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Rocks and Shoals

Part One: Run Aground Off the Reefs

Chapter Four: Hidden in Shade

"He didn't want to be that person. He didn't want to be that kind of ghost anymore. But he didn't think it'd be so hard to stop being angry, and resentful, and lost. Not until he met someone who made him feel so small and insignificant in his spite." - In a post-war galaxy, Kolyat and Oriana found each other when they went looking for themselves.

"The woman is absolutely infuriating," Kolyat growled, throwing his hands in the air as he stalked across Bailey's office. "Every time I offer a suggestion she has something to say about it. Every time I point out the flaws in her plan she gets defensive. She's dismissive, arrogant, stuck-up, know-it-all, self-righteous, annoying and…just…I swear I cannot be held responsible for anything I do if you send me back to 12 without approving my transfer request."

Bailey was trying his damnedest not to smile in amusement at the drell, Kolyat knew, because there was that telltale twitch to his lips and the subtle fold of his hands over each other on the desk. Kolyat shot a glare his mentor's way and stopped just before the desk, hands planting along the edge of it. "Don't you dare, old man. Don't you fucking dare."

Bailey shook his head and sighed. "You're not making this any easier, kid."

Kolyat scoffed and pushed roughly away from the desk, resuming his pacing. "You have no idea what I put up with."

Bailey allowed himself a soft smirk. "I can imagine."

"What does that mean?"

Another sigh, something of exhaustion in his voice, and Kolyat felt the first inkling of guilt clawing at his chest when he glanced at the commander from the corner of his eye. But then he thought of Oriana, of her constant nagging and her endless questions and that stupid, ridiculous look she got on her face when she was excited about something. There was absolutely nothing to be excited about, Kolyat thought. The project was going dismally. Sure, in the first couple weeks of their collaboration, they'd managed to set up the communications hub and the first processing center close to Precinct 12, but they hadn't even touched the plans for the remaining wards sections yet, and trying to round up personnel to man the stations was a mission in and of itself. Add to that the fact that he and Oriana could barely get anything done between the constant bickering, and he was ready to bash his head into the wall to make it end.

So no. Not guilty about ranting to Bailey.

"You know, you're not the nicest person this side of the galaxy, son." Bailey raised his brows meaningfully at Kolyat.

Like he expected the storm was coming. Like he fucking bet on the inevitable explosion. Well, Kolyat thought, he's not fucking getting it. So instead of the instinctive shout of denial that Kolyat barely managed to contain, he simply stilled, hands fisting at his sides.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

And he could have thrown something across the room with the look of surprised appreciation sliding over the commander's features. But he kept calm (barely) and managed to get out (barely) a seething breath of words. "I'm trying, Bailey."

At that, Bailey frowned. "Evidently, not hard enough."

"Do you even – "

"Here's the thing, Krios." Bailey braced his hands along the desk and raised himself up, leaning over it with an intimidating air. "I've been keeping a close eye on you and from the reports I'm getting from Townsend, you don't seem to be keeping up your end of this very well."

Kolyat spluttered, and he hated how unprepared he suddenly sounded, but he couldn't get much else out because Bailey was already walking out from behind his desk and continuing.

"From what I hear, you've been railing against her from the get-go. You've been rude, uncompromising, not to mention half-assing your commitment to this assignment, something I never would have thought you'd let happen, given how much you need this project to go well for your commission. You've been completely unprofessional and unwelcoming to our guest, Krios, to our damn guest, and you've reflected utterly dishonorably on C-Sec and what we represent. And I'm sick of it."

Kolyat's mouth clamped shut. His every breath left him at the words and he visibly deflated before the commander. Even the tension in his shoulders and his fists slowly began to ease out. It was that look. That look on Bailey's face that did him in.

Sharp, branding disappointment.

Kolyat could taste it in the air between them.

There was no anger, no resentment, no useless pride and self-inflated ego left in the drell. Just…a sore defeat brewing in his chest. He couldn't take the stern look in Bailey's eyes and so he averted his gaze, his eyes locking on the far corner of the room where the grey walls met and he could find some semblance of calm. Because he was anything but. And a lot of that had to do with the fact that he knew what a disaster he had been the last couple of weeks. And it hadn't even been the Lawson girl, not really. It had been this assignment. This project. This attempt at some measure of peace in a war-torn galaxy, a peace that Kolyat was sure he would never taste himself.

Because he had no family left to reunite with. And the way he longed for such a thing in the lone hours of night that he revealed to no one, well, he'd never admit to wanting this thing to go right. He'd never admit to needing it. Needing it in a very tragic, very desperate way, because some part of him – the part he hadn't even known existed until he was at his father's bedside and choking back tears that felt wrong for all the right reasons – that part of him knew what it meant to be alone in such a wide galaxy. To reach for a connection that just wasn't there. And when it was, in the end, when it was there, for just a moment, for just the hesitant span of a breath, it had slipped through his fingers like the white hospital sheet in his father's grip.

He hadn't been able to reclaim it since. Not even when he took that weathered prayer book home and sifted through the pages as though he'd find his father there. But not the father he knew. A different man. The man he had seen in his dreams and heard in his prayers and knew existed somewhere out there.

Because Kolyat existed too and wasn't that proof enough that the man he needed had been there at one point in his life? That he had been 'father' and 'husband' and 'loved one' at some point in this lost family history?

Hadn't that meant that Thane knew the meaning of home once?

Kolyat began to wonder how selfish of a fucker he had to be to sabotage this project because of his own unresolved issues.

He didn't want to be that person. He didn't want to be that kind of ghost anymore. But he didn't think it'd be so hard to stop being angry, and resentful, and lost.

Not until he met someone who made him feel so small and insignificant in his spite.

Not until Oriana Lawson.

Bailey sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then shook his head, gaze to the floor.

Kolyat hadn't felt so shitty in such a long time.

When Bailey looked back up, Kolyat was silent, patient, waiting. "What's going on, kid?" And the way he said it – so low, so cautious, a lace of concern underlying the sentiment – it made the words dry up in Kolyat's throat.

There were long moments where they just stared at each other, shoulders slumped, gazes open, nothing between them but air and the fragile realization that time couldn't heal all wounds.

"I…" Kolyat began, before stopping. Because what do you say to such a question? What reason, what explanation, was enough to encompass everything he had been feeling since the moment this assignment began? No. Before that. Before even Thane's death. Back to the moment he knew, as a young boy, that he was on his own. What words would ever be adequate enough to express his loss, his emptiness, his desperate, child-like need?

Bailey's hand came up to rest on his shoulder. "Talk to me, Kolyat."

The use of his name, his first, his intimate, his name – it broke him. Kolyat's head dropped down and he reached up to grasp Bailey's hand on his shoulder. "I don't know if I can do this, Bailey," he rasped. His hand shook where it gripped tightly to the commander's, and his whole body was racked with a single, powerful shudder.

He was just so tired.

Bailey reached for his other shoulder, holding the young drell before him. "That's bullshit," he said succinctly.

Kolyat's gaze shot up, the hint of a glare in his eyes, but mostly it was confusion.

Bailey cocked his head, his gaze intent on Kolyat's. "You're one of the most stubborn, hard-headed, cocky people I've ever met. You can't tell me that you're done in by this." His lips quirked up in the hint of a smirk.

It was almost enough to reassure him. But not quite.

Kolyat frowned. "It's just drudging up a lot of…a lot of shit I don't need right now, Bailey."

"It can't stay buried forever."

"Sure it can."

Bailey blew a breath through his pursed lips, hands sliding from the drell's shoulders. "It ain't healthy, kid, and you know that."

"It's gotten me this far." Kolyat shrugged as though disinterested. They both knew it was otherwise.

"That's not exactly a ringing recommendation for your shut-in attitude."

"It's not like I…" And then he stopped. Mulled it over a second. "Why did you give me this assignment?"

"I already told you why."

"No. The real reason."

Bailey rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes flitting to the far wall.

Kolyat pocketed his hands, gaze falling on his boots. They were scuffed and worn. He couldn't take his eyes from them. "Did you really think I could do it any good?" He was hard pressed to think he could do anything any good at this point, but what else was there? At least at C-Sec he had a roof over his head, a paycheck, people who knew him and accepted him, even a laugh here and there, bruised and rare as it was these days. But he never really deluded himself into thinking he made a difference here. Not the right kind, anyway. He'd only just managed to stop destroying everything he touched.

He was much like his father in that respect and some part of him always knew that.

Bailey offered up a hesitant smile. "I thought maybe it would do you some good."

Kolyat's only response was a grunt of acknowledgement, neither accepting or rebuking.

"I still do," the commander finished.

Kolyat finally looked up at him, drawing a deep breath in. "I'm not so sure."

Bailey's lips curved more surely. "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah." He hadn't even thought about his answer, he'd just said it. It was intrinsic, unquestionable.

"Then believe me when I tell you that you can do this."

It was like the quiet release of a dam in his chest, where everything came slowly trickling out, an even, steady stream of fear and relief and stark uncertainty, until it became a torrent, gushing violently forth, everything in him snapping into tight recollection.

He drew a sharp breath in, eyes suddenly glazed over, voice rasping. "'Kolyat,' he says, voice like coarse sand. He reaches for me. I shove him away. His hand recoils, dusked in shadow, his eyes, his face, everything I used to know still there, still darkened, hidden in shade. There is no light here. 'No,' I say. I have never meant it more."

Kolyat blinked back into realization, gaze raking over Bailey's concerned features. He clamped his mouth shut, a flicker of irritation tugging on his heart, eclipsed by the sharper, more insistent flutter of panic at his lapse.

Bailey cleared his throat and crossed his arms, leaning a hip on the edge of the desk. "You good?" He was no stranger to the drell's occasional memory trips but Kolyat was particular about keeping a lid on them. It was rare these days that Bailey would be privy to one.

"I'm fine," he snapped.

Bailey knew how to recognize his lies at this point, and Kolyat knew it too, but neither of them brought it to either's attention. There were several moments of awkward silence and unnerved shuffling from both ends. Bailey scratched at his cheek. Kolyat glared at the ground.

And then Bailey sighed once more, and Kolyat was beginning to wonder if the man ever made any other sound, or if maybe he wasn't the only one just completely and utterly exhausted on this station. "Look, Kolyat, I'm not going to transfer you off VicTrace. I put you there for a reason. And even though it might not look it now, I do think this is going to do you some good in the long run. I just need you to hold on until then, okay?"

His mouth dipping into a frown, Kolyat eyed the man. "And Lawson?"

"What about her?"

"We…don't exactly click." It was the nicest way he could think to say that they were at each other's throats.

"Find a way to make it work."

If it was possible, Kolyat's frown grew harsher. "Wow. That's stellar advice."

Bailey shrugged, and it should have made Kolyat angrier but he knew, truthfully, he couldn't really argue with the man. Not that he would ever admit to any of the shit Bailey called him on earlier.

"Have you even tried to get to know her, Krios? You two are a lot more alike than you might think."

Scoffing, Kolyat rocked back on his heels a moment, hands still pocketed in his trousers. "I highly doubt that."

Bailey gave him a look that verged on pensive if Kolyat thought too hard about it. "I think you'd be surprised to discover what that young lady's made it through, and what she's accomplished since."

That one caught his attention, but he wasn't about to satisfy the commander with any indication of his interest on the matter, so instead, he just nodded apathetically, eyes shifting toward the door in silent communication. "Well, I promise not to kill her in her sleep. Will that do?"

A soft chuckle escaped the commander. "For now," he said.

"Good."

"I'll hold you to it, you know."

Kolyat rolled his eyes. He was suddenly perturbed by the thought that he was doing said eye-rolling a hell of a lot more since Oriana Lawson's arrival. A contagious behavior, apparently. He inwardly cursed.

Bailey chuffed him on the shoulder once, nodding to the door. "Now get out of here. I've got actual work to do."

Kolyat pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah. I'll see ya, Bailey." He headed out.

"Stay sane, kid."

"No promises." The door slid shut behind him.

Oriana slumped into the chair across from Iranis' desk, her arms plopping onto the sides as an exhausted huff left her lips. "That's it. I'm done. I quit. Finito." She swiped a hand through the air as though to signify the sentiment.

Iranis chuckled at her from her position, elbows on her desk, chin in her palms, leaning toward Kaz while the turian perched on the edge of her desk. The asari pulled back somewhat from her previous conversation with the other agent and raised an inquisitive brow Oriana's way. "Talk to me, hon. What's going on?"

Oriana huffed and slouched further into her chair. Behind her, the bustle of Precinct 12 continued on in much the same way as it did every day – loudly, and a bit frantically.

Kaz cocked her head and looked down at the young woman. "Don't tell me the grid's down again."

Oriana flopped her head back along the edge of the seat's back cushion. "No," she offered on a sigh.

Iranis tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "Not enough volunteers for the posts?"

"Uh uh." Oriana waved a finger through the air with the answer.

Iranis smirked knowingly and Kaz glanced at her when the asari released a slow, humorless chuckle. "Let me guess. He's blue and surly."

"Bingo." Oriana's head lifted up in time to level her with an unamused glare.

Kaz released a slight clicking sound, shaking her head. "That boy's going to find himself face-down on the wrong side of a ward camp one of these days."

"Men," Iranis scoffed in mock disgust. She leaned back toward Kaz. "Am I right?" she asked with a secret smile, eyebrows waggling.

Kaz leaned down to the asari, face stoic. "You're never right." And then she slid off the desk at Iranis' pout.

"Aw, babe, you're too cruel."

Oriana chuckled at the couple and watched Kaz saunter off, waving over her shoulder. "I've got some reports to file. I'll catch you later," she called as she retreated.

Iranis smiled after her partner and then turned fully in her seat to face Oriana, arms folding over the surface of her desk. "Alright, what's the idiot done now?"

Oriana leaned forward to place her elbows on her knees and bury her face in her hands. "God, it's just impossible to get anything done with him," she groaned between her fingers.

Iranis sent the young woman a sympathetic look she couldn't see. "I know he can be a bit of an asshole but – "

"A bit?"

Iranis chuckled at that. "But you get used to it."

Oriana scoffed, peeking out through her fingers. "One shouldn't have to get used to assholery, Iri. Said asshole should just, I don't know, be a better person, maybe?"

The asari blinked at her, and then slowly began to nod in agreement, rubbing at her chin. "Okay, yeah, you know, I have to give you that one. You're right."

Oriana just groaned some more.

The asari folded her hands together atop the desk. "Look, Oriana, the thing is – and this is not a justification for his behavior or anything but – well, I guess part of his attitude is our fault. The crew, I mean. Because he was pretty messed up when Bailey took him under his wing – still is I guess – and we kind of just made allowances for so long, knowing that he needed our understanding and support if he was ever going to get to a healthier place and…I suppose we never got out of that mode." She offered an apologetic look, shoulders shrugging slightly. "He's like our communal son," she laughed.

Oriana just stared at her through her fingers, lips pressed tightly together, still smothered in her palm. Finally, after a long and slow inhale, she curled her fingers up under her chin and sighed. "I get that. I do. And my gripe isn't with you, Iri, or anyone from Precinct 12. You all have been beyond helpful in this venture, it's just…well…" Her eyes drifted from the asari as she trailed off.

Iranis nodded. "It's just time for him to do a little growing up, huh?"

"I mean, I wasn't going to say it but.." She allowed a playful smirk to pull at her features, even as they were marred by frustration.

Iranis shook her head and laughed. "Didn't need to. I guess it's been a long time coming, really." She mused softly to herself after the words, her face shifting into something Oriana would call affectionate or contemplative.

"I'm not one to talk though. I know I've been…difficult. It's just – " Oriana stopped and slunk back in the chair. "I just want this to go well so bad that I…it's taking over me. I didn't think it'd be this intensive but then I came off that transport and stepped onto the new and unimproved Citadel and met you and all these survivors and it just reminds me so much about all that's been lost that…that…I feel like I can't afford to get this thing wrong. The world deserves more. The galaxy deserves so much more than the share it's gotten these last few months and if I can do even a little – even just a miniscule, insignificant thing in this universe – as long as I can do it then, well, I just have to. There's too much ill in the galaxy not to. I just…I feel like all I'm doing is losing. Just…not even making a dent. And it hurts to think of how absolutely shit this whole thing might have been from the start."

They sat quietly for several moments while Oriana reined in her breathing and stared at her lap. She hadn't meant to drop this on the asari when she came to her desk with the intention of escaping the confines of her conference room turned headquarters. She had only wanted a quiet moment of peace. Some silence in the noise of life.

Everything was just so…so beyond repair at this point. And she couldn't even blame the drell anymore. Sure, he had been the most vocal dissenter, and a royal pain in her ass, but truthfully, she felt the echoes of his words and his frustration and his apathy everywhere she went on the Citadel. It was this defeatist attitude that had infected everyone aboard. Even Bailey, to a degree. Even Townsend and Iranis and Kaz and, shit, even her if she thought too long about it. She was just so tired. And weren't they all? Weren't they all just worn and beaten and done with the war? No one had ever told them how hard it would be to pick up the pieces. And though some part of her knew that, the larger part – the needful, aching part of her that couldn't live in a universe that just gave up – that part of her had forged through blindly. Idealistic. Stubborn. A gleaming future and a smile that felt whole once more, lying just in wait over the horizon of the aftermath. If she could only make it, she knew – she knew – that all would be right again.

Her parents – warm and naïve and blameless – they were gone. And there was no coming back from that. Some lives will always be lost. Some things never come back.

And God, how she missed Miranda.

Her last tie to this existence. The reason she held so strongly to these ideals, why she couldn't give up on the thought that all these people really need, all they search for in the night and call for in the day, all they bleed for, is a hand to hold. An arm around their shoulder. A knowing touch. A familiar face.

Someone to whisper against their cheek "I'm here" and fucking mean it. And fucking stay.

It was such a simple, silly thing.

But it was all she had.

"Don't give up on this project, Oriana."

Iranis' voice caught her attention and she swung an unsettled gaze her way.

The asari smiled, slow and easy and with a lop-sided twist of the lips that reminded her so much of her mother that she very nearly gripped at her chest to stop the hammering of her heart. "It means something. To a lot of us. Please don't ever think it doesn't."

Oriana didn't know how to answer that, at least, not in any way she thought she should – or would be able to. So she simply bit her lip and nodded, hands linking together over her lap where her gaze drifted down again.

There was a sigh from across the desk. "I'll have a talk with our boy Krios."

"No!" Oriana near-yelped, head snapping up. "No," she repeated, calmer, hands smoothing over her thighs. "It's not – don't…don't worry about it." She sagged into her cushion. Even just talking about him exhausted her. "He's not going to respond unless I'm the one to approach him. I don't want him scolded like a child, I want to talk with him like an adult." She paused, and then blew an exasperated breath through her lips. "That is, if he even knows the meaning of the term."

Iranis couldn't help her small chuckle at that. "Is there anything I can do on my end?"

Oriana mused on the offer for a moment, but eventually, she shrugged and shook her head, knowing that the stubborn dolt would only resent her more if she got anyone else involved in their spat. Sighing, Oriana pushed from the seat and stood. "I'm sorry for dropping this on you like this, Iri, but thanks for letting me vent."

"Of course."

She chucked a thumb behind her toward the conference room that had served as her headquarters for the last few weeks. "Well, I've got to get back to it before Krios finishes up with Bailey."

Iranis cocked a brow at her mention. "The kid's with Bailey?"

Oriana stopped mid-turn to look back at Precinct 12's second in command. "Yeah, he's getting my personnel roster approved."

"Well, I'm sure the boss will straighten him out a bit. Not to worry." She ended her words on a wink and waved her farewell.

Oriana offered a meager smile as she left, but couldn't keep the look of apprehension from crossing her features. Luckily, Iranis was already moving to her terminal and unaware of Oriana's newfound anxiety.

Bailey.

The man had been a damn godsend since this whole thing started. She knew half of what she put into practice here on the Citadel wouldn't even be possible without the man's help. But then, she also knew about the close bond between him and Kolyat. And damn if she wasn't nervous about that. Because she needed Bailey as an ally in this. And she hoped to God that he wasn't in that office right now, actually pandering to the little shit, because she couldn't take it if he was.

Rubbing a hand down her face, Oriana sighed and stalked into the conference room, door sliding shut behind her.

None of this was going the way she planned. Not since the moment she stepped foot on the Citadel, or rather, what was left of the Citadel. Because everything had changed. What she remembered from her last time here (white walls and the faint scent of burned ozone, a sense of safety, open space, smiles) was suddenly gone, suddenly lost in the myriad of gaunt faces and ash-lined alleys. And yet, she had still hoped, still expected even, that the Citadel would remain the last untouched vestige of life before the Reapers. And how wrong she was. Kolyat's words rang endlessly in her head.

"This is it. This is all that's left from the war. And it's all we've got right now."

Such a stupid dream.

Oriana shook her head, leaning back against the closed door, fists clenching at her sides and tears springing unbidden to her shut lids.

Maybe she was just a stupid girl.

She breathed deep, in then out. Once more. She opened her eyes.

She realized she could live with being a stupid girl.

Just not a gutless one.