Chapter Six: He Means Well

Chellick had been quite satisfied when they returned with the mods and he promised to keep his bargain in letting Jenna go. When they had turned to leave, Shepard already in the corridor, the turian had called Garrus back in. There was a smug expression on his face from where he sat behind his desk. "So, you quit C-Sec to what? Follow around a human? Was there no asari tail available?"

"What are you talking about, Chellick?" Garrus demanded. He knew full well what the turian was implying but he hoped feigning ignorance would cause the man to lose interest in his goading. He shrugged conceitedly. Apparently not.

"Just that I never pictured you to get in bed with the humans." Before Garrus could argue Chellick continued, "what does Vakarian senior think of your resignation?"

"I don't think he knows yet," he replied. There was a voice inside him (that cynical one) that told him that wasn't the truth but he was intent to believe it for as long as possible.

"Trust me Garrus, if I've heard, then he's heard," Chellick boastfully put. Without another word he left, catching up with Shepard who was waiting down by the elevator.

"Everything good?" She glanced at him. He nodded even though in the back of his mind his concern was growing. They headed back to the Consort Chambers on the Presidium, where Nelyna immediately waved them through to go and speak with her mistress once more. Sha'ira greeted them when they entered her room, a pleased grin on her face as she faced them.

"Commander, I recently received a lovely note from Septimus. Thank you for speaking with him."

"It was my honor to aid you," Shepard politely responded. Much too polite Garrus thought, considering what had occurred last time they were before her.

"You are too kind, Commander," the asari smiled flirtatiously, "but I would not expect you to help me out of the kindness of your heart. I also have one more thing to give you, if you are interested." Garrus had a bad feeling about this, his mandibles became tense as did his spine.

"I'd be honored," the Commander said much to Garrus' annoyance.

"I offer a gift of words." The Consort moved closer to Shepard. Here we go again! "An affirmation of who you are, and who you will become. I see you." He noted the way the asari's eye's tightened as she seemed to study the human woman's face. "…your uniform fits as though you were born wearing it. You are a soldier through and through. Proud, solitary…alone," she paused on that word and for a moment it hung in the still air of the room, "but it gives you strength. That strength is what kept you alive when everyone around you was dying. You alone survived. You will continue to survive. This may be who you are, but it is not who you will become. It only forms the basis for your future greatness. Remember these words when doubt descends, Commander." That was it. The asari stopped talking and took a few steps back.

"You have quite a gift, Sha'ira," Shepard said once the Consort had grown quiet.

"Thank you. Not everyone appreciates it as you do. Never underestimate the power of words. And now, I must ask you to leave. I have done everything I can for you." Garrus continued to think of the words Sha'ira had spoken when they left. He found them strange and tried his best to recall what he knew about the Commander; her history was public record after all. He thought he'd heard that her parents were both in the military—that was something turians respected, generations of military service. She'd been in the Skyllian Blitz; that batarian assault on Elysium and of course there was Akuze (which Officer Eddie Lang had mentioned), he wasn't aware of all the details regarding it, just that an Alliance Marine unit had been sent in to investigate something and only one marine came out—Commander Shepard.

While he was still contemplating what had been said, Shepard didn't seem too bothered or reflective as she stretched her arms casually above her head out on the Presidium. "What time is it?" she asked aloud while going to check her Omni-tool. He did the same after she gave a confused expression. They were heading into the late evening. "This thing must be broken," she muttered a she double-checked it and then glanced up at the bright sky.

"It's correct," he assured, causing her to eye him, "they keep the artificial sunlight on at all times."

"No wonder I'm starving!" she exclaimed, nearly prompting him to chuckle. "Anywhere around here we can get something quick to eat?" It took him a moment to realize she had been addressing him with the question, her eyes staring up at him in expectancy.

"Uh…yes," he answered slowly while also trying his best to think of a location in their proximity of the Presidium that provided levo and dextro food. He believed there to be a small hub down by the Emporium and Barla Von's office that had sandwiches and such, often frequented by those who resided at the Embassies. He led the way down to it, and after a brief study of the menu she ordered something called a 'BLT' and due to her persistence, he requested the first turian-friendly item he saw. She insisted that she pay as a thank you for his help and "dragging you about the Citadel" even though he did not believe his assistance to have been necessary once in the slightest. Maybe she just enjoyed the company, he didn't know. They found a couple benches that looked out over the Presidium lake, Garrus making sure to provide a large quantity of space between him and Shepard (he was about half off the bench due to his effort in ensuring she was comfortable) but she didn't seem to take notice as she sat down casually beside him and immediately tucked into her food.

Within about a minute, during which time he had only taken one bite of the fried meat he had, she had already downed half of her sandwich. And I thought turians could eat fast. The Commander took a large swallow as she made eye contact with him, a sheepish expression crossing her face while on his must have evidently been one of astonishment. "Sorry," her forehead furrowed as she spoke the word almost guilty-like. It was as if she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "I'm so used to scarfing down food at a moment's notice that I forget to slow down when I actually have time to eat."

"I hadn't noticed," he lied, his subvocals making it extremely apparent as his mandibles gave a quick click. He witnessed an amused smile light her face and she took another bite of her food. "If I had noticed, I'd say that you rival turians." She about choked as she started to laugh. "Possibly even some krogan."

"Well aren't you cheeky?" She jutted her elbow into his exposed side, he believed it to be a playful mannerism, but due to his natural plating he didn't really feel it.

"Cheeky?" he repeated, finding the word strange. "I don't believe turians have 'cheeks'."

"No," she snickered, "it means more like—sassy."

"Sassy?" the flanging of his voice did nothing to hide his incredulous tone, "I have never been described as sassy." She gave off that musical laugh, the one that caused his mandibles to twitch in enjoyment of it.

"maybe sassy isn't the best word to describe it." There was a wide grin on her face, and for a moment he was jealous that he was unable to reciprocate the visible emotion. She glanced at her omni-tool once she'd finished her food. "You'd better go get your things before we depart. Sorry I took up so much of your time."

"Not a problem," he replied, before adding, "it was…," he searched for the right word, "interesting."

"I think you mean 'lacking in excitement'." She stood up and stretched once more.

"that's the Citadel for you," he answered as he too moved to his feet.

"I'm pretty sure where we're going, there'll be plenty of excitement to make up for it." There was an impish gleam in her eye.

"I look forward to it."

The excursion with the Commander had taken up most of the time in their two-hour window and now Garrus had a little more than thirty minutes to get to his apartment, grab what necessities he could and make his way to the Normandy's docking bay. It had been a long time since he had served on a ship, something he had always enjoyed during his days in the turian military. It was just another added incentive to joining the Spectre and her team and from what he'd heard the Normandy was quite a ship—the first to be build as a joint project between humans and turians. Hopefully that meant there would be some familiarity in the design. It would be strange serving amongst mostly humans, he was thankful for the addition of a krogan (oddly enough) and especially a quarian—with Tali aboard there would most definitely be dextro-food. He was more than ready to be gone, to have left the Citadel and his days in C-Sec behind him.

He should have noticed when he got to his apartment that the door was unlocked, any other instance he would have, but due to being lost in his thought process he didn't perceive it and was alarmed upon entering and taking in the sight of the familiar turian seated in a chair across the room. Castis Vakarin shifted to stand at his entry, his stance stoic, stiff, and resolute. Despite the fact that Garrus had long ago reached his father's height, he still viewed him as being a head taller mainly because of the way Castis carried himself. He'd always seemed larger than life to Garrus, and because of that, Garrus had been incapable of ever measuring up to his father's aspirations for him.

"Hi, Dad," he spoke up, hoping that his starting of the conversation would somehow lessen what was inevitably to come—a fool's hope really. If a turian was capable of scowling then Castis was succeeding; his rigid mandibles that were clasped so tight they looked painful, the way the plates that met together on his forehead were creased in a constricted fashion, and his brown eyes that were smoldering and chilling all at the same time.

"Why have you resigned from C-Sec?" he demanded, his mandibles barely moving as he spoke, his subvocals full of an intense reservation. Garrus knew that his father would know the reason why, but the man wanted to hear it from him and so he relented.

"I'm going after Saren." A dissatisfied, conceited growl emanated from Castis. "The human spectre, Commander Shepard has asked me to join her."

"Spectre," the word came from the turian's mouth as if he was swallowing ryncol, "you are not a spectre." Yeah, no thanks to you. The thought echoed around his head for a brief second before he pushed it away. One thing he had always tried his best to do was to not be resentful of the way his father had raised him, molded him—some things were easier than others.

"None of us are, she's taking along me, a quarian, krog—."

"—what are you doing?" the turian interrupted almost in an eruption. "Humans? Krogans? Spirits, have you lost all sense?" Castis looked at him as if he no longer recognized him, like he was some strange turian who had forsaken the old ways. More like I'm bare-faced. Garrus sighed trying his best to remain calm and reminding himself that his father meant well, even if this was the only way he was able to show it.

"I'm doing something right," he answered and he believed that. It had been so long since he had been able to really do anything meaningful at C-Sec, and he had desperately wanted to help and do meaningful things through C-Sec. His father had instilled that in him, it was because of watching Castis' determination and drive to do right things, put away bad guys and overall be a hero that he himself wanted to do the same—something he had yet to ever do or be.

"No!" the turian stalked towards him in a threatening manner, "working at C-Sec is right!" he jutted a gloved talon in his direction, "not this! Jetting about the galaxy, chasing after madmen without any checks or balances, that isn't what we do!" He knew full well what his father was really saying, 'you're a Vakarian. This isn't what a Vakarian would do'. He was beginning to lose his cool, the words Castis spoke starting to nestle under his plating and cause unrest.

"face it dad, I've never been very good at doing what 'we' do." He pushed past the man, turning his attention to the room and attempting to create a checklist in his mind of the items he would need.

"because you don't try!" Garrus froze. He whirled on the man, staring at him in bewilderment.

"Don't try?" he was absolutely gob smacked (he believed that to be a phrase and it was the only thing that came close to what he was feeling right then). How could his dad say such a thing? How could he believe such a thing?

"You've always complained when things got too hard. You've always been quick to give up when something doesn't go right or go your way. You can't be bothered to put in enough effort or work, to stick at something long enough to see a difference!"

"That's not true!" he roared back, his mandibles and subvocals flaring. He'd lost it now, and it was very unlikely he would be able to reign it back in.

"I thought you understood that, that day in the fields with the rifle. Yet here you are, giving up because it's gotten hard."

"Maybe it's just hard being your son!" he shouted the words before he had fully thought them. This wasn't really new though; he and his father had seen less and less of each other ever since that day when he'd gone to confront him for releasing Kishpaugh—he'd spent nearly a year putting the case against him together and in one day his father burned it all to ash. They couldn't seem to get anywhere now without arguing, so why had Garrus really thought this would go any differently? And why did he think anything he said would possibly change his father's mind? The words Garrus had said seemed to hang in the air between them, as they both had fallen quiet. The atmosphere had changed, the tension had dissipated. There wasn't anger or frustration anymore. Just disappointment, regret, and acceptance. Castis' voice was low when he spoke again.

"you're not the son I raised." The words were hollow, cold, and they stung. Garrus turned away, unable to face looking at the defeat in the turian's eyes. It wasn't a word he would have ever associated his father with, if anything the man had always been undefeated. Except when it comes to me. He stayed silent for a long moment, unable to find his voice to respond.

"maybe…maybe I'm not," he finally managed to say, "Dad…," he started, turning once more only to witness the apartment door slide shut. He was alone. Garrus sunk to the bed, somehow, he suddenly felt drained, as if he didn't have the energy to do anything. He gave himself a minute, a brief reprieve to wallow before picking himself back up. He had things to do, and a place to go. He pushed everything that had just occurred as far down as he could muster, he wouldn't dwell on it anymore—he couldn't. Not if he wanted to continue thinking clearly. What do I need? Armor, check. Weapons, check. Some clothes, check. Dextro-rations, check. My father not to be disappointed in me? He scratched at the plating above his eyes. Suddenly he was feeling very inadequate. Absentmindedly he dressed in the armor from his days in the military, tossing the other amenities into his travel bag. He reached for his Mantis, about to strap it to his back but instead he took hold of it in both hands, stroking the scope as he remembered that very day his father had mentioned. 'Why are we doing this? I'm not going to get any better,' he'd said. 'Then this is exactly when you try harder. This is when you pull yourself together and you do it.' He holstered the weapon, swung the bag over his shoulder and left his apartment behind not knowing quite when he would see it again—or if. In the elevator his father's words continued to ring out through his head.

'…if you stop now—if you give up on something when it gets hard—you're never going to make it anywhere in life.' A skycar arrived and it transported him back to the Presidium where he would make his way to the docking bay. 'I'm not doing this to punish you. My job as your father isn't to make your life easy.' Was he making the right choice? He didn't notice her at first, not until his distracted eyes registered the wave of the hand. And there she was, bright-eyed and smiling just as she had been when he had left her a short while ago.

"you coming, Vakarian?" she called, a light and airy tone full of possibility and unknowns. '—Its to teach you how to be an adult'. He didn't have an answer as to whether or not this was the right choice, only that this was the choice he was making.

"Right behind you, Shepard."

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