Dark. Cold. Shepard curled her legs to her chest in a poor attempt to warm up. She wanted to go back to sleep; her forehead creased in concentration, attempting to continue the dream she'd just been having. In the woods, by her old house. Garrus had been walking through the thicket, pace too fast. Her legs felt like they were moving through putty as she tried to keep up. Calling didn't help, he couldn't hear her over the bird calls, and anguish chilled her muscles, eventually brought to a standstill, trapped and lost.
"Garrus.." she mumbled under her breath, wanting to shout it. Except Garrus had never been to Earth, she'd never shown him the trees, and the birds were screaming, chanting, certainly not singing.
She pried her eyes open and pain woke with her like a slumbering partner. A roaring ache swelled at the back of her head, shooting down her spine with each breath. Every muscle begged her to keep still, but soldier's instinct made it clear that the luxury was not an option, and she pushed herself up. Sitting consequently made her dizzy, and the sensation was so sickening she wanted nothing more than to lie back down and wait for the feeling to subside. But she couldn't. She wasn't alone.
Half the crew appeared to have been waiting for her to wake up, circled around and crying out in anger? No, excitement. Fear settled in deep, and Shepard struggled to breath. Calm. Calm. She had to think this through. What had she been doing? Ira had taken her to see Kaiden, Ira had hit her, she'd hit her hard.
Through the swell of unfamiliar faces she caught the evil little glint of her guard, holding an empty bucket and smirking. Shepard realised then that her hair and face were wet, no doubt how they'd managed to cease her slumbering.
"Whats - "
"Get up."
Two different pairs of talons were reaching out from the crowd, grabbing her arms and pushing her unceremoniously to her feet. This time Shepard really did lose control of her stomach, and the crew laughed as one while she vomited down her legs, dry heaving for a while after.
"Look, it's beaten already."
"Whos taking bets?!"
"Give her one from me, Ira!"
"I've got to film this. The extranet is going to go nuts…"
"Get on with it already!"
They were in a ring, a pit. Her eyes darted wildly over the dank little room. A metal railing was all that separated her and Ira from the others, circling sandy ground. Ira tossed the bucket to the side and cracked her neck, rolling her shoulder blades, flexing her bandaged fists, warming up. A fight then. Garrus had tried to explain that turians often had wrestling matches on their ships, a way to relieve stress.
This felt more like revenge.
"Ira." Reasoning with her was her only option. Maybe if she were at her best, maybe if they hadn't been beating her for a week, maybe then Shepard would had stood a chance. But that just wasn't the way of things, and it was clear to everyone that her chances of survival were slim. "Ira, wait. You're not thinking this through. This isn't a good idea."
That earnt another ripple of laughter, and sharp hands pushed her further into the centre of the circle, jabbing and prodding should she venture too close to the edge. Claustrophobia began to niggle its way into her head. It was damn hot, stifling, and the air made it hard to breath. She glanced up to the rafters above, guessing that they were under the engines if the noise was anything to go by.
Ira regarded her imperturbably. Shepard had never noticed how tall she was, wearing nothing but tight trousers that covered her from thigh to waist. Skin providing a natural armour, where all she had in comparison was soft flesh, already bruised and battered.
"You look ready to shit yourself, Shepard. Shoulda known, all you humans are cowardly." She cooed, clearly enjoying the attention. The cheering crowd only encouraged her, and Ira's mandibles fluttered with a happy purr, relishing in her five minutes of fame while Shepard seethed across from her. There was no shame in being afraid, you needed fear in order to be brave.
The pair began to circle each other, and god damn it, but Shepard couldn't help but raise her fists, happy - at the very least - that her hands weren't visibly shaking.
"What will the spectre say when he finds out you've killed his hostage?" She said, hopeful there was a bit of sense in Ira that was listening.
"That's what the spare is for."
"Kaiden's hardly awake for an interrogation."
"Sleeping men can't fight either." Ira lashed out with three quick jabs. Right, left, left. She stumbled out of range just in time, but was immediately pushed forward once more by the crowd at her back. There would be no escaping.
"Ira, just think for a second -"
"Shut up and fight!" Two more jabs, this time she felt the air rush by her cheek. The crowd booed and hissed as Shepard successfully dodged once again; spitting at her, hot liquid splattering onto her cheek. She ignored them.
"Everyone will know it was you. Half the crew will witness it. Saren will be furious, he'll kill you."
Ira merely cackled, stepping forward as Shepard struggled to retreat, finding there was little enough space to put between them. "This was his idea, you idiot! You've disrespected him long enough. He's going to say the asari did it, one of her experiments gone wrong. Then your body will be shipped to the citadel and cracked open to see whats inside."
Well, that did it then. Really, she had nothing to lose. And so Shepard charged with a guttural cry, rugby tackling Ira to the floor. Deciding surprise was her best tactic if she couldn't use strength or diplomacy.
Ira certainly hadn't been expected the tackle, and grunted as her head spikes sunk into the sand. The crowd exploded with cries as the pair grappled on the floor, stamping their feet on the floor in sync. The drumming stomps only encouraged her blood lust, and Shepard landed a solid punch to her cheek. Adrenaline providing a temporary strength. Ira snarled, beginning to twist one arm, and then they were rolling. Struggling to gain leverage. Her arm was still being forced against her joint, so close to breaking that the bone started to crack.
"Uaargh!" Shepard kicked her in the waist frantically, and rolled away as soon as Ira's grip loosened. The turian cried out, clutching the abused skin.
The pair got back onto their feet, finding it a struggle. No longer standing so straight, no longer looking so eager, and yet beginning to circle the other once more, fists raised.
"What happens if I win?" Shepard asked, needing longer to catch her breath.
"You don't win." Ira spat.
"Okay. But what happens if I do?"
"Ha! If you win Shepard, I'll fly you back to your miserable planet myself."
They both laughed at the thought, though Shepard's didn't feel much mirth. She was too busy trying to think of a new strategy. If Ira had any disadvantage it was her predictability. It was easy to guess a fighter's next move when they couldn't control their temper, and Shepard had never met anyone angrier than Ira.
Even then she was quickly losing patience with their two and fro, and Ira lashed out with another punch. Shepard ducked before she hit her mark. Ira snarled, and jabbed again. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. She kept her own movement to a minimum, leaning side to side and stepping back only when necessary to avoid all of her attacks. Though going on the defensive only maddened their audience, and the roars grew deafening as they watched Ira slowly run out of energy, panting now as she followed Shepard around the ring, missing every mark.
"Hit me already!" She feigned towards her stomach then aimed for her head, Shepard blocked the blow by locking her arms in front of her face before retreating. She was smaller, faster, and gradually feeling more confident about her odds.
"When you fly me back home, Ira, will it be in your own ship? Or -" jab, swing, Ira stumbled before her next attack, Shepard merely leaned back to avoid it. "Or will I just sit on your back and kick?"
"UGH!" She swung again, but rage caused her to aim too far, and put all her weight on her front leg. Shepard saw the opening and took it without mercy, stepping to the side before closing in. She grabbed Ira's stretched arm and turned, pressing the limb over her shoulder and using the turian's weight against her.
Ira was flung forward and landed on her back, eyes wide, as if she wasn't quite sure how it had all happened. Shepard wasted no time, training kicking in. She still had a hold on her arm, and now locked it against her legs. Ira let out a feeble no as Shepard ignored her, giving the wrist one swift twist. She grinned at the loud cracking noise that left the crowd wincing in sympathy for their comrade.
Arm broken, Ira was done. Yet she mounted her anyway, knees digging into her waist, smashing her fist against her face before anyone could intervene.
One, two, three respectable punches; and then Shepard was being dragged off and tossed away. Everyone had clearly been betting against her, as not a single soul was happy with the human's unexpected victory. She'd barely had chance to cover her head behind her hands before they were kicking her, relentlessly. The turians wrestled amongst themselves for a chance to stamp on her, while Ira was being dragged to her feet, having a tantrum whilst she clutched onto her twisted arm.
So this was how she'd go. At least Ira wouldn't get the satisfaction of killing her herself. That was something.
"Stop!" A voice demanded amongst all the chaos. Garrus? She didn't even know anymore. One foot had caught the bump on her head, and now the ringing in her ears was demanding her full attention, and the pain dragged her into a deep slumber yet again.
This time when she woke there were no dreams, and the pain did not wake with her, but had been there all along. Throbbing each inch of her body. Shepard ached in places she hadn't even thought she could. The back of one knee in particular stung, and she tried to concentrate on a duller pain that had to be somewhere else. Her toes weren't quite so sore, though her face felt like it was on fire.
"Ah!" Someone pressed a cold compress to her eye and she pried the other one open into a slit. Shepard never thought she'd be grateful to be back in her prison cell again, but she was, and might have cried out in joy had her tongue not felt so heavy.
"Careful. Two black eyes. Three broken ribs. Several fractures. Contender faring better, despite losing match." A voice she didn't recognize, snapping out quick facts by her blind side.
"'Hoo argth youf?" She managed, not attempting to sit up in bed, but feeling that she was strapped against it in any case. There was something ironic in that, she was sure.
"Curious. You speak Salarian. No. Impossible. Language chip. Installed by Dr T'Soni. Adjustments proved successful. Knew it would work. Though quicker than hypothesised. Interesting."
The lack of emotion oddly irritated her, and Shepard tried to cast her eye around the room, seeing nothing but a various smears.
"Garruff?!" Her tone came out more panicked than she'd intended, swollen tongue an' all.
"I'm here, Shepard." She felt his callused hand lightly rest on her own, and she was oddly grateful for the contact. No one had been this gentle with her in weeks.
"Is she going to be alright, Professor?" Liara murmured by her left.
"Yes. Presumably. Too many variables to announce as fact. Internal bleeding tricky. New species. Remarkable defence mechanism. White blood cells. Shame, human bones do not grow back quickly."
"I cannot believe Ira would stoop this low," Garrus said. His hand tightened on her own for a few seconds, struggling to quell his rage "she hasn't been reprimanded. Fidus just gave her cleaning duty for a month. Strictest fleet in the galaxy my ass."
"Fidus? Oh. Captain. Of course. No. Not really in charge. Spectre pulls the strings."
"Sar – Sarrrfh." She groaned, frustrated. Wanting to warn them, wanting to be a part of the no doubt important conversation.
"Shh." Liara was stroking her hair, but that did nothing but worsen her headache. "The drugs will start working soon, Shepard. It will ease the pain."
"Saaarrrpfff!" She tried again, Professor Solus somehow understanding her nonsense.
"Saren. Yes. Yes! His idea. Of course! Wants the humans dead. History suggests as such. Killed Taylor. Denied Kaiden proper treatment. Shepard deemed useless. Will try again no doubt. Motives unclear. Racial rage? No. Killing provides no tactical advantage. Should want to get the most information out of humans at least. Denial then? Maybe. Less information equals slimmer chance for peaceful conclusion. Saren wants war. Shepard key to ending – "
"Wait, slow down, Mordin. Let the rest of us catch up." Garrus frowned across at him, though he'd understood perfectly. He found himself in denial himself. "Why would Saren do that? He gave the order to bring hostages in the first place."
Shepard could feel the pain killers starting to work, and moaned weakly, anxious she was about to swallow her tongue. Maybe Liara was still paying attention to her. She'd probably help. The other two, however, were completely distracted by their wild accusations, and their incessant voices were starting to grate on her nerves.
"No. Spectre answers to council. Council wanted hostages. Not Saren."
They were making her head swim. Councils? Keys? Couldn't they have this conversation outside and let her sleep? She groaned again, Garrus squeezed her fingers in response. That wasn't the reaction she'd wanted, and she tried to work her tongue around the words 'shut' and 'up.'
Mordin continued, growing excited as he thought aloud. "Saren wants war. Council peace. Shepard could end it. Or any human really. Shepard merely most likely. Alive, language chip, will be able to talk once swelling goes down."
"I meant, about him trying to kill her?" Garrus's words grated out in an impatient snap, and Shepard felt oddly satisfied. At least she wasn't the only one feeling frustrated.
"Ah yes. Needs it to be accident. Could simply say Shepard succumbed to her injuries. Blame Ira. Council would not argue. Solid plan, all things considered. Hmmm. Impressed he thought of it himself."
"Wait, no," Liara murmured. Shepard could just imagine her fidgeting with her hands, worrying despite hardly knowing her. "We can't let that happen. He'd kill us all. What are we going to do?"
"That's easy." Mordin announced, apparently having all the answers. "We escape. Tonight."
They all shared a glance, excluding poor Shepard. Garrus's mouth turned dry, noting how confident Mordin seemed over the entire thing. He wished he could share his determination. Casually declaring they not only betray the turian fleet, but his entire race. He looked to Liara, who was chewing on her lip, but watching Shepard with that awe inspired loyalty that told him she was on board with the idea. He turned his attention to Shepard instead, laid bruised and bloody once more, unable to give much of an expression underneath her swollen features. But it didn't take a mind reader to know she'd be more than happy with an escape plan. No doubt she'd been planning to try a second attempt this entire time.
He turned away. Wondering how to tell them, that he had no choice but to file a report.