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Rocks and Shoals

Part One: Run Aground Off the Reefs

Chapter Three: Riot in the Blood

"She peeked up at him through her fingers. 'You're like my twelve labors, aren't you?' she moaned in exhaustion." - In a post-war galaxy, Kolyat and Oriana found each other when they went looking for themselves.

"That makes absolutely no sense. You are without sense, do you know that? Completely senseless, I say."

"Would you stop?" Oriana groaned, pulling up short just outside Precinct 12's doors after exiting. Officers passed by as the two of them argued. Oriana slapped the datapad in her hand against her thigh in frustration. "You're not helping."

"But I told you where to go. Did you study the maps I sent you at all?" Kolyat growled and crossed his arms.

"Yes," she seethed. She pulled the datapad back up and jabbed her other finger at the screen. "And I want to set up on the Presidium."

Kolyat threw his hands into the air and paced four steps out, then stalked back up to her, heaving an exasperated sigh. "It's pointless. I told you that already. Tower and presidium systems aren't even a priority anymore. They're working on half the power, with practically no inter-relay comm. lines past Horsehead, and minimal maintenance crews. It's all here." He spread his arms wide. "It's the wards, baby. That's where it's at. We've got to set up the main processing center out this way, preferably in Section 12 where we have easier access."

Oriana's nostrils flared. "I'm not talking about a center for the grunt work of sorting through the victims but a central communications hub for all the embassies. You know, the embassies that are on the Presidium? I need to be able to contact their representatives immediately for census data and deployment status, for casualty lists and transport manifests." She shook the datapad threateningly between them. "And I can't do that here, you lug. This place is barely holding together as it is."

Kolyat scoffed at her. "Bailey will approve the power transfers if we tell him we need it here. We'll get you your precious communications network but it makes no sense to set up separately from the tracing department."

Oriana rolled her eyes again, a popular activity it seemed. "It won't matter if every square inch of Rakasi ward is filled to the brim with temporary settlements. There's simply no space. The Presidium is the best choice."

"No, it's not."

Oriana's brows dipped lowly. "Yes, it is."

"So tell me, Lawson, tell me. What was the point of having me as a liaison then, hmm?" he snapped at her. "Because you seem to be doing jack shit with all my suggestions." He motioned to the datapad in her hand.

She blew a harsh breath through her flared nostrils. "To coordinate with the other governmental officials, of course. Not," she intoned, finger brought up to iterate the point, "to consult on Safe Home's set-up procedures."

"Look, do you want this to work or not?" he asked gruffly.

"Of course I do."

"Then let me help you."

"But it isn't – "

"Give me the datapad."

"What?" She pulled it protectively against her chest.

"Give me the datapad," he repeated, hand stretched out expectantly toward her.

She narrowed her eyes at the suspicious hand and then looked back up at him, shaking her head.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Kolyat sighed heavily. "Lawson, I swear on all that you find holy, I will bludgeon you with that fucking pad if you do not give it to me."

She released a choked yelp of indignation at the threat and curled her fingers tighter around the pad. "Violence is hardly the best means to persuade me, you Neanderthal."

Kolyat dropped his hand from his forehead and raised his brows at her. "You're making it increasingly difficult not to use violence, Lawson."

She scowled at him. "Okay, look, I've heard your suggestions, but I really think –"

"You know what's going to happen?" he interrupted.

She snapped her mouth shut, her outrage at his presumption slowly boiling beneath her skin but her voice was strangled somewhere in her throat with the vexation.

"Here, I'll tell you," Kolyat continued, stepping closer, arms gesturing in the air with his words. "Each time you want to make a call outside the system, you're going to have to wait for power crews to make their way up to the Presidium to manually reconnect the transponders and flush out the field grid. Why is that you ask? Because when the Crucible fired it blew out over seventy percent of the containment coils, and ventric radiation has been flooding the field grid in small enough increments to corrode the relay connections. It isn't enough to poison any of us humanoids but it's a secondary concern when the power teams are just trying to focus on keeping the fucking lights on down here in the wards. Now," Kolyat paused, licking his lips as he continued and glared at her.

Oriana crossed her arms defensively over her chest but stayed silent, eyes narrowed dangerously at him as she motioned him to continue.

"Now," he began again, "If you set up down here on Rakasi ward instead, you have a better chance of getting someone off-station. Alliance docks are in Section 12, and since Earth is fucking right there, then that means resources we can use."

Oriana kept staring at him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Look, I'm not here to butt heads, I just-"

"Well, you could have fooled me," she interrupted.

He glared at her, and then continued cautiously, as though prepared for an attack. And really he was, because the woman looked about ready to throttle him and he was not about to suffer that embarrassment. "I just think that you have this idea in your head of how the Citadel is. But it isn't. Not anymore. The Presidium's lost. It's not what's important anymore. This," he pointed down to the ground at his feet, "this is it. This is all that's left from the war. And it's all we've got right now." He didn't think it would hurt so much to say it, but there it was. Glaring, apparent loss. The long standing Citadel, decimated, ruined, lost. A footnote in history. It was a glimmer of what it used to be, and some part of him felt like that was a statement about him as well. About all of them. The survivors. The ones left.

Damaged and beaten and so many light years away from what they used to be that the past is practically non-existent anymore. A faint dream of what was, but now isn't, and could never be again. Did he even remember what he used to be? Did he want to? And was there a point?

No, he thought. It meant absolute shit at this point. Because he's here now, and there's no going back, and he's tired of looking behind him when all there seems to be is pain and it just carves at his insides when he thinks of living a life like that. But he knows no other way to be. No other way but angry and resentful and full of ripe bitterness. It's what's kept him alive so far, and whatever little boy he used to be – whatever stupid, longing, naïve boy that used to tug on his father's coat with pleading eyes – that boy wasn't needed anymore.

And he didn't understand why she held on to this gleaming, unattainable dream of what the Citadel still stood for. Because there was nothing. It barely stood, period, at this point. And it seemed such a futile dream. Such a stupid, selfish dream.

It's gone, little girl.

And so are we.

Oriana pulled her lip into her mouth and watched him. Something flitted across her face that he couldn't recognize, not now at least (and not for many years to come), and then she grabbed for his sleeve, not quickly, but the motion was so unexpected that he actually let her. He stared down at her hand in the fabric of his uniform.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Kolyat blinked at her.

She looked down to her hand on his sleeve, her fingers tightening in the bunch of material. "I didn't think that…" She stopped, looked up.

He kept staring.

Slowly, she removed her hand, fingers curling unsurely around her datapad. "Okay. Rakasi ward it is."

Kolyat opened his mouth but then decided there was nothing to say to that. He grunted in acknowledgement.

Oriana drew a breath in, looked around the ward as though regaining her bearings, and then pulled the datapad from her chest and started tapping keys. "I still don't know how we're going to find the room though…"

When she flicked her gaze up to him through the fringe of her hanging hair, he finally regained his capacity for coherent speech. "We'll make it work."

She blew a heavy breath from her lips and shook her head. "I sure hope so."

At that moment, someone calling Kolyat's name caught his attention and he looked up to find a female turian agent walking toward them, waving off her partner and holstering her weapon at her hip. She had a deep brown, almost burgundy, tint to her skin, with forest green markings along the left side of her face, just under her eye and over the curve of her cheek.

Kolyat managed a feeble smile at her presence. "Hey, Kaz. What's going on?"

The turian stopped just before them, glancing up and down Oriana as the woman finally looked up from her datapad. "Just your routine patrol. Who's this?"

Oriana opened her mouth to respond but Kolyat waved a dismissive hand. "This is Lawson, Safe Home's rep, the whole VicTrace thing last week's debriefing was about."

Oriana pursed her lips in annoyance at the introduction, and extended her hand to Kaz, a smile breaking its way to her face, even through her irritation. "The name's Oriana Lawson. I'll be working closely with your department from here on in."

Kaz shook her hand, amused by the tense atmosphere between the two. "Kaz Lorkat. Section 12's resident tech expert."

Oriana gripped the turian's hand in both of hers, datapad wedged between her arm and her ribs. "Tech expert? Then maybe you can help us." She looked excitedly to Kolyat and then back to Kaz, her eyes gleaming. "I'm trying to set up a communications hub here at Rakasi ward but we don't have the necessary conduits and the power grid is just ridiculous, what with all the power outages and well, I was hoping you could help us set up a power transfer from the Presidium, and maybe establish a secure inter-relay hub here, near the precinct."

Kaz simply stared at the woman and Kolyat smirked in mild amusement. Oriana remembered herself then and released the other woman's hand. Kaz shook it experimentally and eyed Oriana with a newfound hesitance.

"Sorry," Oriana muttered, hands finding the datapad once more. "I'm just…anxious to get this project up and running."

Kaz raised a brow. "I'll…see what I can do." She looked to Kolyat. "Bailey will have to approve the transfers, and we'll need a team to disassemble the Presdium's field grid. It'll have more use down here."

Kolyat shrugged, pocketing his hands. "The old man'll do it. Don't worry about it."

Kaz nodded. "Alright then. I'll be in touch." She gave Oriana one last flick of her mandibles, what Kolyat knew passed for a tight smile, and then brushed past them toward the sliding doors of Section 12's precinct.

Oriana dropped her face into one palm and groaned. "I'm really making friends here," she muttered piteously.

Kolyat took the moment to smirk in satisfaction at her agony, crossing his arms and watching her smugly. "Oh yeah, your charming personality is just raking them in."

She peeked up at him through her fingers. "You're like my twelve labors, aren't you?" she moaned in exhaustion.

He raised a brow at her remark, completely missing the human mythology reference.

"Nevermind," she dismissed, straightening up, hand falling from her face. "Just…forget it."

He shrugged. Already forgotten. Honestly, it wasn't like he paid attention to half of what the woman said anyway.

"Alright, why don't we check out Cross Section H? It looks like a pretty decent place to set up camp."

Kolyat merely shrugged his acquiescence.

Oriana nodded, and then headed off from the precinct.

"Uh, Lawson? It's this way."

Oriana looked back to find Kolyat chucking a thumb behind him.

She stalked back up to him. "Wouldn't it be easier to head this way?" She pointed down the direction she came.

Kolayt shook his head. "Not unless you want to run through the roughest part of the camps."

"It's shorter."

"It's also more dangerous."

She planted her hands on her hips. "Isn't that why you're with me?"

"Do you see a weapon on me, Lawson?" He spread his arms wide.

She frowned at him. "I seem to recall a route you staked out in these maps," she retorted, waving the datapad before him.

"You're mistaken," he snapped. "This is the best way to Cross Section H." Again, the directional thumb.

Oriana huffed. "But you see here – " She tapped open a viewscreen on her datapad and immediately slapped Kolyat's hand away when he reached for it.

He scowled at her. "Oh," he spat, hands suddenly raised high in the air as he backed up a step. "I'm sorry," he sneered. "Are you the drell with the eidetic memory? No? No? Well then." He smacked his lips in irritation and Oriana's eyes practically sailed through the ceiling with the intensity of her eye-roll.

"Fine," she growled, shoving the datapad into his hands. "You lead."

He let his smug grin linger a little too long on his face.

"You look stupid," she jabbed, because it was all she could say.

His grin fell, eyes narrowing.

She sauntered past him, too proud to look back and too embarrassed to say anything more.

Thus passed the first days of their partnership.

"What about Keh'lani ward?" Oriana posed her question across the conference room table to Kolyat as he sat leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of the table.

He shook his head, scrolling through data on the pad in his hands, not even looking up at her. "It's not feasible yet. Tech crews down there are still trying to set up a secure connection to Rakasi. And it's not proving easy."

Oriana ran a hand through her short, dark hair, irritated. "It's the most populated ward on the Citadel. We need to get a processing center set up there as soon as possible."

Kolyat glanced at her, one brow lifted. "It's also the most crime-ravaged ward, Lawson."

"All the more reason to get established down there."

Kolyat frowned. "You mean, all the more reason to be cautious about establishing down there."

She threw him an exasperated look and reached for her mug of coffee, taking a scalding sip before continuing. "No. I mean exactly what I say. The sooner we can get a foothold the better."

He set his datapad down, attention solely on her. "You're being reckless."

"I'm being practical."

"Funny, it seems quite the opposite to me."

She grumbled. "Look, the reason crime is so high on Keh'lani is because of the over-population. It breeds desperation since resources are so strained. And since we can't up the food reserves and we can't enable inter-ward travel, then the best we can do is give them some kind of hope. Having a Victims Tracing center there is just that."

Kolyat steepled his hands together and gave her a withering look. "Or it becomes just the kind of facility that scavengers are looking to raid for scrap materials. We can't set up down there until the populace is subdued."

"Subdued?" she asked incredulously, pausing her mug just below her lips. "You make it sound like they're criminals."

"A lot of them are."

She let out a snort of disgust, lowering her mug back to the table. "They're refugees. They need our help."

"And we're giving it to them. But that doesn't guarantee your safety if you go down there."

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. "Isn't that part of your job?"

His cheek twitched. "I think you overestimate my ability, Lawson."

"Well, at least one of us said it."

His hands curled tightly over the edge of the table. "Look, I'm here to make the settle-in easier, to be your connection between the embassies, and to offer any insight into the camps that will help aid your organization's efforts. I'm not here to put up with your snark and arrogance."

Her mouth gaped open for a moment, before she shut it with some effort. "And I'm not here to be insulted."

"You should have thought about that before you got all holier-than-thou on me."

"I'm not the one with the disposition of a yahg."

"You sure about that?"

She scowled, gaze shifting away from him before she vaulted over the table to strangle him. "Why is everything a confrontation with you?" she grumbled.

"Because you always insist on being right, even when you're not," he spat back, waving a hand in her direction.

She slanted narrow eyes at him. "Well, it's impossible to get you to agree to anything when you object to everything that comes out of my mouth."

"Everything that comes out of your mouth is ridiculous."

"And everything that comes out of yours isn't worth the breath it takes to say it." And then she stopped. Because that wasn't the entire truth. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and then stiffened, immediately regretting the instant apology. Because she was always the one apologizing. Why couldn't he do it for a change? It's not like she was the only one who slung heated words, and his were far worse most of the time. She was tired of trying to reach out that olive branch and having it shat on, continuously. She was just so tired of arguing. There were enough problems in the galaxy, on this Citadel, in this fucking room even, to be going on about how much they disliked each other. There was no changing that. He was bad-tempered, churlish, antagonizing. And she was…well, she was trying. And she couldn't say the same for him.

It was like…God, it was like dealing with a petulant teenager. She would have thought that someone of his experience and plight in the world would have matured beyond prepubescent varren but nope, there he was, still lingering in the primordial muck, so it seemed. Still light years behind the rest of them. Still in the midst of arrested emotional aptitude.

She honestly didn't see any benefit to having him there except to test her patience, which, she thought, was quite thoroughly challenged at this point.

Ever since their first meeting, he had been nothing but disagreeable. Shooting down her ideas without offering ample alternatives. Insulting her opinions. Putting more effort into angering her than actually being helpful. And why? Why? Because she recognized his name? Because she mentioned his father upon their first meeting? Well, boo fucking hoo. It wasn't like she intentionally dug the knife in. She had no idea.

Though she did soon after, because research had always been her thing and she had since learned enough about the late Thane Krios and his abandoned son to warrant the most miniscule of her empathy. But no more. Because he sure as hell didn't have the patent on fucked up fathers and she was not about to coddle this pathetic boy because he was too fucked up to manage his own shit. No. That wasn't fair. And she was tired of trying to justify herself to this asshole. She didn't understand why it meant so much that she prove to him how important her work was. How important her ideals were.

Why did she fucking care in the first place? It didn't matter. He didn't matter. Not in the long run. And she could live with him not giving a rat's ass about her work and her needs and her tireless beliefs – at least, she should – but then she didn't feel like she had to. Because wasn't it worth it to think that there was still meaning left in the galaxy? That hard work perseveres and people are inherently good and all that flowery bullshit she strives for every day? Because why the fuck would you continue to live in a world where you didn't think life was worth it?

She didn't get it. Couldn't understand his inherent cynicism and his complete disregard of anything remotely connected to happiness. She hadn't even seen anything that could pass for a smile cross his face in the time that she'd known him and damn if that wasn't exhausting.

She woke up every day, walked outside her sparse C-Sec accommodations, and found him waiting outside against the rail. He'd nod silently, push off, and then walk ahead of her to the entrance of the barracks and then out to the Rapid Transit Depot. They'd sit in silence throughout the minutes-long trip, occasionally trade a barb or two, and then they'd arrive at the precinct and she'd bury herself in work. It was all just…endless. No let up. No reprieve. And it was like he didn't even fucking care. Like it was just another assignment for him.

And it was so much more for her.

Her sister, all broad smiles and cocky voice, whispering "I'll find you when it's over", before wrapping her arms around her and clinging tighter than she'd ever held anything in her life.

Even her parents.

Because Miranda was the last, the final, the only tie left. The sole reason she could stand up and move on and be the person she wanted to be, had to be, knew she could be. All because she knew she wasn't alone. She had a sister who could hold her hand and knock her shoulder and chide her laughingly for being a mush. Even though she was.

Even though she'd never admit to crying in the end there.

Waving goodbye as Miranda sauntered off toward her shuttle, smile brilliant and promising and then…gone.

She hadn't seen it since.

No one would know what it was like to fall to her knees in the empty docking port and cry out her sister's name, arms cradling in on herself, body wracked with sobs. She wasn't strong enough to stop her, and she wasn't selfish enough to want to. But some part of her knew. Some small, insistent, inevitable part of her – knew.

Miranda wasn't coming back.

Oriana shook her head, the thought leaving her. She felt the inkling of wetness on her lids and blinked it back vehemently, sinking further in her chair.

He didn't deserve to witness her tears.

"Do you even realize how sanctimonious you sound?" His question was venomous, his eyes dark on hers across the table.

She rolled her eyes, pushing from her seat and stalking the length of the conference room. Because she couldn't stay still. Not with him. He made her writhe and shake and tremble violently. He made every molecule riot inside her blood. Made every muscle twitch in heated vexation. She turned swiftly and paced back to the seat she had vacated. "What – what – is your problem with me, Krios?" She stopped, arms ramrod straight at her sides, looking at him with this intensity she was sure would humble his gaze.

It didn't. He only glared harder. "Do you have the time for me to answer that?"

She groaned loudly and threw her hands into the air. "I swear, it's like talking to a fucking infant." She started pacing again.

"Well, if you weren't so condescending – "

"I'm not the one being condescending!" she shouted back.

"You never even listen to my suggestions."

"They're not suggestions! They're rejections. If you perhaps offered alternatives…"

"That's all I fucking do!" He slapped the datapad that previously rested in his lap along the edge of the table.

"All you do is complain." She stopped in her pacing and braced her hands along the table, leaning over with a sneer.

Kolyat stood and mirrored her posture, throwing the datapad across the table. She retracted back at the motion. "Oh that's rich, coming from you," he said with scorn.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think it's quite apparent."

"What's apparent to me is how far your head seems to be stuck up your –"

"Not as far as the stick up your –"

"God, your self-importance is just beyond nauseating."

"As is your superiority complex."

She scoffed, arms folding across her chest. "At least I have principles."

Kolyat's hands curled into fists atop the table. "Don't you get it? Don't you fucking get it, Lawson? You're too blinded by your own pompous ass to see it."

"What?" she snapped. "Please, enlighten me, oh wise wonder of the epic bullshit."

"It's not about having your principles, you absolute twat," he growled. "Not about the right principles, or the principles. It's about having principles, period – your own, and not some stolen everyman's bullshit – it's about holding them true to yourself and living your fucking life by them and not giving a fuck whether someone else agrees with them. But you – you can't abide by anyone playing by any rules other than your own, can you?"

"I just don't – "

"Get off your fucking pedestal, Lawson. You're no better than the rest of us."

She blinked furiously at him. "I'm not trying to say I am. Where are you even coming from with this? I'm just trying to put some good out into the world and you come in here and just shit on everything I try to do."

"Because it means absolute shit when there are people out there that are never – never – coming back! And you can't fix that!" He was shaking. She could see it from where she stood.

She ground her teeth and felt her rage burrowing deep in her marrow. "Then what the hell are you even doing here, Krios? What? Some pathetic repentance? Some debt to your father? Are you here for a fucking personality transplant? WHAT?"

He slammed a fist down on the table hard enough to rattle it.

She nearly stepped back in caution.

"Don't you fucking –"

The door slid open.

Both parties blinked heatedly at the turian agent that stood innocently in the doorway. "Uh, am I interrupting something?" he asked cautiously, mandibles flicking once in a tight quiver of unease.

There was a long, taut tension that suffused the room. The air itself seemed to crack and fracture between them.

Oriana pulled in a deep, slow breath.

Kolyat's muscles twitched, his fist still imbedded in the table's surface.

The agent looked back and forth between them, talons tapping nervously along the datapad in his hand. "I've uh, I've got those updates you asked for earlier, Miss Lawson."

Closing her eyes momentarily and pulling her hand to her chest as though to steady her racing heart, Oriana lowered herself to her seat once more and swallowed tightly. When she opened her eyes, her voice was steady, her face blank, and she reached a hand out expectantly to him. "Thanks, Jetal. I appreciate that."

The turian scratched at his cheek but stepped forward, handing the datapad to her. "I'm working on the numbers from Vhenma ward right now, and Kaz says we can see channels opening up from Argos Rho as soon as next week." His eyes glinted in excitement for a moment.

Oriana managed an appreciative smile. "That's great news."

Jetal glanced back to the still drell, noticing that he hadn't moved since he entered. With a respectful nod, he backed out of the room and waved his farewell. "I'll give you the next update within the hour then." And then the door slid shut after him.

Oriana smoothed her skirt out over her knees but didn't look up.

Silence reigned in the room once more.

And then the rustle of clothes caught her attention and she glanced up to see Kolyat pushing from the table and stalking over to the door.

He left, silently and stiffly.

Oriana reached for a datapad and found her hands trembling. She clamped them down in her lap.

He always left her shaking.