd. The doc looked around for a few seconds and then, spotting Shepard, raised a beckoning hand. "This way."
The fact that the doc didn't even call her by name … the sheer strength of the doubt and disbelief, the hard edge to the doctor's tone, slammed into Shepard like a tidal wave, leaving her reeling. Beneath the wave, an undertow of isolation and loneliness grabbed hold of her, tumbling her along the bottom until drowning seemed imminent. Was she going to end up alone, cut off from everyone but Nihlus?
Then Chakwas stood before her, blue eyes cold and distant. She gave Shepard a curt nod, then hit the door control, stepping aside to allow Shepard to go ahead. "The general needs to go into surgery immediately, but he's demanding to see you before he'll let us do anything," the doctor said. "Be quick."
Once they entered the softly lit, almost silent space, the doctor stepped up to walk at Shepard's side. "What are you?" she asked. "A clone?"
Shepard slumped, the question stabbing a knife under her ribs.
Better get used to that question, Janey. It's going to get asked a lot.
"They say they salvaged my body and spent two years rebuilding me." She reached up and tapped the back of her head. "I have a shiny, new cybernetic brain stem and nanites running rampant through my body cloning and replacing cells. At least, they've stopped implanting me with new tech every couple of days." A long, low sigh spooled out, feeling like the endless handkerchief from a magician's act. "I'm pretty sure I'm me."
Chakwas stopped at a door on the left wall and held out a hand. "Be quick, and don't upset him." When Shepard looked into that familiar, welcome face, she saw no welcome there for her. She nodded and hurried past, barely holding in an apology, even though she had no idea why she needed to apologize.
Antiseptic burrowed into her sinuses, randomly jabbing the sensitive lining with pins, and her footsteps rang through the silence as she crossed the tile floor to stop next to his shoulder. She stared down at him, the air freezing solid in her lungs, her ribs threatening to explode with the pain of it. The corners of her eyes burned as she fought to hold back her tears, refusing to allow them to escape. He didn't need to see her blubbering over him as if he'd already died. Leaning down a little, she brushed the backs of her fingers over the exposed ball of his shoulder. How had she forgotten him? How could she have ever forgotten him? Then to lose him just as … . A million lost, stiletto-sharp moments sliced through her, leaving behind shallow, thin cuts that stung like brands as they leaked laughter and tears, kisses and angry words.
Stop it. Damn it, Janey, you never truly forgot him. And if you don't want to lose him, he needs surgery sooner rather than later.
Right. Shepard took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. "Garrus?"
His good eye opened, the other hidden under a blood-stained towel. For a long moment, he stared up at her without recognition, but then the blurriness disappeared, replaced by all the anger, hurt, and betrayal she'd seen downstairs. "You're still here," he said, his voice low and rough, slurred as he spoke without moving his jaw.
"Yeah, of course. I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, and sniffed, wiping away a tear before it dripped from the end of her nose. Damning her traitorous eyes, she let all her joy and love radiate through her smile. She leaned down to brush a feather-light kiss to the end of his nose then shrugged a little as his eyes fixed on her. "Well … " She looked down to follow the trail of her fingertips as they caressed the curve of his uninjured shoulder. "... I had to return a few things you gave me." She leaned down, her breath warm and soft against his cheek. "You're going to need them."
His hand lifted, batting ineffectually at the blanket. "What things?" His eye closed, his chest deflating with his breath.
Shepard slipped her hands under the blanket, grasping his talons between them. His grip was weak but calloused and warm. She smiled, just a thin press of her lips. "It's okay, Garrus. I came back. I'm really here." Nodding, she ordered him to lie back on pillows he hadn't left. "Get some sleep. I'm going to go help things get settled downstairs, and when Dr. Chakwas and Mordin are done putting you back together, I'll be here. I imagine that the docs are going to want to run about a million tests on me." She pressed her lips to the back of his hand.
"Shepard, must begin," Mordin called in a hoarse whisper from the door. He stepped around Shepard to inject meds into Garrus's IV. "Risking the general to wait."
Shepard started to pull away, but Garrus tightened his grip on her hand, holding her close.
"What is it?" she asked, bending down to hear him.
"What are you?" Garrus whispered into her ear.
Shepard jerked away from him, her brow furrowed, her eyes burning so fiercely that when the tears fell, she expected them to come out blood. A hiccough of pain erupted as she breathed out, but she clamped her jaw closed on it. Her chest refused to cooperate, however, spasming with stillborn sobs.
He blinked slowly, staring into her eyes. "I held my Kahri as she died. I sat beside her body for three days before we buried her." His eyes closed, and his voice faded as the drugs sucked him down into oblivion. His last words drifted out on a shallow breath, "Don't come back."
A ragged, open-mouthed gasp escaped before Shepard bit down on her lip and cut it off. Steeling her jaw and locking everything down tight, she managed to inhale and exhale without screaming as she placed his hand back under the covers. Joints rigid, she spun toward the door just to find Chakwas watching her. Suspicion screamed at her from the tight lines around the doctor's eyes and tightly pressed lips. Letting out a soft, resigned sigh, Shepard nodded. It didn't matter; their saving Garrus did. "Take care of him, Doc," she whispered between clenched teeth.
Just as Shepard stepped past the doctor, Chakwas reached up and gripped her shoulder. After staring into the captain's eyes for a moment, the doctor lifted gentle fingers to brush the tears from Shepard's cheek. "When you're done cleaning up the mess downstairs, come back. We'll run tests, check the age of your DNA and retinal tissue … ." A firm nod met the warm bud of hope that blossomed in Shepard's chest, thawing everything enough for her to breathe without breaking down. Chakwas nodded toward the door out of the ward. "If you are Jane Shepard, we'll find a way to prove it. Go on, get to work."
Shepard pressed out a flat grimace that tried for a smile. Giving the doctor a quick, grateful nod, she headed for the door, her stride resolute. With Chakwas and Mordin on her side … there was no way everyone could doubt her. No way she could doubt herself. They'd find irrefutable proof that she was still Jane Gwendolyn Shepard.
Pushing back through the throng blocking the path to the elevator, Shepard walled up all the emotional sludge sloshing around in her brain. For the next day or so, she could allow herself one focus: clearing out the bad guys and bringing her people home. She pressed the control for the lowest sublevel, a slight smile greeting the fact it was called the garden. What hadn't he done with those few deserted buildings and some cash? She had a feeling that his genius would continue to amaze her for weeks, if it ever stopped.
The reek of smoke and charred … everything … invaded the elevator five floors before her destination. She untied her handkerchief and dragged out her water bottle. After drinking her fill, she soaked down the cloth and tied it back over her nose and mouth.
What awaited her on the other side of the doors when the elevator arrived was anything but paradise. Smoke and dust roiled in the air, charred and broken bodies lay thrown in a long pile along the walls. Hundreds of them. The garden had been trampled into a swamp of mud and gore. And everywhere, screaming and gunfire, shouting and the endless roar of flame throwers.
She leaned her head all the way over to the right and cracked her neck then rolled her shoulders and shrugged her Mattock into her hands. Time to clear out the rest of the mercs and let all these good, exhausted people rest. She strode toward the far end of the gigantic space. It had to be ten acres all told. The fighting centered at the far end where three tunnels branched out into the rest of the station.
Halfway across the space, she began to make out forms in the smoke, wounded sitting off against a wall, a couple of people working over them … soldiers popping up over cover to fire down the tunnels and then back down. Some just sat with their back against the cover, legs splayed out in front of them, too tired to move. A couple of young people crawled along the floor, handing out water and sandwiches.
We've got to save these people, Janey. Damn, aren't they something?
A figure approached her. "Are you the one Nihlus said was coming down to help us clear the tunnels?" The command and strength in the voice almost completely disguised the soft-edged slur on all the words and the slow, careful diction needed to be understood. "Your squad just showed up." He sighed. "We're damned glad of the help."
Shepard stopped, tears springing back into her eyes. "Fuck," she muttered to herself. "Snap out of it! I can't spend the entire fucking day crying." Impatient fingers swiped at her eyes as a soldier strode out of the carnage. Tall, broad as a barn door, and wrapped in some sort of hydraulic armour, a man … blessed Enkindlers … a man walked toward her, helmet visor open, gait loose and confident.
She stopped and leaned back on a cocked hip, her rifle cradled in her crossed arms. "Yeah? So what if I am, kid?"
The man stopped, his entire body expanding as though every bit of him sucked in a huge breath. After three more halting steps, he stopped and just looked at her, the breath whooshing out. His mouth worked for a second, before he said, "You look beautiful today, Shepard," his voice tail-diving into an almost incoherent slur. A choking sort of sob chased the words out.
"You look pretty beautiful too, kid." Shepard just stared for another moment, dragging out the exquisite joy of seeing how spectacular he'd become and the agony of having missed it all. She shook her head and strode forward, her arms spreading wide. "Oh my god, look at you! Holy shit, Martin. You went and became all amazing on me."
"And you died on me." The last came out tangled in harsh sobs and then his arms wrapped around her, gentle despite the massive armour. Kisses covered the side of her head. "How? What the hell, Shepard? How … ? You died." Strong arms lifted her off the ground, and then he tore his helmet off, his tears cool and wet against her ear.
After a long minute, when he set her down and held her at arm's length, Shepard shook her head. "I can't say quite how, other than to blame some combination of mad science and miracle." She took his face between her hands. "I'm damned glad to see you, and I can't wait to just sit down and fill in all the blanks, but how about we kick these bastards in the ass first?"
Grinning, he pressed his face into her touch for a moment before turning to plant a soft kiss into the palm of her hand. "Sounds good." He bent to retrieve his helmet, hesitating for a moment before he straightened and looked into her eyes. "I'm not dead, right?"
A soft smile answered his question as she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his. "We're both very much alive, so come on, let's get this done."
Word spread that the archangel herself had joined the fight, and although the realization of where Garrus had come up with the name made her uncomfortable, Shepard couldn't deny the rallying effect her presence created amongst the beleaguered fighters. Within an hour, they'd cleared the warehouse and right hand tunnel, sealing it up at the far end. After three, only one route out into the rest of Omega remained open.
Shepard sat on a low crate, a cold bottle of water held between her soot-covered hands, and looked over the exhausted troops. A glance over at Vincent, and her people from the brave ship, Nameless, revealed exhaustion, but they looked daisy fresh compared to the Archangel personnel. She finished the bottle, ate the last bite of a really fine tuna salad sandwich, and then took a deep breath. "So, who's coming with me to clear out the stragglers?"
A bright, clear laugh greeted the massive show of hands. "Anyone who has family in the base … you need to stay, take care of your loved ones." That dropped about half the hands. "Anyone who has any medical training, shower and head up to the twenty-fourth floor, they could sure use you." Another dozen dropped their hands. "Okay, the rest of you, if you're uninjured and think you have another day of walking and fighting left in you, pack enough food, water, and heat sinks. We'll meet here in—"
"Does someone want to tell me why I just had to hang some pyjak up by his ankles for lying to me?" a deep krogan roar bellowed from the end of the cleared tunnel. A minute later a wall of red armour charged into the room, shoulders forward, head set down into the yoke. "Who do I need to shoot for shitting on Shepard's memory?" Carmine eyes flashed with rage as they seared the crowd under a laser-intense glare.
Shepard sighed and pushed herself up off her crate. "I was comfortable there, Wrex," she grumbled. She stalked over to meet him halfway, her shoulders hunched, hands on her hips, stare focused on the floor. When the wall of armour filled her vision, she looked up … just lifting her eyes. "Please, don't make me headbutt you. I've still got a long day ahead of me."
Wrex narrowed his eyes and leaned in close, his head cocked.
"What? You going blind in your advanced age?" Grinning, she gave him a shove. He looked good, unchanged other than the proud set to his shoulders and jaw, her hopes for him brought to fruition. "Yep, still can't even rock you."
The behemoth leaned back and hung up his shotgun. "You looked like something a varren crapped out, Shepard." His wrecking ball of a fist slammed her shoulder hard enough to punch straight out the other side, sending her stumbling into Martin, who jumped in to catch her.
"Yep," she grunted, rubbing her shoulder, "that still hurts like hell." Rolling her shoulder a little to ease the ache, she cocked an eyebrow and gave him her best, shit-eating grin. She couldn't have asked for anyone better at her back. "Going to come hunting with me or have you gotten too old and lazy?"
"Don't push your luck, Shepard," he muttered, but without any heat. "The void might not spit you back out a second time."
A-N: Still really trying to get back to Monday/Thursday ... just failing miserably. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. Writing is a very solitary thing, and hearing from people ... it's a wonderful thing.