A/N: A great big thanks go out to LunaMax1214 for her beta skills on this chapter. She gets even more awesome every day.
Chapter 3 - Executioner
"So, do you want to pour the wine, or should I?" Her boots clacked against the tiles as she crossed the small floor. I never could have imagined what she'd look like out of uniform, to be honest, and even for that thief's mission she'd been in something that looked completely impractical. This outfit, however, a soft, grey material that clung in some places and flowed away in others, I had to admire. Not because of the figure it made her cut, but because in spite of the glaring lack of material I could see at least three weapons she was carrying hidden about her person. You know, maybe I should have followed through before the relay...for the cover, of course..., was my errant thought as I watched her move almost predatoraly across the room, walking behind the hip level counter.
Thing was, I was carrying just as many hidden weapons myself, but there was no need to tip that hand just yet. The thought of trying to disarm her before attacking just felt wearying, however, and I had grown tired of the continuing charade over the last few weeks. So I got down to business.
"Do you really want to continue the game, Shepard?"
She stopped from where she was poised in the kitchen, green eyes trained on me.
"Not really, Archangel. So glad you finally chose to blow cover. Makes this so much easier." She slowly put down the unopened wine bottle, setting it next to the glasses beside it.
"I was protecting the crew of the Normandy. Nothing more." Okay, so that wasn't completely correct, only partially. If she was so damn determined to lure me into a fight to the death, then I wasn't letting it happen where the crew would feel forced to take sides. I didn't actually approve of the whole idea, but I also had to admit the idea of a battle against someone of her skill was...appealing.
Made my regret for having a part in 'betraying' her slightly more easy to bear.
"Did you actually think I would ever put them in danger?" she asked in disbelief, moving forward to the counter that separated us. Her hands were out of sight now, however, and that made me nervous. Better make for some cover.
I moved down the small set of stairs into the open living room, hands at my back non-chalantly as I did so. "In response to something you possibly viewed as treachery: yes. The seduction techniques were a nice touch, though."
"It worked. You didn't know what I was up to until right before the collector base."
"Try the derelict reaper," I retorted, eyebrow ridge raised.
"Hmm...I'm impressed. Not enough to spare you, though." I sensed, rather than heard, the safety being tapped on what was probably her shotgun, considering her tendencies and her mood. I silently did the same on my assualt rifle, still not extended where it was hidden in the back of my waistband.
"So, what happens now?" I asked, waiting on her move.
"Now?" she asked, tilting her head. "Now, you die, traitor."
The cocking of her shotgun while she sprang into motion over the counter was my final warning, and I dove left, thanking the spirits she tended to use one with a tight shot group. I pulled my own weapon as I rolled, ending up behind the couch when I finished, rifle at the ready.
Two more rounds of shot echoes around my head as she fired again, missing me by almost nothing. I risked a quick glance, letting my eyepiece do the work for me, finding her heat signature still behind the bar. Without hesitation, I reached up, firing blindly in her general direction. The cover fire kept her pinned long enough for me to dash behind the vid cabinet instead, a heavier wood that would be able to withstand more damage.
Quickly, I reloaded, on some level cursing the close quarters that made my sniper rifle impractical.
"Hey, Archangel? You still moving?" I heard her call, and while she was going for a flippant tone, I knew better. She didn't know where I'd moved to, and was trying to get me to slip. I waited, silent, until I heard soft footsteps across the room.
When the hell did she ditch those boots? Damnit, I was counting on that advantage.
When I was sure she'd cleared the kitchen, I crouched down, firing at chest level.
She must have heard me, though, because she was already ducking behind the other side of the very couch I'd just been using for cover.
"I take that as a yes, turian," she called, a statement closely followed by the sound of her reloading.
2.5 seconds, that's how long it takes her to reload... I moved around again, firing in the vicinity of where I knew she'd be. I had to have hit her, but coming around the corner of the couch only garnered me an empty space.
Immediately I ducked, only barely missing being butt-stroked in the carapace. Shepard laughed, on me all of a sudden, and I knocked her weapon away with my own. The force of the strike sent her back against the bar, but also was more than enough to make us both lose our grip on our weapons, sending them flying somewhere in the vicinity of the front door.
I watched the arc for a moment, gaze flicking back just in time to see her turn back from the bar, and the boots she had deposited on the top of it. In her hand was a wicked blade, causing me to smirk at her.
"What, exactly, do you think that is going to gain you?" I said, reaching down into my own boot to draw my mexta. The serration on the tip of the blade and the difference in size made her own dainty choice look like a child's toy.
"Size isn't everything, Archangel. Or did you forget my offer to show you my flexibility?"
She lunged forward, and I brought my own weapon up to meet hers, deflecting the blade expertly.
"Do they train humans to do this kind of thing, or is it just a talent you possess?" She flicked her blade back and forth, grinning as she tried to use the light to distract me. I ignored the tactic.
"Ever heard of N7 training? I have more skills at my disposal than even you know," she swiped again, and again I stepped back, easily outmaneuvering her.
"Hmm...maybe I should have stuck around the night before the relay," I shot back.
She gave a guttural scream as something about that statement pissed her off, lunging again. The power behind the thrust made it much more difficult to avoid, and I spun to keep from garnering a nasty slice to my arm.
I'd barely faced her again when the flash of the knife caught my attention, and this time instead of deflecting, I grabbed her wrist and shoved it upward, stopping the attack cold. Pressure applied to her wrist was more than enough to make her drop the knife, and I kicked it away. I held my own blade
to her throat, watching as she calmly awaited my next move. The only betrayal of her nerves was a slight swallowing, which was more than enough pressure to draw blood from the skin contact with the incredibly sharp blade.
Keep your weapons maintained at all times. That was a mantra all turians lived by. But as I watched a small well of blood slowly work its way down her throat, I cursed that lesson and the marring it had given her.
Up until that point, neither of us had taken any damage. It had been a dance of skill, to see who could outlast the other before blood was spilt.
But staring at that red droplet, it suddenly occurred to me that if I followed this to its conclusion, I'd be seeing a lot more than marred skin and tiny cuts.
I wasn't sure I could do it. I wasn't adverse to teaching her a lesson, but outright killing her for what would seem self-defense?
That was how Saren worked, not me. I would never become that man. And no matter what Shepard currently believed, I wasn't a traitor either.
She was still staring at me, eyes piercing and brown hair in disarray, having escaped the bun she currently had it kept in in various places. She looked wild, but also dangerous, even in her current predicament.
"So what's it going to be, Vakarian?" She took a small step forward, gasping sharply as the blade cut in more, causing more blood to flow, but she didn't back away. "You going to kill me, right here? Then do it and get it over with."
I sighed, narrowing my eyes, "I don't want to kill you, Shepard. But I'm not going to stand by while you deny me the same courtesy."
"Sucks to be you, then," she said, using her free hand to shove my own away, catching another slice of from the blade as she did so, albeit shallow from the look of it.
As I stepped back, trying to anticipate her next move, she whirled, performing a roundhouse kick that sent my mexta flying to join her own weapon.
That's it. Time for plan B. I went for my still concealed pistol, fumbling slightly in my hurry to remove it from its holster. I freed it just as I heard her own weapon pull free, and whirled just in time to level my pistol in her face, only to find her own inches from mine.
Carnifex hand-cannon, projectile speed... I ignored the scrolling information on my eyepiece, already knowing the specs on that gun in particular, having watched it rip apart more than one enemy in my time.
"What now, Archangel? My gun has a much lighter trigger pull, you know?"
I snorted. I'll be damned if she didn't seem to be having a good time, if the tone of her voice were any indication.
"And mine has a modified hair trigger, and is a higher caliber…" I shot back, raising an eyebrow ridge.
We stared, eyes locked, and she quirked an eyebrow at me in turn. "Drop?"
I nodded. "Drop."
Without hesitation, we both threw our pistols to the side, crouching down to begin circling. Damn it, I had no clue what her talents were in this area once the knives were removed. She knew mine, though. That gave her an advantage.
But I had the size and strength to counter her, so not much of one, and approached the challenge with more than a little relish.
I growled softly, a sound she returned, much to my surprise.
"You shouldn't have tried to play me for a fool, Garrus. Really, really, shouldn't have." She took one step, then another, making sure her feet never crossed as she did so. This indicated a certain level of training, since such a stance would allow her to keep her footing if I charged.
"Played you for a fool? Hardly. I had a mission, and I fulfilled it. I kept my loyalties where they should have been." We continued to match each other step for step, the words only serving to try and distract one or the other of us. It was a game, a deadly one, and I was determined to win it. "And I never lied, not once. I might be a horrible turian, but I never crossed that line."
She scoffed, obviously seeing no difference between my word games and actual lies. I took another step, being careful not to lose my footing on the small staircase not far behind my feet, changing verbal tactics as I did so.
"And unlike you, I know who gives my orders."
She laughed, "A Council that will screw you over the minute they don't like your decisions? Believe me, you're not the only Spectre in this room, remember?" Step. Step.
"I don't spend every waking moment challenging their authority!" she backed up slowly, and almost lost her footing on that very set of steps so soon before. But she regained it almost instantly, and it only took me a second to realize it had been a feint. I couldn't help but grin.
"Sure you don't, you good little boy. Follow them right into the fire, won't you? While the Reapers destroy everyone and everything either of us has ever cared about."
The grin fell from my face as I hesitated, somewhat swayed by the vehemence of her tone, and that mistake almost cost me everything.
She launched herself at me, tackling me with all of her considerable strength, hands on my shoulders as she tried to knee me in the groin. Thank the spirits, but plating comes in handy for more than you could ever guess. When that didn't work, she headbutted me instead, only to realize that I was plated there too as she rolled off, groaning at her own stupidity.
"Not used to sparring with a turian, huh? Well, you chose the arena, Spectre." I rolled, elbowing her in the gut, causing her to double over in pain. I stood, catching my breath as I watched her in hopes she would yield, looking for my dropped pistol all the while. As my eyes flicked among the debris, I heard her curse, closely followed by my world exploding in pain.
A knee had connected with my left spur with an unimaginable amount of force, and I fell unceremoniously. Stars still flashing in front of my eyes, I fell on something relatively soft, and failed any attempt I could muster to get up again for a few minutes.
"Didn't think that through..." I heard the lump groan under me after a moment, realizing I'd fallen on my adversary. Hell, long as I was here, might as well take advantage.
Rolling until I had her pinned, I asked the obvious question. "What in the hell do you think all this is going to accomplish, Shepard?"
"I would think that would be obvious." I felt her legs bunch, but managed to maneuver to keep her from throwing me off, pressing her down more forcefully. Her cybernetics made her strong, but I hadn't been called one of the best hand-to-hand specialists of my time for no reason. She'd screwed up when she dropped her gun, since no amount of strength can save you against superior training. She struggled again, and I let her lift up slightly, then forced her down till her head hit the floor hard enough to daze her.
"You are not going to be able to kill me, here, like this. If you wanted me dead, you should have been more underhanded about it."
She shook her head, eyes wide as she waited on her vision to clear. "I considered that, then dismissed the idea. Goddamn, Vakarian, you know me well enough by now to know that I don't brook with dishonor. There's battlefield diversion, and there's outright wrong."
She hooked a leg under mine somehow, trying to roll me, and I forced her down a third time.
"Did it ever occur to you to talk to me?" I asked forcefully.
"Did it ever occur to you to tell me?" She returned.
"Yes, but I was trying to avoid this..."
She finally managed to roll me, distracted as I was as I tried to put my feelings into words, grabbing my dropped pistol at the same time. Without hesitation she shoved it between my mandibles, spitting out, "Is that why you left, the night before the relay? You were tired of sticking to your cover?"
"No, I left because you deserved better, Shepard."
With a scream, she stood, backing away with the pistol still aimed at me. "Bullshit, Vakarian. Even now, you can't stop lying."
"Believe me or don't," I responded, still on my back. The pistol shook slightly in her hand, and I contemplated tackling her again as she debated. But no, I was done fighting, especially while she was holding my pistol instead of hers.
"Fuck you, Vakarian. I can't let this go." She sounded anguished, but I had to be imagining it. "I can't give you the chance to betray me again. I couldn't stand it." She aimed at my chest, hesitated one more second, then fired.
The thud of the bullet hit me square between the bottom points of the sniper triangle, and hurt like hell, but didn't do more than wind me.
Concussive rounds have a way of doing that.
I heard her throw the pistol away in disgust, and did my very best not to move, trying to enforce the idea that she'd accomplished exactly what she was after.
Fucking bitch shot me...oh, she's going to pay for that.
I fully expected her to retrieve her own weapons, to leave, to go change. Anything that would parallel the thousands of kills I'd watched her take in our acquaintance. She wasn't one to belly-ache over what was necessary. Ever.
Which was why the sounds that began to pervade the room a moment later were so out of place.
"Goddamn it, Vakarian. Why didn't you just fucking come to me at the beginning." Fuck all, it made no sense whatsoever, but she was crying. I slit one eye, seeing her perched on the edge of the lower couch with her knees drawn up under her, staring out into the sandstorm that had been the background noise for our 'discussion.' Bullet holes pitted the impenetrable glass, but she didn't seem to be actually looking at anything. She would glance away occasionally, but never at me, as if trying to fight against everything she had just done.
She had to have been doing that since pulling the trigger, come to think of it, or she'd have known I was still alive. A lack of a hole in the chest is a pretty good indicator. As is a lack of blood.
"Fuck you, and your sense of honor, you stupid fucking turian. It wasn't your fault," her words faltered as she slashed at her face with her hand, presumably to wipe away her tears. "It was that damnable Council sticking their nose in again. Well, fuck them, too. I've got three bullets with their names on it after this."
Oh, no you don't, Shepard.
Somehow, despite the debris and everything else, I managed to gain my feet without disturbing her, moving towards where she'd positioned herself.
I may be finding it difficult to take the kill, but I won't listen to you threaten our employers. That crosses the line between professional and personal for me.
She continued to speak as I crept forward.
"Just should have fucking come to me. We could have figured it out, Garrus. Could have figured us out."
I stopped, trying to decipher what I was hearing.
That is not possible... she can't mean what I think she does. The implications were...too hard to think about, in this context. The idea that I had gone about this all wrong, that she...
Doesn't matter, Vakarian. She's set it in her mind to assassinate the Council. You do your duty.
But it did matter, on some level, didn't it?
Still bickering internally with myself, I continued to move forward, unsure of my thoughts. No matter what else was going through my head, however, there was one thing I was absolutely sure of:
I couldn't let her walk out of this room until she'd changed her mind, or I'd have no qualms putting a bullet in her brain, Hero of the Citadel or not.
That was what the Spectres were there for.