Chapter Fifteen

"Are either of you two hurt?"

"No," replies Shepard. "I incapacitated her in time, but the counselor could have been killed."

The Turian crouches over the moaning Asari. "Then we can thank the Spirits for that at least."

The words come out frank and genuine, and enthusiasm radiates from Talek as he stands up to face Shepard and Anderson. "It's lucky I was near enough to hear the shots," he says. "I'll bet the last thing you gentlemen need right now is a crowd of curious people, yes?"

"Now hold on," says Anderson, bridling. "She nearly shot us, I don't think it's us who should be worried! Attempted assassinations on human leaders, on the upper wards-"

"Of course, of course," says Talek. "Rest assured Counselor, I will personally see that this is fully investigated. On the Citadel, No Crime Goes Unpunished!"

Shepard can practically see the capital letters. He wonders which training manual cover that gem was printed on, and how old this sergeant is. Definitely younger than Garrus.

Talek paces to the other side of the room, speaking into his radio. Anderson leans towards Shepard, speaking softly. "Shepard, it might be a good idea to tell them about what happened before. If someone is targeting you, C-Sec could be a real asset."

Shepard shakes his head slightly. "Not yet. I need to work things out myself first before I bring anyone else into this. Talek seems like a decent enough sort though. He might be able to help us."

"It's your call, Shepard. Just remember you're not in this alone."

The men straighten up as Talek strides back towards them. "Alright," he says. "A few officers will come up here, quietly, to take her away. The restaurant won't be a problem; they'll do anything they can right now to keep this out of the media. In the meantime, if either one of you wants to come down to C-Sec with me, we can begin to sort this out."

"I've got to get back to my office," says Anderson. "Udina will go into conniptions if I'm any later. Keep me posted, Shepard. Sergeant." He glances around the door frame, then readjusts his shirt collar and strolls off nonchalantly.

"Commander?" asks Talek.

"Yeah, I'll come," says Shepard. "There are a few questions I need answered."

"Of course. Anything I can do."

…

Shepard and Talek walk down the silvery-gray, monotonously winding corridors of the citadel. The Sergeant's stride is purposeful, his spine held straight and eyes fixed ahead. Shepard's internal cynic gives the Turian two years at most until this is all changed. Nevertheless, Talek's enthusiasm might be helpful. Shepard reminds himself of his early days in the Alliance military, all sharp salutes and shiny breastplates just like you thought the army was supposed to be. Just like a knight in shining armor. That was until you saw what it really meant to be a soldier. That was until you saw how much protection that shiny, shiny breastplate was against incendiary bullets, until you felt your squad mate's blood hot against your face and you only thought was thank God it wasn't me. The knight in shining armor lasted until your boot stuck in something on the battlefield, and you squeezed your eyes shut and your head filled with silent screaming and you did not look down just pulled your boot away and tried for weeks to forget the sound it made coming loose. And the screaming went away after a while, but it had done its job. The polish was gone, and the glory was gone, and you just hoped to God you and your squad made it out alive…

Lost in thought, Shepard wanders into the office behind Talek, and then realizes where he is. He looks around the room slowly. The minuscule office space is sparsely furnished, a single desk scantly populated by a computer work station and several neatly arranged data pads.

Talek gently closes the door behind them, and turns to face Shepard. "Well, it looks like you're in trouble, Commander," he says. "Or at least someone would certainly like you to think so."

"There's something going on here, Sergeant," says Shepard. He wonders how much to reveal. If C-Sec were to get involved, whatever lead he might have could easily vanish under a heap of red tape, spectre status or no spectre status. He decides to play it safe for the time being. "There are some tapes that I would very much like to look at."

Talek's Mandibles twitch in a slight frown. "What kind of tapes?"

"Security tapes."

"Hmm..." Talek's eyes narrow in consideration. "Now that is, technicaly, against the law Commander. But you are a spectre, and if it's for the good of the Citadel, I suppose... Yes, alright, I can't see the harm in that."

Talek crosses over to the computer and keys in a few commands.

"Anywhere in particular you wanted to see, Commander?"

"Yes, I believe there was a disturbance in the upper wards, a week or so ago?"

"That's right, I was there myself. I was passing through the area when we got the call, so I ran up there and broke up the altercation. A fight between a Turian and a Volus, I believe. I heard the Volus tried to jump him with some kind of nerve targeting omni-tool patch. He didn't count on the Turian being a trained engineer as well, though."

"You said you 'heard' it?"

"Yes, by the time I got up there things had moved into a bit of a stalemate. I cuffed the Turian, and when the Volus came around the corner I got him unawares. Tidy enough, I suppose." Sergeant Talek steps back from the monitor. "There it is, Commander, right before the whole thing should have started."

The screen fills with the scene of a quiet, nondescript Citadel hallway. Barely visible at the far right of the camera's reach is a bit of door Shepard knows must belong to Anderson's office. He waits, and after a few seconds a squat figure moves onto the right side of the screen. The Volus walks slowly down the corridor, activating his omni tool. The tool glows bright orange, flinging electricity down the hall at an unseen target. Sparks erupt from the left, bouncing off the walls and painting the scene a flashing, lurid blue. The Volus backpedals, throwing up an arm, and a brilliant flash envelops the screen. Digital snow fills the computer monitor.

"Damn!" cries Talek. He strides to the workstation, his fingers fly over the keyboard, bringing up diagnostic windows. "Something blinded the camera! Must have been a tech pulse, the stuff they load into omni-tools is just ridiculous these days..." He examines the screen thoughtfully. "Yes, the camera's still recording at this point, but something's completely destroyed the retina. These cameras have very tricky balances, a large electronic pulse could definitely neutralize it."

"Quite a coincidence," says Shepard.

Talek leans back against the desk, crossing his arms. "Yes, it seems so, doesn't it? But why this hallway, if I may ask?"

Shepard bites the inside of his cheek, thinks about it, then responds. "Sergeant, what I tell you will stay within this office, am I clear?"

"Yes, of course," says Talek. His eyes seem to shine with eagerness. Shepard looks up. For just a second, the smallest of instants, there is something... wrong there. Not anger, almost... condescension? But no, Shepard looks deeper and the flicker is gone, Talek's face again showing nothing but keen enthusiasm. Shepard dismisses it. It's been too long a day already. He drops his gaze. "The counselor and I have probable cause to assume his office in the wards has been broken into. I had hoped to learn something from the security footage, but apparently that would have been too easy."

Talek seems to muse over this. "Well, they did a thorough job of it," he says at length. "There are no other cameras in that hallway, either."

Shepard sighs dejectedly. "And I suppose you didn't see anyone else, did you?"

Talek shakes his head. "No, I was wrapped up in the fight. It really didn't last too long. The only other person in the area was Ambassador Udina, so no luck there."

Shepard looks up sharply. "Udina was there?"

"Yes, he confronted me after the fight was over. Wanted to know what the meaning of this was, what C-Sec was doing to stop this kind of thing from happening, things of that nature. He was quite outraged."

"He's always outraged," mutters Shepard. But if Udina was in the area, was it possible? "Where did you see him coming from?"

"Down the hall a ways, I didn't notice him until he began shouting."

"Was he near the door to the office?" presses Shepard.

"I don't know." says Talek. "I suppose he must have been, why? You can't really suspect the human ambassador of-"

"Thank you, Sergeant. I don't know what I think right now." He has an idea though, but he doesn't voice it. Instead he says, "I may as well suspect everybody. You've been very helpful."

Shepard extends a hand. The Turian meets his eyes and Shepard finds himself searching for a hint of that oddness again, but nothing's there. Not so much as a flicker.

The sergeant takes his hand and shakes it firmly. "I wish you good luck, Commander. If you need anything from C-Sec, you have only to ask."

…

Legion crouches atop the table like a giant metal cat, its eye watching Tali listlessly. The repairs are over, and the two now sit in their respective corners of the room. Tali is reading something on her omni-tool. Legion knows it has no reason to linger, but that is reason enough. It explores this new unreasonable territory, and finds it to its liking.

And that brings up another question. Legion has long since calculated the exact dimensions of this room, the volumes of different gases present, the moisture content of the steel ceiling. It amused itself with pi for a little while, toyed with fourth-order polynomials, cast a cursory glance over calculus. All trains of thought lead one place though. Simple games of numbers provide no distraction for it, and its mind wanders away to the real problem, the problem all its cognitive powers can not decipher.

Shepard. Legion wants to be close to the man, wants to speak, to speak to him and have him answer. It wants to see him, wants to run a hand over his skin, feel the warmth of his body. It is such a terrible, unknown thing, roaming around, Legion can't tie it down to any part of its body. Nothing is broken as far as it can tell, yet it feels the spark of electricity, a gentle buzz coming from nowhere.

Legion wants to tear itself apart, to find the thing and cast it out of itself and go back to the way it was, a being of logic, a geth! These are not the thoughts of the geth. These thoughts are wrong and terrible and Legion can't let go of them. Shepard's face as Legion moved the scope of the rifle, the moment of recognition, the kick and the shattering head of the husk, the rush of feeling afterwards. Legion felt the same feeling after the crash, sitting next to John, all alone with the darkness pressing in.

Legion realizes with horror that it has used the man's first name. Names should be descriptions, first names are only used by organics out of familiarity. But it had felt familiar, hadn't it. The forest was large and foreign and frightening, but next to…

Legion struggles, can't bring itself to do it again.

..Next to Shepard, the forest had faded away, as if it didn't matter. The world had become slow, filled with Shepard's steady breathing and the flicker of the firelight on his face, peaceful in sleep. Everything had been good then. None of the confusion of Legion's thoughts had been present then, no frustratingly circular attempted rationalizations. Something was right then, something was true.

Legion tries to find it.

…

The crew has gone out. Well, most of them have, anyway. Miranda, Jacob, Jack, Thane, even Grunt left the ship earlier. Of course, that was what one did with shore leave, one went out and enjoyed oneself. Garrus couldn't bring himself to though, didn't see the point in pretending.

So here he was instead, locked in the main battery, sitting on the floor cleaning his rifle and listening to these sad-ass songs Shepard had given him. The records are ancient, from way before the contact war, but according to John the music is "timeless." Garrus supposes he can see that. Turian music was never really meant for entertainment, mostly just ceremonial stuff. It was John who introduced the whole concept of music for pleasure to Garrus, and he has to admit that the humans have accomplished something there.

Garrus has switched off his translator, and now he leans against the gunnery console and lets the sound wash over him. Even without understanding the words, the emotions are still clear, harmonizing with Garrus's own. He sighs and sets down the rifle. Tali hadn't left the ship with the others. Garrus feels a twisting in the pit of his stomach, and knows what he has to do, what he is going to do, and knowing it doesn't make it any easier.

…

Legion sees Shepard's face in its mind. It recalls the lines of his cheekbones, the set of his jaw, the way it shifts slightly when he is thinking. Legion remembers the weight of his body in its arms, and it is that moment, vivid in its memory, clearer than stored bits of electricity have a right to be, it is that moment that speaks to it of a deep, fundamental truth. Somewhere in that moment is the answer it has been missing.

It remembers the touch of their hands, a light, trepidatious brush at first, then as it closed, a warm pressure that went far beyond than the signals of touch to its brain. A thought swims to the top of its mind slowly, sluggishly, like a bubble on the crest of a wave, perfect and fragile, so thin as to be barely existent at all. It raises its head to Tali, and asks, "Tali'Zorah, what is love?"

…

The path sits clearly in his thoughts. He has chosen the wrong path, and only now, with the cold floor under him and the music seeping into his mind and the edge of the console digging into his back, only now does he realize why. It was fear.

The truth, like the first breath after two years deluded coma, sweeps in and the lies are exposed for just what they are. He never really left for her, it was never an act of strength to walk away. He walked away for fear, for fear of what he wanted so badly but was afraid to reach out and take. He was afraid of losing her, of hurting her, of not being who she deserved, and in his mad flight from the fears they had all come true. He can see that now, the mists clearing away from what should have been obvious all along.

You loved her, you dumb bastard, and you hurt her and now she'll never love you again. But that was too terrible a thought, to give in now and have her so near and never know. And he didn't know, just like he didn't know two years ago. Then, he had run from the question, had been afraid to know, afraid of the answer.

Garrus stands up. No more running.

…

Tali opens her mouth, and then closes it. Memories rise unbidden, of a time that seems long ago and far away. A warm, rough hand against hers. The cold, predatory blue eyes, burning warmly just for her. She remembers the feeling of his body, and she would wrap her arms around him and curse the suit between them. She remembers the excitement, and the joy, and the pain. The awful, all-encompassing cold of a planet with its star ripped away from it. The desperation, the knowing looks of others that said ahh, another pilgrimage romance, but she'll get over it. She remembers wanting to punch those looks straight down the faces they came from, wanting to scream, No, he is more than that! He won't leave me! She remembers not knowing who to scream it to, to the whole world, to herself.

She remembers the lack of taste, the way vibrance in things died and colors seemed to dim, and the universe was cold and hard as she knew it must be. The dreadful time after the blanket of denial had fallen away, with nothing between her and the vast, despondent, starless space that surrounded her.

She remembers the Hope, and how she tried savagely to push it down, drown it under sensibility, under pride, and how it wouldn't die. When she learned he was on the ship, and it was so close to the way things were before, as if maybe everything would just snap back together now.

And he had come to her, and she had turned him away. She didn't want to speak to him, didn't want those piercing blue eyes trying to see her through the visor, those eyes she vowed would never hurt her again.

She looks up, faces Legion, and smiles a little at how it should take a conversation with a geth to make her realize this. "Love, Legion? Love is when someone hurts you, they hurt you so bad you don't think you can go on, and you swear you don't ever want to see them again, and you try your hardest to let them go, but you can't. No matter how badly they hurt you, no matter how much you think you hate them, you'll never be able let them go, not completely. You can't." She smiles some more, closes her eyes. After a little while she hears the whir of Legion's joints, and the clack as it climbs down from the table. The door whooshes, and she is alone in the room.

She stays still, caught in a moment of peace, perfect clarity. She wonders if there is such a thing as fate.

A space of time goes by unmeasured, and Tali stands up in a sort of a dream and walks slowly to the door. She leans her helmet against the metal, caught once again by uncertainty. She knows now that she will go to him. It's all she can do. She's tried not to, done her best to forget, but she can't. All she wonders now is if it is too late. She has to know.

…

Garrus leans his forehead against the cool metal of the door. He doesn't know what he will say, doesn't know if there's anything he can say. The time as come, and he doesn't have any words at all. Maybe this is a stupid thing to do. Maybe it will only hurt more, to be rejected now. He knows it won't, though. Nothing could hurt more than not knowing. He will not make that mistake again. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

…

And the door opens. With a silent swish, and Tali gives a surprised yelp, and Garrus reaches out to steady himself as he falls, and they stagger backwards in an awkward embrace, and then they are wrapped around each other breathlessly tight, and it's still not tight enough, and the wall is there steadying them and glass presses against skin and white eyes meet blue ones.

"I got you."

…

Some while later the door swishes closed again, and the hallway is empty.

Artificial Intelligences don't smile to themselves. But then again, thinks EDI, doors don't open by themselves either.