Chapter Five: And She Laughed

He didn't hear what they were saying. He couldn't. His mind had been unable to process any new information since hearing the news. It was a miracle that he had somehow registered when they'd approached him and invited him to the lounge—yet he couldn't recall when he'd sat down, or been given the glass in his hand. Was this even the first one? The techno music surrounding him seemed louder than usual causing a dull ache in his head, coupled with the slightest buzz tingling behind his eyes, he guessed he'd already downed more than one. He emptied the glass in one gulp and the moment it was set back on the table, a waitress had appeared replacing it with a full cup.

Glancing up, Garrus recognized the short-haired human woman. She gave him a soft, sympathetic nod, her eyes shining with pity for him. He hated that look; he didn't want anyone to look at him that way. No one here knew what he was really feeling (and he wasn't about to let anyone in) so what was the reason in giving him such an expression? For solidarity? There wasn't any point. Her name came to him then—Jenna—and it immediately brought to the forefront of his mind with it, a pair of lively, grey eyes. Not very lively anymore though, he cursed himself for thinking it and unable to stomach being reminded of her through the woman's face, he looked away. Flux had remained relatively undamaged in the attack (a broken window at most) and with Chora's Den now permanently closed, it had become even more popular as it was the only decent place to get a drink on this side of the Wards. If only they'd do something about the music.

"Vakarian," a voice rousted him and by the tone of it, he could tell it was not the first time they had called him. Lamont and Ridgefield were on either side of him at the table, both seemingly waiting for a response.

"I didn't hear you," he clarified, clearing his throat. It was beginning to feel thick. Ridgefield leaned over to Lamont and whispered something, Garrus didn't care to try to catch it. Whatever it was, it caused the other officer to nod almost in agreement.

"You seem spent, it's been a long day. Maybe you should call it a night?"

"Yeah," he muttered while staring at the full glass he now held, "maybe I'll do that." He kicked it back and was starting to transfer credits on his Omni-tool to cover his tab when they assured him, they would take care of it. With a despondent partial wave of his hand, he made his way to the exit. As soon as the door slid closed behind him, he felt he could breathe again due to the quiet surroundings. Down the stairs he stopped at the rapid transport and ordered a cab. Within minutes he was safely seated within the backseat of a skycar, he welcomed the security and comfort the close-quarters and darkness provided. His head fell back against the seat and the only sound he heard was the quiet hum of the automobile's engine and the intake and exhale of breath. His head lolled towards the window where he witnessed the thousands of other skycars darting back and forth, his vision blurring as he remained unfocused on any particular image. What's the matter with me? He couldn't help but wonder it, ever since hearing the news it was like he'd been constantly sleep-walking and as far as he knew, he had never once slept-walked in his life. Did turians even sleep-walk? Was it human specific?

He felt hollow and empty inside, as if the only real light in the galaxy had been diminished. In comparison to that light, every other glow seemed harsh and artificial. He hoped that it was just because he was still reeling from the news, it had only been two days after all. You'll feel better soon. It can't feel like this forever…could it? He was concerned for the answer. He didn't like this. There wasn't any pain, he would have preferred a pain, it was just a numbness that had overtaken all of him, void of feeling. Perhaps dunking his head in a tank of cold water would incite something. Stepping out of the cab once it had landed outside his apartment complex he went inside, the elevator meticulously slow as it carried him to his floor. He didn't know what time it was, he guessed late, all he knew was that he was tired—exhausted really. Sleep had alluded him recently. I wonder why. Garrus could hear the sarcasm in his own head's voice.

Inside his apartment he stopped and stared at the space around him. It was small, it wasn't like he had needed much being a bachelor, C-Sec officer. He only really used it for sleeping; there were three rooms in total—his bed in the main area, connected to a small kitchenette and bathroom. He went straight for the kitchen, opening the few cupboards in search of a particular item. He found it under the sink, a bottle of turian whiskey. It wasn't the best but it would have to do. Popping the cap, he lifted it to his mouth and the words immediately rang out through his head, 'this is pathetic. What could a woman do to put you in this state?' Garrus chuckled to himself re-fastening the lid of the bottle and replacing it back under the sink. He'd been such a hypocrite when he'd said that, he hadn't had the slightest idea then.

Sighing, Garrus moved to his bed and collapsed on top of it. He wanted to sleep but he wouldn't, instead he gave back into that pool of memories at the dark verges of his mind. He planned to drown in it.

x

He was heading up the slope towards the Embassies, having realized that he still needed to call for a cab to take him to his apartment. He could have used the transport at the Academy but he hadn't wanted to stay there a second longer, not with all those who had been privy to the spectacle still hanging around. They had gotten their entertainment, witnessing the accosting at his expense, as well as the gossip that was sure to circulate with velocity. He wasn't about to grant them any more time to gawk and whisper in his presence while waiting for a cab. Strolling past the offices, he took a moment to view the various people seated at the benches. There were always many people clustered there, waiting for either scheduled appointments or the off chance they could catch an exiting Ambassador.

His stride halted upon recognizing the black fringe, bun and all atop her head. She was without the two other Alliance soldiers, standing before a well-dressed human male. The man had his head bowed as she spoke soft words to him, and Garrus felt his own mandibles twitch in surprise as the man raised his hands to his face, his body wracked with sobs as he began to cry. All those seated nearby had their attention taken by the public display but the man didn't care. She placed a hand on the man's shoulder in what Garrus assumed to be a reassuring manner. When he lifted his head he was smiling, despite the tears on his face. He took her hand in both of his, shaking it firmly before departing. The turian kept his sight focused on the Commander who took a deep breath, released it and called up her omni-tool. She made a note of something before letting her arm fall back to her side, during which her eyeline met his.

Garrus saw the way the hair located above her eyes—eyebrows he believed them to be called—shifted upward in recognition. She crossed the area coming to stand before him but before she could speak, he found his question blurting from his mouth. "Did you just make that human cry?" He heard the astonishment radiate through his subvocals and he'd wished he'd said the words more regularly. The hair above her eyes furrowed, as if she didn't quite understand what he was referring to.

"oh!" A slight chuckle escaped her, and she glanced back towards the Embassies. "You saw that huh?" He nodded and she rubbed at the back of her neck sheepishly, "yeah, I guess I kind of did." Garrus waited for her to continue. "His wife was stationed on Eden Prime, she died during the attack. Her body wasn't being released and he asked if I could see to it that it was."

"And did you?" He asked, his curiosity piqued. She nodded and they both slowly began walking. "Were you acquainted with him?"

"Not before today, no."

"what about his wife?" She shook her head and this caused him to stop, enticing her to do the same. "You'd never met either of them, and yet you just did what he asked?"

"Yes," she said plainly, staring up at him with a doubtful expression. "what, are you expecting there to be an ulterior motive?"

"Possibly," he replied gradually. She made a scoffing sound, folding her arms behind her back and knitting her hands together as she started walking again. He was momentarily distracted by the image of the ten fingers so evenly fastened together, like pieces to a puzzle. Why do humans need so many fingers?

"That's a pretty pessimistic view. Are all turians this cynical?"

"Perhaps not all," he trailed behind her, "although I may have been born with an over-abundance." She threw a smirk at him from over her shoulder only to stop short and return to face him.

"A man asked me for help and I gave it to him. Would you not do the same?" There was a significance to her tone, her eyes sharp and distinct with the way they were baring into him. Such a vibrancy amidst the grey, along with a fervidity that was cool and un-tempered. Once again, he was reminded of how she appeared to be a living contradiction. She kept his gaze, unmoving and unfazed by the world around them while patiently waiting for his answer. He understood what she was doing, his response would create her own basis for understanding him—his answer would reveal a truth about him. So why not answer with the truth?

"I would," he spoke earnestly and despite a lack of words or theatrical declaration on integrity and the fundamental aspect of altruism, she seemed pleased as her expression turned thoughtful.

"I'm off to see an asari Consort here on the Presidium."

"Sha'ira?" He clarified even though he knew full well there was no other asari Consort. She nodded.

"Do you know her?"

"Of her, yes." He paused feeling the plates on his forehead knit tighter in disbelief. "You're going to see her?"

"An elcor diplomat says she has been sharing his secrets, I told him I'd look into it." Helping more people, huh?

"Keep this up and C-Sec will be offering you a job."

"I think I'll leave that to you." She stopped once more as they reached the bridge that would lead to the Financial District—and from their in the direction of the Consort. He had passed the rapid transport, caught up in the conversation with her. "Speaking of which," she added decisively, peering over her shoulder at him. "Want to tag along?"

"Might as well, just killing time anyway," he stated as casually as he could muster all the while very aware of the slight increase in heartrate that overcame him. Why was he excited about this? She smiled, a kind, friendly grin as he fell into step at her rear. You're just interested in the way she does things, she's an odd human after all. There's no reason to be nervous. Ah, so that's what it was. What he had mistaken to be excitement was actually nerves. Only, why in the world was he nervous? They moved at a rather brisk pace, heading past the Emporium and the Krogan Statue, before arriving at the Consort's Chambers.

Garrus had actually never been inside, he'd never had an interest. Within was a rather large lounge, seated were humans, turians, salarians, even volus. Each being individually looked after by mostly asari, although Garrus noted one female human, all dressed in the Consort's pink robes. The Acolytes, he knew them to be referred to. There was an officer at C-Sec who spent half his yearly salary each year on an appointment with the Consort but each year he was only ever seen by one of her Acolytes. Garrus couldn't understand why he spent so much money on something which was obviously never going to happen. An asari stood in front of a short podium, greeting the Commander and him as they came in.

He had to admit, the asari were an attractive species—being all female. He'd once heard that the reason the asari were so popular with all the races (other than some subconscious biological factor) was because there was an aspect to them that was appealing to each race; humans undoubtedly liked the fact that their bodies were so physically similar, he knew salarians specifically liked their blue skin (as they based attractiveness off of skin color), while for the turians it had to be the asari's scalp-crests that slightly resembled fringes. Garrus hadn't the slightest clue what aspect of them appealed to krogan, volus, or even hanar for that matter! Despite these features, and the way that any asari he had ever met and spoken to seemed to conduct their-self in a rather sensual, and enticing manner, he'd never been interested. His own personal theory stemmed from the fact that all asari were way too confident about sex, it was extremely intimidating for someone like him who never even knew what to say to a turian woman! His 'romantic' escapades had mainly been as humans so affectionately called them 'one-night stands' or the more commonly used turian excuse of 'blowing off steam' which usually involved Garrus making an utter fool of himself in his awkward and shame-inducing attempts to be "sexy". It had been made clear to him a long time ago that he was destined to be single.

"Welcome. I am Nelyna. I don't recognize you as one of your expected clients today. Would you like me to see when the Consort will be able to meet with you?" The asari had an overly-pleasant custom about her.

"Can't I just go in?" Shepard asked, and Garrus nearly laughed only to remind himself that the Commander would be unaware of some of the strange happenings on the Citadel.

"I'm afraid not. You must understand, there are many who seek the Consort's services. But if you wish to leave your name, she'll make every effort to meet with you." Shepard introduced herself, adding that she was a spectre. Smart move, couldn't hurt to establish rank. "Excellent. I will add you to our client list. We should be able to see you in…hmm, three or four months."

"What?" The Commander exclaimed, looking back at Garrus in bewilderment before turning back to the greeter. "Nobody's worth that much of a wait." She said rather emphatically.

"Well, I hope you'll return again in the future. We always enjoy seeing new clients," Nelyna told them as they turned to leave.

"What now?" he asked her. She rubbed her forehead in disappointment.

"I would've helped the elcor but he has way more time on his hands—or legs I guess, I can't wait around for three to four months." Garrus nodded his agreement when the greeter caught his attention once more.

"Of course, mistress," she was saying to a radio earpiece she wore before addressing him and the Commander. "It appears the Consort has taken notice of you. She'd like to meet with you now." Shepard exchanged an apprehensive glance with him, almost as if she was wondering if he'd had something to do with it. He merely shrugged and they were directed by Nelyna to cross the lounge and head up the staircase. As they walked down a long hall and towards the only door at the end, Garrus had to admit that he was a bit intrigued. He had never seen the Consort in person, and there was speculation that she was the most beautiful of asari, and he planned to decide that for himself.

Inside the room was a rounded couch along with an oval-shaped bed that appeared to be inside of a purple bubble. At the center, with her back to them, was an asari. Garrus stood just in from the door, while Shepard moved farther into the room. "That's close enough, Commander," The Consort said without facing them, "I've heard a great many things about you since your arrival here on our Citadel."

"What exactly do you do?" Shepard frankly asked.

"That depends on your needs. I offer advice to some, comfort to others," Sha'ira's voice changed on that word, taking on a more provocative tone. Over the years, Garrus had heard many different stories regarding what it was that the Consort did. Some said that she could predict the future, others that just being in her presence eased them of all troubles, but in his mind, she was nothing more than a glorified prostitute. "But that's not why I asked you here," she finally moved, meeting them face-to-face. Garrus didn't believe her to be prettier than any other asari he'd seen, although he noted that the coloring of her face was a bit more teal than blue. "I have a certain problem that could use your expertise." Of course. Somehow, Garrus was beginning to get the feeling that this sort of thing was a normal occurrence in Shepard's life.

"Maybe I can help." There wasn't the smallest inclination of corrupt intention, no sly, suggestive proclivity towards a self-interested venture, no gain to be had in the woman's voice. All that was there—unadulterated and artless was genuine sincerity. It still amazed him that someone in her position, of her influence was so openly and candidly generous. It had been a long time since he had seen that, perhaps that was why he was enjoying watching her. She was the definition of a breath of fresh air.

"I have a friend. Septimus, a retired turian general. I won't discuss the details but he wanted me to be more than I could be," she drew closer to Shepard, coming to stand not even an arm's length away from the woman. "We had a falling out. Now he spends his days in Chora's Den drinking and spreading lies about me," her hand reached out and graced the Commander's cheek, stroking it in a circular pattern. Garrus shifted uncomfortably on his feet finding this display to be extremely unpleasant to witness. He didn't know how the Commander managed to stay still and unchanged, as if what was taking place wasn't when he—just watching—was becoming uneasy. "If you would speak to him as a fellow soldier, I believe he will listen to you and let the matter be."

"What exactly do you want me to tell him?" Shepard's voice was as unfazed as the rest of her. The asari pulled back then.

"Appeal to his sense of honor. Remind him of his position as a general," she paused only to step forward and press her body up against the Commander's. She remained rigid in her stance as the Consort's cheek was inches from her face, her arms wrapping around her waist. Garrus' unease reached a new level then, evident in the reflexive click of his mandibles; he was quite disturbed. In all other circumstances he would have averted his gaze (something he desperately wanted to yield to) but he felt the innate need to witness what was occurring, to step in should the need arise. As if she would need you to step in, she's Commander Shepard. You're an idiot. "If you can convince him to stop spreading lies about me, I would be very grateful," the consort spoke innocently but Garrus knew that beneath her tone lied beguiling intent. And there it is. Sha'ira pulled away then. "Now, I must ask you to take your leave. I have many clients waiting to see me." With those few words she turned away once more and Shepard quickly exited with Garrus in tow.

He scrutinized her carefully as they returned to the Presidium, watching for any sign of distress or offense over what had just occurred. "Are you going to speak to the General?" He finally asked upon being unable to recognize any such condition in her.

"Of course," she answered plainly much to his disbelief. She really wanted to help the Consort after having just been subjected to such inappropriateness? It dawned on him then the possibility that for her it had not been unwanted attention, after all, those of all races and genders found the asari attractive. Neither one of them spoke again until they were through the Wards Access Corridor, standing side by side on an elevator. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she was the one to say. He noted the way her eyebrows were furrowing, it seemed she was ill at ease now.

"No judgements, Commander," he replied resolutely which seemed to relieve her as she didn't say anything more on the subject. Chora's Den was back up and running as if earlier that day the owner had not been killed by a krogan bounty hunter in the back room. Gives new meaning to business as usual. Patrons were back, seated at the various locations around the room where they were subject to private shows and dances. Towards the back, Garrus caught sight of a turian, rather glum looking, not taking part of any of the entertainment but rather nursing multiple drinks of alcohol. He pointed the man out to Shepard who nodded before taking the lead.

"Commander?" he asked roughly as he looked up to see her approaching. "Hmph. What do you want?"

"What's bothering you, General?" she inquired with concern and utmost respect for him.

"I've seen a lot of horrible things in my days and there's only one woman in this damn galaxy that helps me forget it."

"This is pathetic. What could a woman do to put you in this state?" The words were out of Garrus' mouth before he had time to realize what he was saying. While he partially regretted saying them, it didn't make it any less true. The fact that a turian of his standing would be spending his days getting drunk in a sleazy bar because an asari denied him? It was insulting! If it was up to Garrus, he would have dumped a bucket of cold water on the man and told him to suck it up. Of course, that would undoubtedly result in his arrest and the very likelihood of him never being able to set foot on Palaven again.

"Cause she rejected me. Me! Septimus Oraka, general of the turian fleet!" he yelled.

"I think I can see why you're upset," the Commander started, her tone neutral and controlled, "but spreading these lies won't make it better."

"Look, kid, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but don't waste your time." His subvocals were glum and dejected, as he bowed his head in defeat—clearly set in his decision. What else was there to do? It was obvious the turian wasn't going to be swayed but Garrus wasn't about to tell that to the Commander who seemed as determined as ever.

"General," Shepard said a bit more firmly, moving a tad closer to the table, "did you ever win a battle by moping in a bar?" Appealing to the military side of him, huh? He was intrigued to see if this would work.

"Ha, war!" Septimus threw his head back with a shallow laugh, leaning back to really size up the Commander. In his eyes there was a glint of something new, something that hadn't been there a second before. "That's what this feels like all right. How did I let it come to this?" He sighed the last part before sitting taller in his seat, looking to Shepard for her honest opinion. "So, you think it's that easy? Just straighten up and act like a general?" His voice wavered a moment, a sound that was unbecoming of a turian.

"It damn well couldn't hurt!" Garrus nearly shouted the words in response, but managed to say them more effectively.

"Huh," the General leaned forward once more, thoughtful now. "Maybe you're right, Commander. Sha'ira's worth the effort…even if she won't have me back."

"This is no place for someone of your stature, General." Those words from Shepard seemed to be the last push he required.

"All right. I'll go to her," he announced adamantly, "…after I've had a cold shower. Or two." He then proceeded to inform them that he was the one responsible for sharing the secrets of the elcor out of revenge. The Commander promised to set things straight with the diplomat. "Well, here's to soldiers acting like soldiers!" he downed the rest of his drink before standing up. "Thanks, Commander. You know…you might make a good general yourself one day." Garrus was impressed, not only had she managed to show great respect for the General (something Garrus himself had a hard time doing based on his state), she had rallied him and even got a turian general to compliment a human. She'd be the scariest politician.

"Shall we head back to Sha'ira?" Garrus asked her once Septimus had left.

"Soon, but while I'm here I need to speak to a girl named Jenna. Her sister asked me to talk to her." He recognized the name; he knew that she was currently being used by a C-Sec detective as a mole. Something told him that was exactly what the sister wanted Shepard to speak to her about. Finding her behind the bar, the Commander approached her.

"I need to talk to you about your work with C-Sec," she told the other woman when she had attempted to write-off the conversation. The short-haired human, dressed in the same scantily-clad outfits as the dancers feigned ignorance. Shepard tried once more to convince her, mentioning how dangerous what she was doing was and while Garrus agreed that it was dangerous, he knew that Jenna would have originally agreed to it being fully aware of the risks. He also knew that she would be being watched at a safe distance, to ensure her protection but things could always go wrong. He had seen it too many times to count.

"Now you sound like my sister. Why is everyone so concerned about me? I can take care of myself. I need to go. I'm not a stripper. I don't get paid to stand around and look pretty." Jenna was resolute as she walked away. Garrus was a little surprised when the Commander seemed to resign herself to what happened and start for the exit. He had half-expected her to continue until she'd dragged Jenna from Chora's Den kicking and screaming. I guess she knows when she's been beat.

It was then that he noticed Chellick, the very C-Sec detective, dressed in civilian attire come stumbling through the entrance. He leaned down and whispered something to Shepard as she passed.

"Push off! I never did nothing to you," he shouted while physically shoving her after she had asked him to repeat himself. "Damn newcomers. Think they can run the place," he muttered before staggering off.

"What did he say?" Garrus inquired once they were outside.

"he told me to meet him at C-Sec Academy," she answered, a perplexed expression crossing her face. He nodded his understanding.

"His name's Chellick, he's a detective."

"Friend of yours?"

"Just a co-worker." Or former co-worker.

"We'd better go see what he wants."

They were down in the Lower Level Markets, waiting for a krogan named 'Jax'. Somehow, Shepard had managed to convince Chellick to drop Jenna from his case into tracking down an illegal arms producer, only to then agree to meeting with the seller. She was to pretend to be the buyer and to return to Chellick with the evidence once she had it, without arresting Jax. Garrus was a bit concerned that the Commander's better nature would make that part rather difficult for her. Across the room a krogan (not to the same degree in size or scars as Wrex) came shuffling towards them, a sleazy-looking turian behind him. I wonder how that partnerships working out. "Hold it. That's close enough, army. You got my payment?" he gruffly asked.

"Do you have the mods?" Shepard's tone was icy, dripping with uninterest in what was occurring. Jax motioned to the turian who opened a case that held the mods. He showed them to Garrus.

"Looks good," he told Shepard after briefly inspecting them.

"Damn straight it is!" Jax suddenly erupted, "these mods are the best on the market. Now hand over my credits." Before he could even blink Shepard had raised her pistol, pointing it in the face of the krogan. Garrus immediately followed suit in support even though his mind was yelling at her. What are you doing?

"I'm taking you in Jax," she declared. That's exactly what Chellick didn't want! He won't find the producer now.

"It's a sting! Bastard set us up!" the turian raised a shotgun. There was no way they were getting out of there without a firefight.

"The hell are you playing at?" Jax incredulously asked as if he couldn't quite believe someone would have the gall to double-cross him. Garrus's sight flickered back and forth between Shepard and the turian who had branded his weapon, only to watch in complete bewilderment as she gave a wide smile.

"Just kidding," she said charmingly while lowering her weapon. "here's your money, Jax." She transferred the credits.

"Sense of humor, huh? That's going to get you killed one of these days, army!" Garrus continued to stare at her, it wasn't quite clear to him what exactly had just happened.

"What?" her voice was innocent as she looked back at him.

"Why did—what?" he found himself stumbling over the words, unable to form a complete sentence. She rolled her eyes.

"Thought I'd have some fun, make Jax sweat a moment. You didn't really think I was going to arrest him, did you?" He didn't reply and it caused her to laugh; a soft and effortlessly pleasing sound that seemed to radiate around him. It caused her nose to wrinkle and set alight her eyes.

"Honestly, I wasn't quite sure," he finally said, all the while still enthralled with the way she was smiling. "You're a dangerous, woman." The humor was still on her face as she started from the area, knowing full well that he was right behind her.

"Only sometimes."

A/N

Decided to be cowardly and put off the Garrus/Castis confrontation for as long as possible. Instead some nice budding friendship!

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