I'll follow you down, while we're passing through space,
I don't care if we fall from grace…
The door was shut. Voices could be heard from down the hall and on the first level. The party had been a success, though with tomorrow, shore leave would come to an end and the crew would be back aboard the Normandy to resume their involvement in the war. The festivities were settling down for the night as guests finally began to pass out on whatever surface they found most comfortable. The bedroom was spinning, and they both had a bit more than their fair share to drink.
Shepard was down to an N7 tank top and a pair of tiny, black, tight shorts. She had stripped off the majority of her clothes, complaining how hot she was. She already had Garrus pinned down on the bed. She giggled as she slipped her hands through his unzipped top, hastily ripping it off his carapace, perhaps a bit too eagerly. He swore he heard her purr as she kissed the side of his neck. He knew he would soon follow suit if she kept this up.
After several moments more of teasing him, she jumped off him and walked backwards to the bathroom, beckoning him to follow.
"Why… don't we take a cold shower, cool off a bit…," Shepard cooed seductively, and then added, "My damn implants don't seem to be working fast enough."
Garrus snorted and swung his legs over the side of the bed to follow her, but not before taking notice that she had stopped in the bathroom doorway.
"What is it?" he asked. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, head turned down.
"What is it?" he repeated, walking behind her, peering over her shoulder. Shepard pointed to the bathroom floor with one hand, as the other suppressed a laugh.
Javik had his head in the toilet, clutching the sides of it with both his hands. He was still dressed in full armor, sick all over and looked utterly ridiculous. He slurred incoherently, his voice echoing off the inside of the bowl. Garrus caught only a few words as the prothean rocked back and forth on his knees.
"In my cycle… seek vengeance… throw them all out the airlock… tasty human beverage…," and with that, Javik spewed into his porcelain throne, triggering Shepard to quickly shut the door, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"He's survived two Reaper wars and 50,000 years… I think he'll survive hurling his insides out for one night," Shepard said with a wicked smirk. Garrus grabbed her around the waist with one hand as the other wrapped around the back of her neck.
"That's not very nice, Shepard," he whispered into her ear.
"Maybe… you should teach me a lesson," she said alluringly. "I think he's out for the night, so there's not a chance he'll hear us."
Garrus mustered what strength he had in his semi-drunk stupor, and hoisted her into the air, carrying her to the bed. Laying her onto the already disheveled sheets, he climbed on top of her.
Settling over her, he twisted her ember colored hair between his fingers, as she caressed his scarred mandible.
"How did someone like you ever fall for someone like me?" he asked quietly, his subharmonics trembling. She went still for a moment, regarding him curiously. Her makeup was smeared a bit, and she had dark circles under her eyes, but it only made his heart pound more earnestly against his ribcage, knowing she was real, and not just an illusion.
She took his marred face in both her hands, lifting her head off the pillows to kiss him fully on the mouth. Laying her head back down, her hair spreading out like a halo, she sighed, "Garrus… you've always had my six. Your loyalty to me as a squadmate and as a friend has been unwavering, even from the beginning. I say 'jump', and you leap first to make sure the landing's okay. I trust you, more than I've trusted anyone in my life. You should know that by now…"
"I do… It's just good to hear you say it every once in a while," he said, his mandibles flaring into a cocky grin. She punched him playfully on the shoulder before saying, "I lov-"
Garrus immediately placed a talon over her lips, "Don't say it… Not yet, at least… I don't want you to speak it, and something happen to one of us before this war is over. I-"
"There's no Shepard without Vakarian… you know that… If you go, I go with you…" she said in a low tone. Garrus closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her scent in.
Reality came flooding back and hit Garrus in the chest with the force of a dozen angry krogan. He was sitting in an office chair not made for turians. He and his father had temporarily taken up residence in an officer's room on the lower levels of Aurora Station.
Apparently having drifted off into a restless nap, Garrus rubbed his eyes and spun the chair around. His father was standing over him, his arm extended, as if he was the one who pulled Garrus from his dreams.
"Are you alright, Garrus?" Tychus asked. "You were mumbling in your sleep."
Garrus leaned forward in the chair, running a hand slowly over his fringe. The memories and the dreams did nothing to improve the situation. If anything, they made him more furious and impatient to find Shepard. Sitting around trying to find clues was not how he intended this to begin.
"I'm fine," he lied, standing up with a groan. His damn abdomen was throbbing again. On occasion, he regretted quitting his physical therapy too soon, but the life of a Primarch didn't leave much room for luxuries such as that. He figured, once they took flight, he might resume conditioning, go through the turian boot camp training once more. It was a rigorous exercise regimen, but he hoped it would take the edge off.
"I spoke with Solana…," Tychus said carefully.
"And?" Garrus said, pacing the length of the small room.
"And she apologizes for the things she said to you. Said she's been worked up since your mother passed, and you, running off again was the match in the powder barrel."
"Straw that broke the camel's back…," Garrus muttered. Tychus tilted his head at his son, confusion written all over his face. "Sorry… human expression. So I sent her over the edge?"
"She had it in her head that's we would return to a normal life… a normal family… after the war was over…," Tychus continued.
"Nothing's ever going to be the same though. She needs to realize that, Dad. She-"
"Your sister is ten years younger than you. Do you remember how brash and stubborn you were at her age?" the elder Vakarian asked. After a moment he said, amusement in his subvocals, "Spirits, Garrus, you're still as stubborn as they come."
Garrus' mandibles twitched into what could have passed as a smile, "I suppose some things don't change."
"So what time doe we have to meet with Hackett?" Tychus asked, glancing at his opened omni-tool.
"In about 15 minutes. We should start to head up there now though,"
Both turians grabbed their tactical bags and left the room as they had found it, in the event they would not be returning. Walking through the corridors of the barracks to the elevators, several recruits saluted them as they passed. Upon reaching the end of the hall, Garrus spotted Wrex waiting for the elevator to come, two rookies eyeing the krogan with suspicion. Garrus noted that Wrex did nothing to alleviate their wariness. In fact, he jumped at the recruits with a growl, causing them to stubble backwards and take off in the opposite direction. Wrex leaned back with a satisfied chuckle.
The krogan warlord greeted them with his usual gruffness by nodding, "Garrus."
"Wrex," he said, shaking the krogan's hand before entering the elevator. "So... how's the family?"
"Bakara's fine, just popped out three little ones with another on the way,"
Garrus let out a long, low breath, "Uhh- Congratulations?"
"I told you we can pop 'em out fast."
Tychus shifted ever so slightly beside Garrus. Wrex took notice and said, "Don't worry old man. I'm not about to let my people become blood thirsty, war mongers again."
"Do you really think that you can keep that from happening?" Tychus asked.
"Already have. With the Reapers gone, we can focus on rebuilding Tuchanka, and restoring it to its former glory," Wrex declared proudly.
"I certainly hope-" Tychus paused as Wrex shot him a glare. The elder turian shifted course, wanting to avoid any more conflict than what was necessary, "Thank you, for the help on Palaven. You've proven the krogan can be trusted."
Wrex dipped his head in response just as the elevator doors slid open, revealing the corridor that led to the traffic room.
As they walked out of the elevator and rounded a corner, Tali hastened to meet them.
"Where have you been?" she breathed, exasperatedly. "Liara sent a message an hour ago. We've been waiting for you to get up here!"
Garrus glanced at his father and Wrex, both shrugging.
"Did someone find something?" he asked. Tali huffed and threw her hands into the air, "I can't believe you didn't get the message! Liara received another vid."
Garrus pushed past the quarian, and into the room. Hackett intercepted him before he could reach Liara. The Admiral placed a careful hand on Garrus' shoulder, looking him square in the eyes.
"I'm- I don't think you want to see this, son," he said solemnly. Garrus looked around the traffic room. There were only a handful of people sitting at the table. In fact, besides himself, his father, Wrex, Tali and Hackett, just Hannah Shepard and Liara remained. Liara, he saw, was sat beside Admiral Shepard, who had her head bent nearly to her lap, her hands covering her face and her shoulders shaking… as if she was crying.
"Admiral… with all due respect… I need to see that footage," Garrus said, fear trembling on the edge of his dual toned voice.
"It's bad," Hackett said, turning to Liara. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Garrus quickly envisioned the worst possible scenario: Shepard dead before they ever had the chance to find her.
Liara hastily whispered some consoling words to Hannah Shepard. Standing up, she pressed 'play' on her omni-tool once more.
The vid was shot in the same room as before, except, this time there was sound. The same medical slab was propped up in the center of the room. Shepard was still strapped to it with ankles and wrists bound by metal clamps. Burns ran up and down one side of her body. Her head had been shaved and lolled to the side. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth, and her blue eyes were glazed over and bleary.
"Bring me Shol, and she may not have to die," she said in a manner that was not entirely her own.
After several moments, her eyes slid back into focus, and she looked right at the camera… straight through wires and hardware, between time and space, and directly at Garrus, pleading in her own voice, "Please Garrus…"
Cyrus Shepard strode into view, fury and frustration etched upon his features. He back handed his daughter across her bruised and broken face, and switched off the camera.
Garrus felt a swell begin to take hold in his chest, a dark shadow rising from the depths of a long slumber. His vision began to sharpen, his senses heightened tenfold. It was as if he was hyped up on half a dozen stims all at once. He wanted to tear the room asunder and shoot anyone that attempted to get in his way. An animalistic rage surged to the surface, and it was all Garrus could do to keep it in check. Rage was beginning to boil, and it wouldn't be long until all those involved would pay dearly for their mistakes.
"I want the Normandy," he growled, a deep and threatening rumble, his head buzzing, and Archangel finally emerging.
Updated 6/7/14