Chapter 18: Commander Pyjak
AN: I updated this story with chapter 17 yesterday, so make sure you don't miss out on that chapter too before you start reading this one!
This wasn't a dream anymore. It was a nightmare.
Liara sat at the worktable with her head in her hands, sometimes rubbing her throat and clearing it to try to rid the hoarse voice that persisted. She didn't keep track of how long she had sat here, but she still felt as though she was short of breath sometimes - usually when her morbid mind would replay what happened.
Of course she didn't blame Lucy, but all the understanding in the world still couldn't erase the fear that has corrupted every nook in her brain.
"What an emotionally exhaustive day. And the slave raid wasn't the start of it."
She paused for a moment to think on that, to have some kind of distraction from the other darker images that plagued her. She woke up to the smells and sounds of brewing tea, a touch slight hungover with little recollection of the night before, where she had apparently hugged Shepard - and thus taught the soldier she found it pleasant. She got nosy with the shopping list Lucy made, had been lightly fretted over her forehead bruise from when she woke up and smacked into the soldier's jaw. She was grilled for not having a favourite colour. She received the galaxy's ugliest robe as her first heart-warming gift. She watched the Commander go on a rampage with a determination to equip her entire crew of the ugliest robes. She had survived a communal shower, had gone through an emotional rollercoaster with everything that transpired during the slave raid, after the slave raid when they finally culminated their feelings, and now...
"She was above me. She was there, but wasn't, a mirror that was a thousand yards away. Her hand... Goddess, her hand..."
Liara rubbed her throat almost obsessively. She had to get out of her laboratory suit or she swore it was going to finish the job and choke her out instead. She released the suction and peeled away the skin-tight layers as fast as she could, sometimes tripping and fumbling about in her rash haste. She refused to go near the bed and sit on it.
Cruel curiosity compelled her to check her throat in the mirror, and she grimaced at the splotches of purple bruising coming in. It was in the shape of a hand, worst of all, and she incessantly scratched at her skin to feel that rather than the sensation as if the fingers were still snaked around her throat. Her eyes burned. Frustrated burned hot as toxic poison ripping through her chest. It ached to breathe, more so because she didn't know what to do anymore. She was scared, and she was alone, and worst of all Lucy was subjecting herself to the same thing.
"She's not going to let me near her. I know it. I could see it, especially when she refused to look at me. She thinks it's better to stay away from me."
And it hurt. It hurt that the soldier's only solution to keep her safe was to completely kill this bond between them.
"She's going to go back to her lone wolf ways. This time? I don't know if I will be able to pull her away from them. She's going to be determined to stay that way."
With stout discipline to boot, able to resist even the temptation of fishing in favour of continuing the mission, Liara knew that her chances of being able to talk about this with Lucy was slim. Even if there was a chance, what could the archaeologist say? Yes, of course she understood. Now she knew better. But what did that mean, moving forward? What plausible solutions were there, for them?
And for Goddess' sake, could the images just be deleted from Liara's mind already?
"She was above me. Her hand-"
Liara had to tear herself away from the mirror, had to force her hands down on something. She sat down and turned on the terminal, bringing up a random report out of desperation. The words blurred, and even when she had read the sentences, she had to re-read them a few extra times for the information to actually imprint in her brain.
No matter how hard she tried, it hadn't helped. Her mind wouldn't stop racing, becoming a tangled web of emotions and memories and solutions and fears. She had to stay on the momentum of progression, for it was in her very duty to problem-solve how to preserve precious artifacts. She didn't want this between them to just become history so soon.
"But if there's anything I learned during the course of spending time with her, it's that I can't push. Any resistance will make her run farther away."
She couldn't very well herd the Commander back either though, could she?
Knocks interrupted her before the idea could fully blossom into something fruitful. Dazed, she went to answer the door, but not before checking the mirror quickly to dress up and cover the bruises darkening on her throat. The one on her forehead was a forgotten thing of the past, and it wouldn't be the first time she's felt or looked like a fool. She wore the clumsy bruise as a point of pride and as fuel to the fire that she needed to keep stoked inside of her.
Liara answered the door, and was taken aback by the sight of a marine giving her a brief salute. She tried to mimic him and fumbled about, flustered, smiling apologetically when the marine struggled not to smirk.
"Sorry, I'm new to this. Are you looking for the Commander? I'm afraid she's not here."
"Actually, she's ordered me to escort you to your new accommodations. She's set them up."
Oh, what a horrific blow. The speed of which she was being so readily kicked out really dug in hard into her heart, and she can't help but take it somewhat personally. And angrily.
"She's really going to give up - just because of one mistake?"
Thoughts consumed her as she nodded along and followed the marine's lead, trying to stay hopeful as she fuelled the fire in her heart before it had already been extinguished. It was a little hard to maintain it when all she could visualize now was a half-synthetic scarred pyjak using an actual fire extinguisher on her.
"If she thinks she's going to run away without at least talking this through with me, she is so wrong. She owes me at least that so I can heal from that... Experience."
Her hands itched to rub her throat. She tried to distract herself with studying the Normandy and where they were going, so that she wouldn't be lost the second she stepped out of whatever accommodations have been made for her. A little grumbly frown wormed into the back of her mind.
"She better not have stuffed me in the darkest corner of the ship."
Well, a dark corridor wouldn't necessarily be totally unwelcome, but in solitude? Yes, very much so. She could almost believe that Lucy would, in fact, do such a thing, but she held on stern to faith that the soldier would stay true to the Fair part of her name. Her answer waited ahead of her as the marine gestured to a closed door, of which only had the number 3 above it.
"You're posted here. I cannot enter here as these quarters has been refurbished to meet the needs of... Er, no offence," the marine smiled tersely, "Of Aliens, among some other security detail." He cleared his throat. "All female, to ensure comfort."
"Why would I be uncomfortable with men?"
"Uh... I-I can't answer that, ma'am. Best to ask the Commander. Or Chief Williams. She is the officer in charge of this section, I believe, or she will know who is. I apologize that I do not have more information for you, all I have are my orders."
Liara nodded amiably. "No need to apologize, thank you very much for doing so, despite it being a mundane task for you, surely."
"N-no! Of course not, it was my pleasure," the nervous marine smacked heels and saluted. "If that will be all-"
"Were you part of the ground team?"
She wasn't quite sure why the question flew out her mouth, whether it was the lingering worries about Lucy's true emotional state over the slave raid - whether she was aware or not... Or if it was because this marine too wore colours under his eyes like Lucy. He seemed taken aback by the question, uncertain, and it showed in his nod. She chuckled mirthlessly.
"Sorry, I don't know why I asked. Thank you for all that you did." She instinctively reached for his shoulder, mindful of how he tensed and shifted back. Her hand dropped. "It must not have been easy to see that."
For some reason, it seemed to be a trigger. The marine didn't quite flip like a switch, but all courtesy drifted away when he tersely took his leave.
"It's never easy to see innocent people hurt like that," he muttered. "All batarians should just burn in hell."
Liara watched the retreating figure until it disappeared around the corridor's corner, sucking in a deep breath before it tumbled out of her in a defeated sigh. Her heart fell, a new wave of weariness already slamming into her and beckoning for her to slip into bed. She had to muster enough energy for whatever awaited her in her new quarters. She prayed with all her might that nobody was in here, and reluctantly touched the button to open the doors. To her relief, the lights in the quarters was significantly dimmed.
There seemed to be a few humans who were already fast asleep, perhaps also part of the ground team. The archaeologist slipped off her boots before she snuck along and tried to deduce which bed she was supposed to have, or if it was a matter of just crashing into the first available one. She elected to take the top bunk bed closest to a small port window, climbed up the ladder and slipped under the covers. Her eyes burned again as the weight of everything crept back to burden her. She pulled the covers up higher and scooted closer to the window, wishing to watch and reach for stars. Instead, she watched flocks of traumatized humans, seemingly yelling and searching for loved ones.
"Were we too late to rescue everybody? Did the batarians take some?"
What a dreadful nightmare, to have a loved one ripped away, off to meet a worse fate. Liara's lips pursed and she was stuck in a conundrum of not wanting to think too much on it for her own sanity, and feeling the need that she should out of respect and solidarity that it was the least she could do for those people. This was their nightmare that they had to live through. Who was she to complain about thinking of it?
"This is the nightmare Lucy survived." Liara observed the humans, corralled along by marines like cattle. "But she was the only survivor. How does she feel when she hears them call out for their families? If children cry for their parents? She didn't seem the least bit disturbed, only terrified at the prospect of receiving gratitude and hugs from those she's saved."
The hugging she had learned why there was such a serious aversion to it, but she couldn't help but wonder why there was a serious aversion to children too. Lucy seemed adamant about calling them 'behemoths' and hating them.
A tiny smile perked at the ridiculous name, lightening the blow as her mind never ceased to psychoanalyze - hating children must have stemmed to her own experience as a child, in this situation. Perhaps it was a repressed emotion still worming it's way to the surface by making her panic, because of the anxiety and anger she had felt. Perhaps perhaps perhaps, there were so many different reasons, causes, possibilities. The only way to know for sure was if Lucy had ever truly became aware of just how muted her emotions were, and commit to listening to them, feeling them the way they were meant to be felt, for good and bad.
"Who am I to say that she hadn't tried? I don't know the extent of trauma, I'm not a psychologist." Liara absentmindedly rubbed her throat. "She has to rely on medication just to get adequate rest, something everybody else takes for granted. These marines, the things they see, the things they must do in the name of duty, the things they sacrifice in order to help others... And they don't get to choose what they sacrifice. It's thrust upon them, and then they must make do with it, learn how to live and whether or not they still have it in them to keep sacrificing in order to keep helping others."
Thoughts collided one after another, and she swore she wouldn't be able to sleep any time soon. Her eyelids felt like weights were attached to them, her heart crying out for the stars every time she opened her eyes and saw more herds. She pulled the covers over her head and let her own emotions out, stifling the sounds as the tears rolled free.
"Every time I feel like I can finally keep up, be helpful to Lucy... I'm reminded that I'm just me."
{By being who you are now. You are a civilian. I need you to remain as one. I need you to stay as you are.}
"What good am I if all she thinks I can do is 'hug'?" Liara lightly scoffed, hiccuping in her slip-up to silence her tears. "I am an accomplished archaeologist, I've always taken care of myself long before she's even been born. I told her I fought a Hanar, I showed her what I am capable of at mother's mansion, or even when we first met in Therum's ruins. Does she truly believe that all I'm good for is hugging?"
{You are the only person I have come to trust to do things like this, Liara. To talk about things like this. Do you remember when I said you couldn't even ask about the circumstances about my synthetics?}
The reports. She never had the chance to read them. Did she want to? Was she capable of carrying even more burden in her heart right now? Curiosity pushed aside self-preservation and with a fury, she engaged her omni-tool in her haste to pull up everything that was sent to her. She refused to be pushed away. She refused to continue to be coddled. She was going to prove to Lucy that she was not just compassionate and understanding, but brave and willing to do whatever it took to help, just like all the marines aboard the Normandy. If she was part of the crew, she was going to start acting like it.
"But first... I really am so tired."
Her eyes burned from the omni-tool's illumination. She just couldn't. It was hard just to read the words to navigate the menus.
"I'll tackle this with a fresh mind and fresh eyes, as soon as I wake up."
With renewed resolve and the images pushed far away, with guilty reassurance that it was just her in the safety of this small bed, Liara wiped the streaks off her cheeks with the plush cover and pulled it down so that she could breathe. She took one last look out the port window and committed as much as she could to memory. It would be the fuel to her fire too. She was more than just a civilian, or at least, she was going to be, and she was going to prove it to Commander Pyjak.
Sleep took her with hopes held as high as her head.
Low voices slowly pulled Liara away from the dark sea, waves ebbing and flowing as they lapped at her consciousness. The beach snap-shot out of existence, the buzzing of insects extinguished, the stars disappeared, the shoulder pressed against hers fell apart and melded with the grains of sand. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at stars once more, but this time outside the port window. She laid still as she listened to the voices, to see if she recognized any, holding her breath to listen for a specific stoic soldier.
"I guess it's some of the other marines."
How disappointing. It was foolish to hope she'd awaken to the promise of tea, then gentle scolding over her bruises and how she wasn't taking better care of herself. It was a needle that slow-drilled into her heart, but she hadn't forgotten her resolve. She placed her hand on the port window as she reached for the stars, taken aback and drawing her hand to her chest when things lit on fire outside.
"We're entering the atmosphere of another planet?"
When the fire dissipated, they sailed and broke through thick cloud after thick cloud. Luscious greens encapsulated the entire terrain, even on mountains, and the breathtaking sight had her shoot up into sitting, yelping when her head knocked into the ceiling. She bit back a sigh when the voices behind her fell silent, until a hesitant marine broke it.
"A-are you okay?"
"Yes," Liara grumbled despondently, rubbing her aching crest. "I am learning against my will as to how clumsy I truly am." She twisted around and smiled nervously at the group of eyes focused on her. "Please don't tell the Commander? I will never hear the end of it if she finds out I've bruised myself again."
Three marines stared with somewhat blank expressions and confused eyes. Then one cracked a smile and looked at the others, inciting some kind of chuckle bout. "Yeah, we won't say anything."
"We could report it, that's the only way the Commander would ever find out."
Liara's heart skipped a beat and she panicked. "Please don't report it."
Another marine laughed - blonde hair, the last of the three - and slapped the shoulder of the one who threatened the report. "Relax, we're just enlistees here. Lowest of the low ranks. They're being smartasses. None of us here 'talk' to the Commander." She glanced at her friends and shrugged. "Does the Commander even talk about anything besides orders and missions?"
"If she would, it'd probably be about ordering a mission."
"Lucy talks about a lot of things," Liara wanted to defend, but she was gaining new valuable insight here.
Lucy had confessed before that she wants to learn how to build rapport with her crew. If she learned that she wasn't quite engaging in conversation with everyone on her ship, she'd surely work to rectify it. But it was getting harder and harder to listen, especially when it was all about how Lucy never stopped working. It wasn't exactly a fact Liara could deny, especially with one look over her shoulder, out the port window, she could see a mako rolling away. She was willing to bet all her credits that the Commander was in that mako.
"I couldn't have been asleep for longer than 8 hours. If, at the time, it would be 2 more hours before the Alliance were to arrive, and let's say another hour for relief operations to fully wrap up... That's 5 hours for us to arrive here, commence another mission. 5 hours for Lucy to not get the sleep she needs, because I'm also willing to bet she hasn't."
"Hey, so, uh... Asari. What's your name? I'm Addison Chase, Petty Officer Third-Class," the amiable blonde marine chuckled upon seeing the bewilderment she'd inflicted. "It's the fourth rank and the lowest non-commissioned officer."
"A-and there are... How many ranks? Oh, and I'm Dr. Liara T'Soni. Liara's fine, please."
"26 ranks, but don't sweat about learning them. S'far as I know, I don't think the aliens aboard the ship have to follow our rules. Well, besides just not snooping around or killing us."
"Yeah," the mischievous raven-haired marine chuckled. "That would be much appreciated. You know, the snooping around part." She thumbed at Addison. "Feel free to kill her."
"Hey!"
"I'm not killing anybody," Liara blurted, wide-eyed. "What makes you think I would?"
"They're still being asses," Addison rolled her eyes, "Don't take it to heart."
"Well maybe she wouldn't, but the krogan would. He's always throwing threats around," the raven-haired piped up. She gave a small awkward wave and smile. "I'm Helen by the way. The quiet one over here is Talitha, she doesn't talk much because she doesn't like to plan her murders out loud."
"This is... Quite the eclectic crew." Liara strained a small smile as she nodded. "Pleased to meet you all." She glanced around at the other empty beds. "Are we the only ones occupying these quarters, then?"
"Well, there's the quarian," Helen answered. "She doesn't come here too often though, dunno if we made her uncomfortable?"
"I couldn't possibly see how," Addison dryly remarked, smirking when she got a punch to the shoulder.
Helen thumbed her fingers as she counted the others. "There's Monica, Amina, Rosamund. Chief Williams oversees quarters 2 and 3 - which is this one - so it's a toss up as to which one she sleeps in. I don't see her in here too often though. Probably because of the aliens?" She yelped when Addison pinched her thigh. "Hey! What was that for?"
It was too obvious to ignore, and though Liara appreciated Addison's attempt, she was already aware not everybody on board would be comfortable with her presence based on the looks she'd seen back at the showers. She waved it off.
"It's alright, I'm not offended. It's only natural for there to be discomfort over the unknown, but hopefully with time and exposure, everybody will become a little more comfortable. Truthfully, it has been an overwhelming experience for me as well. It's going to take me time to get used to your species."
"Oh, I already know I'm gonna like you," Helen sniggered, "You're way better than that krogan or turian. The turian needs to take the stick out his ass, and the krogan just needs to stop threatening people to beat people with sticks."
Addison buried her face in her palm. "I apologize on her behalf."
"What, what? I'm not apologetic," Helen grinned. "Honesty is the best policy, yeah?"
"I am way out of my depth here," Liara mulled, somewhat disheartened as she observed Helen and Addison's antics, while Talitha seemed content to just roll her eyes in silence as she worked away on her omni-tool.
This was a lot to take in, and she cherished her space too. Now, more than ever, she desired her solitude. Hopefully there were places aboard the ship that she could retreat to for when she needed peace and quiet. It was a given that Lucy's quarters would no longer be that place, with how fast Liara had been kicked out. As soon as there was a fleeting moment to interject, she stole the opportunity.
"Sorry to interrupt, but is there somewhere I can go to monitor the current mission's progress? I've been trying to learn how things typically operate in the event I'll join future missions."
Addison's eyebrow cocked in a mix of surprise and confusion. "Join? The Commander has always flown solo. At most you'll be lucky if she takes you in the mako, but Chief Williams and Lieutenant Alenko usually go with her for that since they already know how to work the mako."
Liara tried not to frown. "Even for the larger missions, like the slave raid? Didn't she go with a group of paratroopers?"
"Yeah, but they had their pairs and their targets so each of them could tag the AA guns at the same time. She didn't have a partner. Never has."
Helen leaned forward eagerly on her seat. "I heard she's completed all her missions by herself, after Akuze."
"Don't gossip," Talitha finally spoke. "Scuttlebutt doesn't-"
"It's not gossip though," Helen interjected, "The reports are there, I've read some of them myself. It makes sense. Do you think you'd want to be part of a unit after watching yours die?"
"Soldiers die all the time," Talitha shrugged, "We all know that. No excuse to refuse reinforcements."
"Yeah, well, you're a fuckin' robot," Helen kicked back on her chair and balanced on the hind legs. "Easier to talk the way you are, 'til you live through it yourself."
"Hate to say it, but Helen's finally making a good point," Addison agreed. She laughed when she got another punch. "Hey, I was agreeing with you!"
"Didn't need to say finally," Helen drawled sarcastically.
Silence fell and hung over their heads like a rain cloud, and Liara craved to hear more perspectives on it all. She silently decided she wasn't quite a fan of Talitha's callous demeanour - hopefully that was just another front, and that the marine was actually a sympathetic softie underneath that rough exterior. The archaeologist swung her legs over the bunk bed and waited with bated breath, observing the expressions the group had made as some of their gazes seemed to traverse far away in reflection.
"Lucy gave me access to all reports regarding Akuze. How much information is available to the public, and how much information is uploaded on the Normandy's database? I feel like psychological profiles would be private, and perhaps her progress regarding her cybernetics."
Questions arose one after another, and Liara was burning to ask them all - but she knew she had to be selective so as not to tip off the nature of her relationship to marines that seemed to not be above gossiping, were they to have such information.
"Suppose that's why she's the best of the best, made Spectre," Helen murmured. "Just like any other stupid medal they give you. Got to fill the holes in you somehow, make it meaningful, what you've lost. Only thing I'm confused about is why the hell the Commander doesn't just take one long ass vacation, or retire early. She never stops working. How long is she gonna go on for, 'til she has nothing left to lose?"
"Probably until she dies, like any other soldier," Talitha grumbled. "You're getting way too invested in this. Worry about yourself."
"Or - here's a thought - some people are human and are actually concerned about other humans. Don't expect a robot like you to understand." Helen groaned as the chair slammed back down on all legs. "I liked you better when you were silently planning my murder."
Talitha shrugged. Liara's decision was affirmed - she was still trying to be understanding, but it was getting just a touch too impossible. Now she knew to stay out of Talitha's way, at the very least, and that Addison seemed to be the more level-headed one of the group, while Helen the emotional morale support. Strange dynamics indeed, but it appeared to be working for them. Sort of.
"Addison seems far away. Talitha is apathetic, Helen is absorbed by her feelings."
Liara decided to climb down the ladder and was purposefully slow when she approached the blonde marine, gently grasping the shoulder to squeeze. She smiled when it took a few seconds until the marine broke out of whatever thoughts were consuming her, sharp eyes snapping up.
"Sorry, were you asking me something?"
"I was hoping if you could show me around the ship, if you're free. I'm afraid I'll get lost as soon as I step out this door."
Nevermind that she'd already gotten her tour, but a few more passes certainly wouldn't hurt. Addison nodded and snapped up into standing, her movements somewhat mechanical. Helen seemed to catch on and looked concerned, prompting the mischievous marine to jump up and tail behind.
"I'll come too, gotta grab some food from the mess anyways."
Whether it was an invitation or not, Talitha silently followed along, though played off as disinterested. Liara paid no mind to it and focused on the tour as Addison showed her around and explained where things were - which turned out to be far more thorough and personal with Helen occasionally interjecting extremely important points like which toilet not to use because it tended to clog easily.
And proceeded to demonstrate said clogging by flushing a single piece of toilet paper down.
"Cutting-edge technology," Helen mocked with a lopsided grin. "I've scratched into the tops of the toilet tanks on which ones are gimmicky, so just look for a mark - can't write on them or it'll just be erased, and if the Commander spots it, she'll make us clean 'em with toothbrushes. So I've outsmarted her!"
"Yes, keep bragging about vandalism," Addison drawled, "I'm sure you'll never get caught or reported if you do."
"Well, if someone's gonna report me, they're gonna join us with the toothbrushes. So I'm sure there'll never be a report."
Liara couldn't help but chuckle at their antics - and Helen's peculiar logic. She did make good points, however skewed. They continued the tour, and when they passed by the kitchen, the group broke up with Helen and Talitha going to get food. Addison remained ever so helpful, but the second the archaeologist picked up a growl, she cut the tour short and went in a roundabout manner to release the marine from her self-duty she'd imposed herself to keep grinding out this tour at the expense of her own needs.
"I can see why she's attained the rank that she has. I can see her making a fine officer, someday."
They went their separate ways, and Liara wandered the ship. She reached the floor where Lucy's quarters were, and her gaze roved over the infirmary.
"Am I still not allowed to enter? I'd like to check on Kaleema and Neekoo at some point..."
She didn't want her next meeting with the Commander to be one where Lucy would be forced to doll out that punishment for disobeying orders though. Liara didn't know where to go next, and so wandered down to the hangar bay to see if there was any chance she could listen in on communications the way she got to during the slave raid. As she rolled down the elevator, she was taken aback by thunderous laughing, a deep hearty boom. Her eyes grew wide as a magnificent display unfolded in front of her, where the Normandy's ramp was down and showcased the planet's luscious greens. A thin barrier was erected, a sign that the atmosphere outside was not safe.
The source of laughter was pinpointed to the krogan, who stood beside Tali. The quarian's omni-tool was up, and she too was laughing along, though severely under-shadowed by the one beside her.
"It's shitting on her!" The krogan shouted with glee. "That pyjak has some quads!"
Curious, Liara briskly walked over, unsure of how to insert herself in the situation. She didn't need to agonize for long when the quarian noticed her and eagerly waved her over.
"Dr. T'Soni! You gotta see this, come, come! There's a pyjak pooping all over the Commander!"
"Oh, Goddess... Poor Lucy..."
She thought that, but neither could she stop the way her lips quivered in a smile. She ignored the guilt stabbing away at her for being so enthusiastic to join the fun, heading over on the quarian's other side to watch what seemed to be a live feed from the mako. She saw the pyjak, saw it's strenuous efforts with it's... Excrement. But it was on top of a bush.
"Where's the Commander?" Liara asked.
"Using the foliage to camouflage," the krogan rumbled through his chuckles. "Don't get it, should just charge in there and shoot up the place. Don't need to hide. But this shit is good. The humans are gettin' a real good angle on this, betcha the squishy girl is the one zooming in with the camera."
"Oh, this is definitely Ashley," Tali nodded spiritedly, "Kaidan is probably lecturing her that she shouldn't be doing this to the Commander, and she's yawning it off."
"...P-poor Lucy..." Liara had to cover her mouth to try and stifle her laughter. She pinched her nose to suffocate herself as she watched the live feed with thorough amusement. There was the subtlest of movements, almost as if Lucy was trying to swat the pyjak away, a hand poking up through the bush to frighten it off.
It always came back and twirled in circles as it tried to seek it's comfort to relieve itself.
Suddenly, a loud bang erupted and Liara jumped in her skin, eyes wide. "What just happened?"
"She shot," the krogan answered, leaning down from his towering height to squint at Tali's omni-tool. "Did she snipe her target? She's not confirmin' the kill on her radio."
Leaves flew with a flurry as Lucy shed her camouflage.
They got their answer in the form of a soldier chasing down a pyjak.
"That fucking monkey!"
Shepard stormed to the showers in her armour, no longer bothering with her breathing routine to keep calm. She'd never been this agitated before, ordinarily wouldn't have really gotten agitated in the first place. She didn't know why she was now. It wasn't the first time wildlife mistook her for every time she'd staked out. It just came along with the territory and requirements of sniping, waiting for hours until the target would reveal itself. It was natural and she'd gone through extensive training not to care, having all the techniques in the world to maintain true focus.
"But that fucking monkey wouldn't fuck off!"
Now her crew laughed at her - the aliens, mostly. The other marines knew not to, but she also knew they were behind her back. As if she wasn't already having a bad enough day.
"If Dr. T'Soni finds out about this, I'll never be able to look her in the... Eye..."
Her thoughts took a turn for the worst when realization hammered down. She stopped her stampede for the showers and had to close her eyes, suck in a deep breath. She was going to punch something if she hadn't. It wasn't like she was going to be able to look Dr. T'Soni in the eyes anymore anyways. She couldn't. Not after what she'd done.
"I deserved that fucking monkey."
But did anyone seriously deserve to be coated in so many layers of feces?
"What the hell did that thing eat? It should be taking better care of itself, there is no way it's healthy for even that fucking monkey to keep shitting for three hours."
Shepard sighed as she continued on her personal mission to the showers. She would make a beeline straight through, darken her visor, and ignore all the glances or grimaces the marines were inevitably about to make with the way she smelled. The fact that even she was still smelling it, when it was long past the time a nose assimilates and adapts to bad odours, spelled disaster for her crew.
"Whatever, it's what they'll deserve for laughing at me." Shepard grumbled inwardly. "Fucking monkey..."
As predicted, she got the reactions she knew she would when she entered the locker room. She rushed straight for the showers and ignored how some marines had sped-walked out, gagging. She charged for the nearest shower and doused herself, glaring at the rivulets of feces trailing down her armour. She'd even gone so far as to steal someone's bottle of liquid soap, squirting it all over herself. She stole bars of soap and lathered as awkwardly as she could with her gauntlets. The second she heard stifled laughter back in the locker room, her blood burned.
"Why am I feeling like this? I haven't felt like this, since..." Her eyebrows pinched in concentration, and she simply stayed under the shower as she watched the water and suds. "I can't even remember. This isn't right. I need to keep my composure, or else it'll affect my judgment calls. I have to stay focused. Write up my report. Confirm the target is deceased. The Alliance will want to know as soon as possible that I've completed the mission."
But her blood wouldn't stop burning, her skin wouldn't stop skittering as if bugs crawled along. She tried to ignore how the sensations felt strongest on her synthetic limbs, when she shouldn't have felt anything at all. A headache echoed, the Phantom loomed threateningly. She shut off the showers and marched out, desperate in her pursuit for a new objective, uncaring that she'd left puddles behind her.
In her haste to seek solitude and space - effectively eliminating any chance of bumping into Dr. T'Soni - Shepard rushed for her quarters. She'd heard something terribly concerning in the infirmary, however: laughter. Familiar laughter. Laughter that promised the chance of bumping into Dr. T'Soni, but that didn't make sense.
"I told her she wasn't allowed in there, that permission was granted to the rank of Staff Lieutenant or higher. Not that the rule is real. Had she figured that out?"
But wouldn't she be crying, not laughing? Dr. Chakwas had the dead bodies of her friends in there!
This had to be a hallucination. Shepard was compelled to demystify it, even if it meant taking the greatest risk of all by - shudder - bumping into Dr. T'Soni. Perhaps her sanity had cracked, and her laughing was a severely concerning sign that her mental health had deteriorated because of what Shepard did to her. She couldn't run away from that. She had to confront the trauma she'd inflicted, or else she was only inflicting more of it by not allowing Dr. T'Soni a chance to heal.
"Maybe I should drop her off back home, after Dr. Chakwas clears her that she's psychologically stable and on the mend."
More laughter. It pushed Shepard's feet without thought and she charged into the infirmary. What she saw both astounded and horrified her.
"T... Th-that fucking monkey..."
There were no dead bodies. Instead, That Fucking Monkey was running about with glee, where Dr. Chakwas nonchalantly sat at her worktable to plug away her reports, and Dr. T'Soni was playing with That Fucking Monkey. The comatose asari remained in their pods.
"This is a nightmare. That's the only explanation for this. Or I'm hallucinating, and I'm having a nervous breakdown and my mental health has completely deteriorated. That's the only explanation."
That Fucking Monkey jumped on Dr. T'Soni's head, who laughed and hugged the thing.
"Please let that be the only explanation."
When the asari whirled around with That Fucking Monkey in her hands, they made eye contact. Dr. T'Soni promptly stopped, the pyjak protectively cradled in her arms. She seemed stunned, then fearful, and then smiled apologetically when she followed the source of Shepard's glaring to: That Fucking Monkey.
"I thought it was concerning for her to have bowel movements for so long," Dr. T'Soni explained, "So I had sent a message to Dr. Chakwas if it would be okay to retrieve the pyjak and run tests on it."
"Turns out it was just dehydrated and needed fluids," Dr. Chakwas explained over her shoulder, her eyes never tearing away from the terminal. "I apologize for not deferring to your judgment first, Commander, but I felt it was my duty to assist, especially after all the trouble Dr. T'Soni had went through in order to capture the pyjak."
"No worries," Shepard mumbled in disbelief. She took another glance around the infirmary, confirming the dead bodies weren't here anymore. She made an immediate mental note to ask Dr. Chakwas where they were the moment they had privacy. Her gaze fell back on That Fucking Monkey, because it was the closest thing to the asari - but she couldn't very well look at Dr. T'Soni in the eyes.
"I... Could go out and release the pyjak now, before we depart from this planet," Dr. T'Soni offered.
"She sounds sad. I'm picking up on her tones a little easier now, I think. Maybe I'm misinterpreting it though? Wouldn't be the first time I've misunderstood her. I just have to look at her, and then I'll know."
But she couldn't. Shepard found herself staring at the floor instead, could feel the eyes on her - even Dr. Chakwas', who seemed to misinterpret her.
"Dr. T'Soni, I feel that would be for the best. The Commander didn't have a pleasant experience. I'm sure Lucky Fur will be just fine on her own now."
"Lucky Fur?" Shepard inquired, her head shooting up, her eyes meeting those magnetic blues against her will. That had to be it. They had biotic magnets installed in them. It had to be an asari thing, or maybe Dr. T'Soni had implants in her eyes and it was-
"Don't be an idiot," the inner voice chastised. "Desperation and denial isn't attractive. How to Flirt said so."
"Yes, I named her Lucky Fur Drapehs," Dr. T'Soni beamed with pride. "Lucky Fur or just Lucky for short."
"That is the most ridiculous name I've ever heard, even worse than Xio'Mara. It's official. I broke T'Soni. Why is Dr. Chakwas endorsing this behaviour? T'Soni needs immediate medial attention! And someone needs to teach her that she needs to stop being so nice, because she's attracting bad things with her compassion. Like me. Like That Fucking Monkey too."
"That Fucking Monkey suits him better," Shepard grumbled, crossing her arms as she vindictively glared at That Fucking Monkey. Who hissed at her. "See?!"
"Lucky Fur is a female, Commander," Dr. Chakwas noted with poorly-subdued amusement.
"Can I keep her?" Dr. T'Soni asked, and the way her eyes looked now was tearing Shepard apart. What the hell was she doing, pointing those eyes like that? They're weapons, they're dangerous, she needs to be more responsible with them, and-
"She looks so happy..." Shepard observed the archaeologist's natural chemistry with That Fucking Monkey, how playful they were the moment Lucky Fur was tossed up in the air. The soldier sighed and turned around. "It's the least I can do to make it up to her. She's going to need a companion right now, and most importantly one she can trust."
"Commander?" Dr. T'Soni piped hopefully. "Please? I'll figure out how to feed her and make sure she'll be on her best behaviour. She won't wander around or cause trouble or bother the crew or-"
"Alright, alright, you can keep it... But I'm calling it That Fucking Monkey."
It hissed as she left the infirmary. She wasn't one for rude gestures - found it extremely distasteful in fact, especially when she should be on her best behaviour too.
But never before had she felt so goddamn complete to flip her middle finger.