~Jane~

It had been a week since Jane's major freak out while trying to have sex with Garrus for the first time. She hadn't expected such a violent reaction to the simple act of him running his hands across her back, but it brought back the twisted memories of a rotting corpse forcing itself on her that she nearly vomited on his bedroom floor.

Since then she had felt distant from him even though he really tried to cheer her and get her mind away from her dark thoughts. He had silently understood that she wanted space and let her come to him, not complaining in the slightest at her dramatic backtrack. His actions only left her to pounder his motives all the more.

Was he like her nightmares feared, someone just out for the pleasure and a unique experience? She had screamed and protested to the figment of her mind as it held her down in the dirt of Akuze, but looking at Garrus now, she still can't help but to wonder. He didn't seem to act like he was as she feared and she figured she was too much work if she was a quick fuck-buddy.

Then there was the feeling that he was willing to stand back and let her take control of their pace, letting her come to him for comfort and expecting nothing more. That thought only made her guiltier for keeping him at a distance and dragging him through the rollercoaster that was her nightmares and their influence on her waking hours.

She had battled with her confusion for so long that she hadn't noticed until this afternoon that this would be her last night on the Citadel before she was to ship back to Earth for the completion of her training, and her last night to spend with him. She didn't think she could push past her pain in time to finish where they had left off, but she did want to spend the night with him. With that in mind, she had sent him a quick ping asking to meet after his shift for some farewell drinks, to with he agreed happily.

She decides to return to Super Nova, the bar they had visited almost an entire month ago, because it is both close to his apartment and looks to cater to all species somewhat equally. She chooses two stools at the end of the bar with a full view of the club and waits with an eye out for Garrus' arrival.

The club is already packed full of people from every race, all either swaying and grinding on the dance floor, or in groups with their drinks in hand. She spots the bright blue of his visor as he enters from her vantage point and smiles when she notices that he must have picked her up with it.

He makes his way up the raised area of the bar and up to her, a smirk on his face. "It's your last night here and you want to relive the last time you went back to Earth?" He raises one eye brow plate.

"I thought you might need some practice on your carrying drunks home routine, seeing as how you're some fancy detective sitting at a desk all day." She smirks back and turns to join him on his way to the counter to order a drink.

The two place their orders, something simple for him and something mixed and strong for her. What the hell, I'm going back to duty, better live it up.

He turns to her as the bartender moves to make her drink, his glass raised halfway to his plates, with a raised brow, "Going straight to the hard stuff? Got to love a lady with some class."

She snorts a laugh, "Hey. I'm one hell of a classy lady." She dramatically cocks her hand at the wrist to bring her fingers to her chest. "I'm insulted you would ever think otherwise." He flicks a mandible out and takes a drink as the bartender sets her drink down.

Before she can hand him a credit chit, a large hand from her opposite side stops hers and tosses one of its own. She turns and comes face to face with a tall, dark haired man with a smile she can only equate to a sleazy leer. "Don't worry about that. A pretty lady like you should've have to buy her own drinks."

"You'd do well not to call me a pretty lady like you know me." She swats his chit in disgust and tosses hers at the bartender, her lip raising in a scowl at the tall stranger. "Leave me the hell alone and let me enjoy my night."

He leans closer to her, causing her to instinctively jerk back and bump Garrus, and she is able to quickly notice two other men over his shoulder showing great interest. His breath is laced with the smell of alcohol as it puffs against her face. "Now come on, why's a girl like you all alone in a big club like this if you don't want a guy to offer to buy you a drink."

"She's not alone," Garrus growls from over her shoulder, standing up from leaning against the counter, towering over her and her harasser, "and she asked you to leave."

Ignoring her now, the man turns his attention to Garrus, the two men now moving in behind him. "And what are you going to do about it Skullface? Your own women can't stand the look of you so you have to get into other people's business?"

He steps closer, pushing into Jane's personally bubble of space with his arid stench of BO and alcohol, and continues, "You think your big bad monster act is going to scare me? My father killed plenty of you ugly fuckers on Shanxi." He jabs a finger at Garrus, and despite the rumbling of his anger against her back, Garrus doesn't move a muscle. "If it was me, I would've killed every last one of you bastards even after the cease fire because it's no different from putting down a mad dog."

The only thing worse than someone being an asshole racist was someone being a racist to her friend. She is about to shove the man out of her space when she feels the subtle shift behind her and hears the low growl.

Quickly, knowing that all of it is a precursor to a charge, she tenses her body, knowing he can feel it against his chest and hoping that he recognizes it as a silent warning. She is perfectly fine getting in trouble with the law for getting into a heated race argument, but if he, as an upcoming detective, were to get into trouble, his hopes of helping people may end before even beginning.

"Let's go, Garrus," she quietly says over her shoulder, locking her blazing green eyes with the man's dark brown that has just remembered her. "He's not worth it." The tension against her back eases a bit in silent concession, and she turns to leave with Garrus at her side.

They make it a few steps before she hears the man's voice over the din of thumping bass and mixed conversations. "Now you need a woman to fight your battles? No wonder you lost, you bone-faced coward!"

Suddenly, she is startled by the sound of glass breaking right next to her and the cold shock of fluid splashing across the top of her back. Her mind blanks instantly and the vivid feelings of burning pain and pungent smell of oozing flesh, her dead comrades laid behind her like some demented version of breadcrumbs from a fairytale. She tenses at the expectant pain of flesh melting straight into the deep tissues below and her teeth clench against a scream, but it doesn't come.

She doesn't know how long it takes her mind to return back to realty to discover that her back isn't sizzling from Thresher acid, it's merely cold from the liquid soaking her shirt. She also quickly comes to the realization that she isn't on Akuze, but in a club on the Citadel.

A club on the Citadel that she was at with Garrus. Garrus, who is no longer standing to her right.

She spins quickly to the, just now registering, sounds of a fight and finds Garrus engaged in all three men at the bar.

Well, two is more accurate because one sits on his ass, his hand to his nose as it bleeds profusely. The other two are slow from their drinks and as one swings, Garrus easily moves to the side and elbows him in the abdomen. He stumbles back as the other takes a lunge to Garrus' back, struggling to wrap his arms over his broad cowl and reaching to his face, most likely going for his mandibles.

Garrus grabs one of his legs with his large hand, ducks the shoulder of that arm, and jerks with a shift of his weight, pulling the man off his back and to the ground with a sickening crack. The only sign he isn't dead is in his moan and hand raises to cup the back of his head.

The one who was elbowed slowly approaches as Jane finally unfreezes from her earlier panic to do the same, quickly noticing that broken nose is moving in with a broken bottle. Knowing that the stand still is all a distraction, she moves to intercept before Garrus finds himself facing an assailant with a weapon and without armor.

Just as broken nose rushes, the bottle held low to stab under Garrus' carapace, and unknowingly into the area of his unprotected midsection, she does too. Quickly, she stands in his way, staggering his approach enough that when he gets within arm's reach, she is able to shoot her hand out and grab his wrist in a death grip.

He immediately drops the bottle, and the last fighter, noticing their plan failed, tries one last drunken attempt at rushing Garrus. He easily dodges the sloppy punch and returns with one of his own, the man's body falling to the ground and out cold.

Broken nose struggles out of Jane's grip and she smirks when she notices that beneath the blood is the tall, dark haired man who had started it. Deciding that she should get some payback for his attempt to stab an unknowing Garrus during the fight, she twists his wrist, making him cringe closer to her so she can throw her head back and return it with full force straight against his battered nose. His high scream and following whimpering is worth the smear of his blood on her forehead and the escort out by security.

As they head home in companionable quiet, she notices that the breaking glass must have been the sound of the glass hitting Garrus' back because the entire back of his shirt is soaked in the same smelling liquor as hers. His right mandible seems a bit off from where she walks next to him, and she thinks it may be hurting him by the cringes that accompany any small movement from it.

When they arrive home, she takes him to the couch, pushing lightly on his shoulders in a silent order. He complies, so she moves to the bathroom to wash her forehead quickly and take out the medical kit he keeps and a towel.

Upon returning, she finds him probing the questionable mandible lightly, a light groan emanating from his lips. She places the medical kit down and removes his hand to get a better look. "Let me see, Garrus," she says softly when he flinches before she even touches plate.

Softly, she runs the tips of her fingers over the mandible, from back to front, then she dips below and runs along where it lays against his chin. Sure enough, it doesn't feel like it lays flat anymore like the other, but the problem doesn't seem to be in the actual mandible.

Continuing towards the back to reach the joint, she takes her other hand to his left to mirror the move, figuring that the joint might be the cause. When her fingers reach the joint, a soft groan and grit of his teeth accompany the disjointed feeling on the right where a smooth connection should exist like on the left.

Removing her fingers to crouch down and look him in the eyes, Jane smiles apologetically. "Garrus, your mandible feels like it's dislocated." She has a good feeling that's what it is, her curiosity of him had led her to look up his species with more than just porn and she was pretty proud to have learned quite a bit of his anatomy.

A mandible dislocation was actually a pretty common injury, though really painful. Turians had a lot of nerves in their mandibles and in their mouths, so usually this type of injury didn't tend to come from bar fights. Nobody wanted to pull on a body part of their opponent that they didn't want to be injured in return. Figures that it would seem Turians even held bar fights to a higher standard.

"I've had it happen before," he groans, his voice gaining a muffled quality from his attempt to keep from moving his mandible. "You have to pop it back it. I can't do it because of the angle."

Jane's eyes widen in surprise and she stands up quickly, his clear blue eyes still locked onto hers. "Me? I don't know one thing about popping a mandible back in." This wasn't some quick patch up job, she had seen diagrams of his anatomy and she had certainly seen a more personal view of his body, but messing with something like this? The possibility of hurting him more? "Maybe we should just take you to go see a doctor or something."

He groans louder and leans his head forward, his forehead coming to rest against her stomach. "No doctors, I don't want to spend our last night waiting around in a clinic all damn night." She can't help but frown at his pained groan and she rubs his shoulder, her right thumb softly stroking over the plate just before his fringe to keep away from his mandible. "How about I help you through it." He looks up to her, a plea in his eyes.

Her shoulders sag in an exhale and she nods with a soft smile, shifting her right hand into his grasp.

He takes her hand and runs it to the connection of his mandible, his eyes closing in both concentration and in an attempt to fight the pain. "Curl your fingers over the back of my mandible and take a hold. Got it. Now you are going to want to pull it away from my head and push it back, but keep it straight. Understand." He looks up to her, their eyes meeting before she nods in understanding and shifts her stance to get a better angle.

"On the count of three." She quickly kisses next to his eye socket, just below the bottom of his brow plate. "One…two," before he can tense in expectation of three, she pulls out and shoves back on his mandible, feeling a snap and hearing a soft pop as it shifts back into place. His loud yell and growl mixture drowns out her call of 'three' and he curls into her stomach, his hands fisting her shirt as he rides out the pain.

"What the hell happened to three?" His voice is muffled by her body but she can't hear the exasperation laced with grateful tones. "Who taught you to count?"

She laughs and he pulls his head away to give her a left handed smile. She moves to the medical kit and hands it to him, figuring he would know best what to use to finish doctoring his mandible. "Did I forget to tell you that I didn't go to school much? In fact, I pretty much dropped out after third grade." He raises a brow plate and she laughs again.

He hands her a wrap, instructing her how to place it as a support to keep him from unconsciously flexing his injured mandible. After she is done tending to his wound, she helps him remove his wet shirt and towel off, returning back with a clean shirt for both of them from the bedroom.

The two spend the rest of their night finishing off their remaining beers in the fridge and watching reruns of cheesy action flicks. He doesn't bring up the incident at the bar and she figures that he probably didn't notice how she had frozen from fear.