Chapter 8 is here! And now I'm off to bed.
Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.
"Is that a threat?" Shepard challenged, eyes flickering to the panel beside the door. They had arrived at the top floor, the parking garage she'd driven into when she arrived. Instead of relief, however, a note of panic seeped into her; it had been empty before, and if things went south—which might very well be the case here— there would be no one to call for help.
"I'm not the one you should be worried about," he told her, holding her gaze momentarily.
Shepard wasn't convinced. The alcohol may have affected her earlier judgment, but there was something strangely sobering about knowing your life was in immediate danger. Either from this stranger or whatever was waiting outside.
"Who exactly is after me?"She asked impatiently.
He seems to be stifling a smile. "I'm honestly surprised no one bothered to tell you."
She shook her head, clearly displeased. "People have a hard time letting me know anything these days."
"It's mercenaries, mostly. You must have pissed the wrong person off, you're worth an incredible sum," he said, "and now that they know you're in the Citadel the opportunity is too good to pass up."
She fell silent, considering his words. Further than that, she considered the man standing in front of her. He didn't seem to be interested in harming her, and the only thing that she had to be pissed off about was that he had dry humped her in an elevator before telling her why he had lured her away from the bar. Still, she would approach the situation with caution.
"I'm Ferox, by the way," he added, with a small flick of his mandibles. He allowed the doors to open without further delay.
Shepard stepped out of the elevator with him, "It's empty," she said, noting that they were the only ones here. "You said something about mercs?" she said skeptically, feeling a chill from the open sky. She stopped a few steps away from the elevator, more than ready to take it back down.
"Still don't trust me?" he asked, though he didn't seem the least bit offended. She figured it took more than admitting her distrust to wipe the complacency off his face.
She shook her head, her face grim. "No reason to. "
"I will get you out of here in one piece," he assured, his open hand held out for her to take. It was a strange gesture, coming from him. "As it is, I doubt you could stand much of a chance against anyone." That last part was painfully accurate.
"You're saying I don't have much of a choice?" she asked.
He grinned, "You always have a choice."
Shepard sighed, too drunk and too tired to deal with this sort of crisis. Any hope she'd had of making the best of a shitty night had long been shot dead, and she figured she had nothing to lose at this point. Except maybe her life.
Gingerly, she took his hand. If he was willing to get her out of here, maybe she could spare a small particle of trust. She wasn't letting her guard down, though. Not if she could help it.
His arm curled around her waist, and she tentatively accepted the layer of heat against her skin. It was oddly comforting, being this close to his body. This was a different closeness—nothing like the needing, urgent clashing of their bodies back on the elevator—this was support, protection. And even if she would later deny it, she liked it. Shepard wasn't sure she liked him—she'd known men like him before, too bold and too cocky for their own good. They'd never been her type.
His grip on her loosened as they got to the skycar, "Where are you staying?" he asked, "I can drive you there."
"I'll be fine," she replied flatly. Then, looking up at him, "Why are you doing this?"
"I said I'd get you out of here, didn't I?"
"There has to be something else," she said, doubt swimming in her eyes.
"Turians," he said pragmatically, and with just a little bit of smugness, "are big on commitment."
Five years ago she would have believed it. Now it seemed like some half-assed attempt at an explanation. "Forget it," she said, peeved. He gave her a mild look of inquiry as she turned away from him, opening the driver's side door.
Her attention was instantly drawn to the blinking cylinder on the seat of the car.
"Shi—"
At first, she thought it was the blast that threw her backwards onto the hard ground. Looking up, however, and finding his face level with hers— his body shielding her from the explosion—she realized he'd pulled her away at the last second.
Her heart was racing, and she was certain at this proximity he could hear it, but she was unharmed. Roughly, she was lifted to her feet, pushed against the metal siding of another vehicle.
"Stay down," he ordered.
The parking garage was filled with the roar of bullets flying in their direction, ricocheting against the side of the vehicle.
"Wasn't planning on throwing myself into the line of fire," she retorted.
Ferox gave a short laugh. "Just making sure," he said, "I've seen how impulsive you can be." His eyes trailed down and he flashed his teeth in a grin, "You're showing, by the way."
He cupped his hands over his bony chest, as if she needed any more initiative to realize that the dress—the dress she hated more than anything in the world—had malfunctioned in a particularly horrifying way. She quickly covered herself, face burning and dignity tattered.
"You're a jerk, you know that?"
He shrugged, "I'd believe you if I hadn't just saved your life."
"How many are there?" she asked after a long pause. She couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness, wishing for a rifle and some armor instead of the flimsy, draped garment she was wearing right now. They were both obviously unarmed, but as it turned out, Ferox was a perfectly capable biotic. The Commander in her was impressed by his battle prowess—his taste for strategy over raw power. He carefully picked his targets, increasing the effectiveness of his attacks.
"Six," he answered, "now down to two."
"Think we can make it?" She tried not to sound too hopeful.
He shook his head, "No, they're too well equipped. One's an asari," his mandible twitched, "bet she's good looking."
She rolled her eyes, "Focus."
He chuckled, "Copy that."
As soon as he saw a break in their assault, he used a shockwave to propel a row of cars into their line of sight, effectively creating a distraction.
"Not bad," she called, as she hastily climbed into the seat of a nearby vehicle. They were in the air before the doors sealed completely.
He quickly changed gears and they propelled forward, but not before a blast sent them rolling sideways. The vehicle stumbled in midair, Ferox barely maintaining control. It was a last ditch effort to keep them—her—from escaping. Ferox quickly assured her that they wouldn't attempt to kill her—she was more valuable alive. She almost asked what part of that was supposed to make her feel better.
Shepard held tight to her seat, "What's the damage?" she asked, looking behind them. Smoke spiraled from the rear. Not necessarily a good thing, but at least they were no longer being shot at.
And they were away from the parking garage now.
"Sensors are screwed," he replied, "but we'll make it far enough for C-sec to get to us."
He added, with a chuckle, "They really want you, Shepard."
She nodded, slowly. "Yeah…" she looked him over, at the faint apprehension in his eyes. He somehow managed to let his mandibles slack carelessly, seeming completely at ease despite the situation. She turned her attention to the window, listening to the odd mechanical glitches behind them, where the blast had knocked a few things loose. It was a wonder they were still in midair. She allowed herself to relax, to finally allow the fatigue to show on her slumped shoulders.
Shepard frowned as she felt something running down her left side, the liquid warmth pooling on her lap. Alarmed, she pressed her palm over the spot and gasped when her hand came up covered in blood. She looked down and found the front of her dress smeared with it. How had she not noticed her injury? Adrenaline, perhaps? She groaned as her vision blurred, the faint ringing in her ears that she had attributed to the grenade going off at such a close proximity now increased to a deafening tone.
"…Shepard."
It was Ferox, but his voice was distorted and there was so much blood coming from the gaping wound at her side that she vaguely toyed with the idea of bleeding out in the seat, in front of this complete stranger. Garrus' face flashed across her mind. What would he think of losing her for good this time?
And then she blinked and everything was back to normal. The blood was gone, the ringing in her ears muted. She was left in her seat, breathless, with a layer of sweat across her forehead.
Ferox was looking at her intently, the purest expression of worry on his features. The car was still. They had landed and she hadn't even noticed.
She pushed herself back against the seat, shaking, gasping. Her hands were still pressed against the vanished wound, and she quickly removed them.
"It's okay," she said softly, after a tense moment of silence. But it wasn't. Nothing was further from 'okay' than this. The questions formulating behind his eyes were apparent, but he didn't voice them. At least not yet.
"C-sec will be here soon," he told her, keeping a close eye on their surroundings in case they had been followed. It was unlikely but not impossible. "They've just received our coordinates."
"…Good," she breathed, now completely exhausted. She needed this night to be over.
Shepard doesn't understand why they let him escort her back to her quarters, or even why he volunteered in the first place. "Former C-sec," he tells her when she looks like she's about to ask. He flashes a grin, "Guess that makes me trustworthy."
They neared her door, and she stopped short of entering. "You know, you could have just told me I was in danger. You didn't have to…" she trailed off, remembering the elevator, "do all that," she added quietly.
He laughed, "It wouldn't have been nearly as memorable. Besides, I heard you were partial to my species."
She shook her head, about to say something to the effect of it not being his business whom she was partial to, but the gravity in his eyes silenced her. It was that seriousness about him that she found unusual, "Are you planning on telling me what happened back there?" Her freak-out on the skycar hadn't been forgotten, much to her displeasure.
"Nothing happened," she answered evenly. It was a blatant lie, but her tone sufficed to say that she was done talking. He passed her a look of mild dismay, but he eventually twisted it into a wry smile.
"Get some rest," he said, nodding towards the room. "And for your own sake, don't be so reckless, I might not always be there to get you out of trouble."
"I'm not making any promises," she replied, "but thank you."
His omnitool beeps before he is out of the building.
Garrus.
"What happened? Is she alright?" He sounds tense, and Ferox can picture him pacing as he places the call.
"Yeah," he replies. "Nice job letting her know she has a bounty on her head by the way, very commendable."
Ferox can hear him exhale through the speaker, "Things…got a little complicated. Good work on keeping her safe. I owe you one."
He is serious for a moment, "If I hadn't been there—"
"I know." Garrus says dejectedly.
"Then don't let her out of your sight, Vakarian. I shouldn't be doing your job for you."
"I'll go see her now."
"She's exhausted," he informs him, his voice heavy with implications, "it was a long night for the both of us, I wore her out completely."
The alarm in Garrus' voice is priceless, "Ferox. Please tell me you didn't…"
"I did say I did your job for you," he says, invariably pleased with himself, "and I was very thorough."