In case you all were wondering, because I know everyone definitely cares about how successfully I can procrastinate with school work, I finally understand ME Kink Meme. Finally. It's everything I hoped and dreamed it would be. Now let's answer a couple of questions!
Are you going to be going into detail about these two years that Shepard is gone? Yes, although I won't be detailing ALL of it. Just the parts that matter to this story, which is actually the parts towards the end of the 2 years. There are some other very good fics about Garrus's squad so if you're curious, I suggest looking for those if you want a complete story arch just about him and his teammates.
Will there be hybrid babies? I…I'm not sure. That is a very good question. I don't think so for this particular story, but it is a possibility for some of my others that I have in the works.
As always, thank you to everyone that favorites, follows, reviews, and PMs. There is no story without anyone to write for. So while I lose myself for a bit in the wonderland that is the kink meme, enjoy this next chapter.
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Garrus absolutely, undeniably, unmistakably hated Sidonis. While it was true that some part of him deep down in his heart knew that he loved the brash turian like his own brother, the fact of the matter remained that Lantar Sidonis broke the rule. They had made a pact when forming their ridiculous entourage to never fall for a woman, or allow their brethren to do so. It was an easy way for Garrus to keep his romantic interests to himself and not have to worry about his crew butting in as they always proved to do. Other purposes were served of course, the most obvious being that the members of their team were less likely to be distracted from their righteous duties. Protecting innocents from all forms of malicious exploitation was hard enough without amorous thoughts clouding their better judgment.
Sidonis eyed his brother with a sneaky, slanted gaze. He was a demon; the demon-spirit of love, come to deliver his dear teammate into the insufferable arms of romantic debauchery…or something like that. Garrus could only roll his eyes.
"For the last time, Sidonis. I will not go on this date." His answer was firm and steady. Hands moved in agreement with a fluid motion across his trusted rifle, cleaning its ornate grooves and polishing the surface. Truth be told, this was Garrus's way of avoiding eye contact with the blasted turian in front of him. That nincompoop had strolled right into the room, bouquet and note in hand, loudly announcing that the blind date was successfully booked and that Garrus was going to be late if he didn't leave right that moment. A completely slack jaw was the only response to that unwarranted intrusion, causing Sidonis to only gain momentum. His mandibles remained stretched on his face, showing off the bright sheen of teeth in the damndest smile any turian ever gave. He tiptoed gently towards his gloomy figurehead, waving the bouquet lightly in the air and wiping the strong perfume from the note all over Garrus's face.
"Ftop it Phidoniph." A rumble of laughter erupted from the chipper male but he did as he was told. With a light 'humph' he sat next to the ever serious Vakarian. The silence between them grew stale and awkward, though it was still not enough to remove the grin from Lantar's wily face.
"I am leaving right this second…"Garrus started as he proceeded to dismantle the now perfectly gleaming weapon. "…just not somewhere you want me to go." The light in the room seemed to dim with the drooping face of Garrus's friend. Hell, the flowers even seemed to wilt a little.
"You promised us you wouldn't ever go back there. Do you want another incident?" Sidonis's previously happy voice was now a firm growl, ringing dangerously close to the same frequency as his father. Garrus was annoyed. He let it show with the exaggerated motions of his arms when tossing various pieces of equipment into his bag. No answer was given, as it seemed none was needed. They both knew with the silence that followed what the response would be. Sidonis stood and threw the flowers into the trash bin. When he reached the door he paused and opened his mouth to speak. Garrus waited, mentally screaming at his friend to wait, don't go, please stop me from leaving! But the pleading never came; the friend turned his back to the room and left without another word.
.vVv.
Sidonis paced up and down the kitchen. Weaver was concerned that he would wear tracks into the flooring if he didn't stop. He had to say something. Anything. Just a word, one word. One word to make Lantar discontinue that incessant step, step, step. Maybe if he said something to someone else. Why was everyone so quiet, anyway? Garrus was gone, but that was normal now and everyone should be used to it. Weaver was used to it, so the others should be too. But they weren't. Aren't. Everyone around him sat, still as stones. Everyone except for Sidonis.
"Weaver!" The woman's voice was loud, but crystal clear. Weaver took in a breath, and relaxed his eyes. He felt the woman seat herself at his right and place a gentle hand on his tensed arm. She rubbed softly and the strain went away, the tension easing out of his temples. He breathed out and opened his eyes to rest on his partner.
"Melenis, why are you all so tense as well?" Weaver was worried for his friends. He could see her initial confusion from her blue brows curling together at the middle in that cute way. Then her mouth twitched and pursed together. This meant she was thinking. Her eyebrows raised and rested in their naturally arched state; that meant a lightbulb.
"We are tense because of Garrus. Lantar only paces when he is stressed. And usually, he is only ever stressed when Garrus doesn't listen to him." The asari woman concluded from the ever continuous pacing of their teammate. Sidonis didn't stop even while he snapped at them.
"How can you all just sit here?!" Weaver watched as the turian angrily threw his arms in the air. That meant frustration. Sidonis continued on the same rant he always made when Garrus left the stronghold. It wasn't easy for Sidonis or the team to watch their leader break as he did, but there was nothing they could do but try to distract him from his ghosts while he was home. Melenis reached for Weaver's hand. He could feel her anxiety building. He could feel everyone's uneasiness.
He decided Sidonis should go. "Sidonis. You should find him. Bring him back. Nothing feels right about this day." He squeezed Melenis's hand for comfort as they both watched the turian leave hastily after grabbing his bag. Now all they had to do was wait.
.vVv.
Garrus trudged sloppily out of a dirty bathroom and into the nearest seat he could find. It was a booth tucked in to the corner of the bar, away from the noise and the yelling, but still close enough to have it as a nice background. When he was home, it was too quiet for him. Ironic though, that the silence in his life was always the loudest. It was loud enough to drown out every other sound. Music didn't help, his mind would simply be overtaken and he would zone himself out in thought. That was why he needed to leave; because staying in the stronghold kept him feeling guilty. Guilty for dragging those poor sods down with him, guilty for making them love him and then letting them down, and most of all guilty for not saving Shepard.
His fists balled and he dropped his head to rest on the table. Garrus was too drunk to be changing the orientation of his equilibrium though, and the dizziness that followed almost made him hurl again. But he persisted, not wanting to look anywhere else except to the darkness of his own shadow on the table. This wasn't life. Drinking by day and murdering by night. That's what he did, he murdered. Mercenaries, criminals, traitors, scum. They all deserved it, but is this what Shepard would have done? Would she feel the same as he did, in that they needed only death to atone for their sins?
Beyond the suffocating silence in his guilty conscience, he felt a light breeze from a figure across from him. Someone had seated themselves at his table, but he didn't care. His eyes stayed shut while his mind continued to race through thought after thought, each one berating and belittling him for his actions. And what of his teammates? They had become his family, as it now felt like Omega was his home world before Palaven. Since when did he care so little that it mattered not how he left them alone each day? His team told him always that he did good work, that he deserved to be their leader and they would follow him into the depths of hell. But did they even realize he was already there?
The clinking of multiple glasses bounded slowly to his ears, as if the sound was echoing through water. He needed to attempt moving his head up to see what the commotion was about. Garrus came to this accursed place to be alone with his thoughts, so it was a problem that someone deemed it necessary to invade his personal space.
He was annoyed to say the least. "I don't remember asking for an escort." He drawled out when he laid eyes on his visitor. It was a female turian, almost regal looking with her elaborate facial markings. Most likely from a Heliad clan. They were famous for using many different colors on their faces in honor of their dying star, which of course shined brightly in a prismatic fashion. Hers were no different, they almost seemed neon in the dim lighting of the bar. Then again, Garrus was extremely drunk. He could be hallucinating for all he knew. Proving him wrong (unless he was imagining the glasses as well), the woman slid one of the drinks over to him. He smelled it; water. Who does she think she is?
"Just drink it. I'd have thought you were dead if not for your terrible body odor." Great, not only is she a busy-body, she's also a comedian. Either that or awfully honest. Neither of those were appealing to him at the moment. But drunken stupidity was realized in him when he discovered how thirsty he was. He set the glass back down and sank into the back of the metal chair. Eyes closed and stomach no longer queasy, he was able to think about the situation.
First things first. "If you aren't an escort…I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted. You can repay me by ordering a drink for me. It's been quite a while since I've been as wrecked as you, and I've had a rough week." She flicked out her left mandible in a sly smirk. Garrus shifted to sit up a little taller. She was pretty, in a unique way. Her markings were definitely a bit much for his taste, but it helped pronounce her features and bones. Her neck was slim and..sparkly? Then he remembered his mother used to wear a special type of lotion that smelled of lilacs and glinted with small flecks of glitter in the sunlight. That was different though, his mother's sheen made her appear a powerful goddess while this woman's sparkle made her look exotic and perhaps a bit fearless. 'Mischevious' he settled with while clearing his throat.
"Why is it that I'm always interrupted in grimy bars by strange women in combat suits?"
"Oh, was I interrupting you? A midday meditation session. I should try that sometime to ease the stress of battle."
Okay, so she was a little funny. But Garrus wasn't in the mood for flirting, and he was drunk. The chances of her having even a fraction of her comedic nature outside of a bar was low. He waved down a waiter and motioned for the woman to order her choice. It was the polite thing to do. Interesting how he did not plan on being polite when he first arrived.
Garrus stared hard at her glittery skin and wondered what fragrance this one might be sporting. "You going to tell me your name, or will I have to make something up?" He grinned when she chuckled and relaxed his shoulders. He was in.
Eyes amused, she reached out a hand over the table to him. "My name is Neeva. But what would you have called me instead?"
A sly smirk found its way onto Garrus's face before he took a gamble with his answer. "Honestly, I would have probably continued to refer to you as an escort."
"That's rather rude to say to someone who might have saved your life. A little hydration goes a long way."
"Maybe that was the idea when I didn't order any water with my liquor." He stopped. Carrying baggage doesn't make you popular, so why was he revealing so much? His eyes darted to her chest plate.
"Like what you see?" She was watching him carefully when he made eye contact again. Garrus didn't feel the slightest bit ashamed. He was drunk, and he needed an outlet. Looks like he found his prey.
They had barely slipped out the back door without ravaging each other completely. Garrus pushed Neeva's slender body into the wall outside. With barely any light to see, he had to depend on mostly feeling and smell to find her. But once his fingers reached the tiny waist under her voluptuous chest he made sure not to let go. It didn't seem like Neeva minded it either because with her back against the wall, she opened her body up to him as she stretched her arms to her sides. Garrus filled the spaces in between with hands moving up and down along her stomach while his teeth set to work on harshly biting and tasting the sparkling flesh underneath pronounced mandibles. He felt a familiar vibration from the depths of her chest and throat and lost himself to primal instinct on the similar form.
She was his kind, and he didn't need to think for this. Everything he did to her was purely muscle memory from lovers past, but it worked on the both of them. While the woman writhed and hummed from his savory touches, his own subvocals growled with lust. A few buttons that fastened her trousers together were easily ripped apart and the pieces of leg armor that they in turn held were forgotten on the dirty ground. With a mind full of only want and need and hunger, Garrus penetrated her quickly and deeply. Neeva cried out with a full flurry of vocals and clawed at his shoulder plates for more. He felt as if he couldn't thrust hard enough. His hips jerked to move his own throbbing member further and further inside of her until he was completely buried. He could stay inside for only a moment before needing to back out and push in hard again for the friction. His prey's body was completely at his mercy, and he realized that he loved and hated it.
Loved it because he needed this. Garrus had needed some form of unhindered release. Finding a Turian woman was perfect. But he hated it because each thrust into her brought with it a mix of pain and pleasure. The seared heart that he had closed off was being stabbed, over and over, seemingly crying out in the form of guilty twinges. Before long, he had pushed his face into the crook of Neeva's neck and bit down on her shoulder while he continued to force pleasure onto his mangled soul. She was purring and moaning in ecstasy from the bite, but he didn't do it for her. He wanted to cry; wanted to shove this strange creature off of him and scream into her face that she wasn't Shepard. The only woman he had wanted to be with was Shepard. She was the only woman he will have ever truly bonded with, and here he is, betraying that bond for another one night stand.
Garrus released his jaw from the woman's neck as he bit his own tongue to stop from yelling something crazy. In a few more thrusts, he growled deeply and pulled himself away from her at the last second. His throbbing cock shot out months of pent up anger and despair, guilt and anguish. The ground below the pair was covered in both party's liquids, mocking him and reminding him of his weakness. Garrus reached over for Neeva's shin guards. When she grabbed them from his limp hands, he left her alone in the alleyway, staring after his shrinking figure.
.vVv.
Sidonis was lost. Of course he would never admit it though, not even to himself. So he pressed on diligently in the direction he thought to be correct. Feeling less and less confident in his inner compass, he began to slow his pace. Every corner was approached with caution before being taken as slowly as possible. Checking a multitude of paths at crossroads became standard practice, in spite of it being a waste of time. Sidonis had absolutely no idea which way Garrus had taken him so long ago. It had been weeks since he accompanied his partner to see just where he had been spending his time. When he discovered it was a tattered and dinghy bar, he had been furious and left in a rush only to arrive back home. Feeling guilty for leaving his friend wasn't enough, as he had forgotten the way there in his rage. Now, he wasn't angry; he was just worried.
Sidonis always knew in his mind that Garrus had been treading on a fine line centered right between moving on, or holding on. He didn't need the broken turian to describe to him what it felt like; he empathized through experience, the most effective way to understand. But simply telling him that wasn't enough. Although these days it seemed there wasn't anything that could help him now. Garrus had begun throwing himself into his work. When he wasn't planning counterattacks for merc hits in residential districts, he was leading an infiltration unit with part of the squad, ordering a few of them to create blocks and holds to slow down illegal trafficking. And when it wasn't work, it was drinking.
The crew knew his schedules, therefore refused to give up on him. They had all gotten together and planned a trip for the whole squad after pay day. It was the perfect chance to remove Garrus from the poisonous world they seemed stuck in. He could have a week to relax, sleep, and perhaps feel happy, if only for a short while. But he had discovered their secret in an unsavory situation. Sidonis had been the one to let it slip during an argument. He had called Garrus inconsiderate and selfish. The fact that the only things their crew ever heard from their leader anymore was not words of encouragement, but words of disappointment were more than enough justification. There was always something that could have been done better. So Sidonis was mad, but could he be blamed?
He had spat out a few distasteful words before branding him a rotten drill seargant.
"All we want to ever do is make you happy! We give and give everything we have for you, and still you want more. Butler has a wife and daughter who he barely has time to see anymore since you've had us bending over backwards to fight an unwinnable war. You think Omega's gravity wells are powered by your own fresh need for justice? What kind of justice is it then that we are putting our shares towards a vacation for you, and you tell us that we should spend our money on furthering our exploits of mercenaries?"
Sidonis blinked and inwardly cringed as the flashbacks played on. He didn't regret his words, but he regretted laying sight to Garrus's face. As he rounded another unknown corner he saw with his memory's eye, his friend's reaction. Dull eyes grew darker, and drawn mandibles pulled tightly against a tense jaw.
"We don't have time for vacations, Sidonis. All of you; we need to make big moves now that we have the funds to do so. For almost two years now, we've been taking part in a child's game with these merc idiots. If we can hit them where it counts, it can all be over. Innocent people won't have to die, and before long, each criminal will pay. No more red tape to stop us. No more waiting around."
"So that's it." Sidonis drew in a breath, too tired now to pursue frustration. "After all of that, you don't even give an apology. What good is it to force your hand when you're outnumbered? You'll only come out on the losing end after you've lost everyone close to you, Garrus. And maybe then you'll learn."
In a flash, Sidonis awoke from his daydream by smacking into a very daunting and angry looking batarian. He smelled of a crude mixture of sulfur and liquor and Sidonis would have gagged from it if he hadn't been scared witless. The batarian wasn't alone, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that the batarian wasn't some ordinary drunkard; he was Blue Suns.
The batarian grabbed for the stunned Sidonis, lifting him easily onto his feet and slamming him against the wall. "Look what fell into my lap boys. It's like uhh…Rick what's that one day where you idiots get presents and shit?" All four eyes on the batarian's head shifted towards the only human male in the group for a second in search of an answer. When they fell back on Sidonis they were aglow with a dark reddish hue. Or was it that neon sign overhead? Whatever cast such an eerie light on him, it was unnerving to say the least.
"Brass, what in the hell are you on about…you mean Christmas?"
"Yeah! It's like Christmas today." The alien's grip on Sidonis's neck tightened, closing the space on his neck and cutting off access to precious oxygen. Brass then leaned uncomfortably close to his victim's face and whispered, "It's like Christmas because I know exactly who you are, and you're about to be a gift for the boss."
.vVv.
Has Archangel even done anything significant?
The question repeated itself over and over in Garrus's dizzy head until he finally stopped. His feet had carried him to a lookout, a private over hang with a perfectly unobstructed view of Omega's mining towers. The railing was the perfect height for a drunkard to lean on; just low enough to comfortably rest arms on and just high enough to prevent a fall. The view was breathtaking, but he found himself in a mournful state. Bittersweet memories of the first night he met his one love on the Citadel. She had been glowing with beauty and tipsy with too much alcohol, but beautiful none the less. That was the night that he had changed his way of thinking.
Before he met her, he hadn't been a being of understanding in the interspecies relationships that dotted the population of the Citadel. Making rounds as a C-Sec officer and spotting couples of different build and sometimes, different language; it was all so strange to him. Turians were the only ones that he had found attractive and he knew it would never change. Until Jane Shepard came into his life. He remembered with a fond smile that he hadn't even wanted to have anything to do with the woman when she sat in that chair across from him. But she turned out to be everything he loved in a female. She was strong and fearless, yet feminine and beautiful. As he had gotten to know her under her command, he realized that every part of her personality and body was something that he found astounding and attractive. She was the embodiment of the perfect woman, and now she was no more.
Garrus laid his face in his hands and cried silently as he remembered the exact feeling of her delicate hands on his mandibles. How could it be that he was the only one losing himself after her death? The rest of their crew had mourned and moved on. Yet here he was, crying over the side of a ledge, alone and cold with nothing to show for any of his accomplishments. They meant nothing without Shepard. And with her departure from the living, she took with her a piece of him. He knew he could never feel whole again. He would continue to make friends, attract people with similar ambitions, but it would never help.
He lifted his head and studied the view. From where he stood, he felt powerless. Perhaps that was the sad truth about this forsaken place. Even from an almost omnipotent vantage point, his blurry vision had corrected itself and he saw that Omega still looked like a pile of shit. The towers were impressive, but that didn't mean that it was also pretty. It was an industrial hell hole, made for the poorest of the poor, grown with the dirty money of cheaters and thieves, and sustained with the blood and tears of the tired and hungry. Garrus noticed the ugliness of the place. The walls were covered in fixed cracks and stains, rust and discolored metal from various fumes. Machinery littered the streets and alleys, and the windows in the residential districts hardly served their purpose. Everything was filthy and disgusting, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Garrus realized the hopelessness of his self driven mission. "Is this some sort of lesson from the spirits? Shepard died, but her holy and benevolently merciful ghost haunts me always." He had taken to imagining what Shepard would say to him if she were there to see what he did.
"I don't think fucking out your frustrations is a good idea. You might get addicted to it like you did with me."
"She would say that. It seems so like her; rather than being sensitive and focusing on the sex, she would imply that I'm being stupid, hiding it within a joke and leaving it to me to get the idea. I never thought I would like to be scolded with dry humour…" He chuckled to no one in particular after voicing his thoughts. Damn, he missed her so much that it hurt.
He reached for his pack and pulled out the shining gun. Bought from a friend on the Citadel, it had become the most reliable weapon he had ever used. He slowly pieced it together as he admired the reflective surface and savored the paint that marked its model. With the scope secured in no time, he lifted the heavy machine to his eye. Garrus resolved to discontinue thought of his lost lover for tonight. Though he set aside time every day to remember and think on her in bitter sweet memory, the image couldn't be held for very long. Too much hurt and he would never get over that damn woman. Of course she would frustrate him like this in her afterlife.
The scope opened his eyes to just how shitty Oemga really was. Eveything he knew about its hideous nature was simply magnified times three. Then he stopped at a window. His eyes widened as he stared through the magnification lens at a man in blue armor removing his helmet. Garrus was so shocked at his discovery that he almost slid his damn gun over the edge of the railing from leaning into the scope too much. He knew he didn't have time to spare, so while he loaded a bullet into the chamber he thanked the Spirits for remembering him, mentally hugged and kissed Shepard's glorious face in elation, and high fived Sidonis for this soon to be victory. Taking aim once more, he took in a deep breath to steady his arms and shot the lone bullet towards Tarak's vulnerable head.