Fuckshow
"Yeah, you should come by after work and check out the new place." Charles lit a cigarillo as they walked. "We got a kid staying with us now, too. Talak. He's uh, he was living in the ducts, and he asked Aelianus if there was something he could do to earn some credits." He took a drag, chuckling and shaking his head. "Somehow, that turned into us more or less adopting the kid."
Cammus laughed and looked at Charles with a wide smile on his face. "I bet you'll be a good father."
Snorting, Charles hummed and stared down at the cherry of his cigarillo. "Maybe …. I'll be happy to just not be like my dad."
"You haven't really talked about him much." Cammus hummed and glanced at Charles. "How are you doing? I know you said he was an asshole, but he was your father … so, you know, if you need to talk about his death or—"
"He was an abusive alcoholic." Charles took a drag, turning his attention out at the masses.
And I killed him. Well, Ares killed him while I mostly just watched. It made my cock so fucking hard watching that sonofabitch die.
"He beat the shit out of me on a regular basis, and he was homophobic. He constantly berated me for being attracted to men, it didn't matter in the slightest that I like women, too." He let his confession fill the air, grateful Cammus seemed content to just let him talk and work through it at his own pace. "When I was a teenager … my sister and I … some shit happened, and she died. I nearly died, too. He blamed me for her death, even though in reality I was just as helpless as she was in the situation. Things got really, really bad after that. So, I ran away and never looked back."
"Spirits," Cammus said after another moment of silence. "I didn't realize it was that bad … and your sister …." He put a hand on Charles' shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry, Charles. I'm glad you got away from him."
Letting out a noncommittal grunt, Charles took a drag and said, "I wonder sometimes if it wasn't selfish of me to leave."
"Why would you think that?" Cammus' brow plates dipped, mandibles falling still when Charles looked at him.
"My mother died a while back, and I think he killed her." Charles really didn't know how to put his thoughts into words, especially without giving himself away as the person responsible for his dad's death. He took a deep breath and turned an empty palm out. "With me gone, he probably turned his shit on her. If I'd stuck around … maybe she'd still be alive."
"You're not responsible for your father's actions, Charles," Cammus said, a concerned trill to his subvocals. "Or your mother's decision to stay with him."
"Yeah …." Charles pointed at the flashing, neon sign of a restaurant as they passed by. "How about we try something new?"
Cammus hummed, obviously not buying into Charles' awkward attempt to change the subject, but he nodded and changed course for the restaurant. "Sure."
Laughing and joking as they left, making their way back to work, Charles and Cammus were completely caught off guard when C-Sec swarmed the area. Weapons drawn, C-Sec yelled for everyone to get down. Charles' heart slammed against his chest once before it seemed to stop beating altogether. They'd found him. C-Sec knew he was the Bloodbath Butcher, and it was all over. They'd arrest him—or kill him—and he'd never see Ares again.
Gunfire filled the air, bullets slamming into the planter next to Charles. He glanced over his shoulder just long enough to register a group of armed men across the way. The men were firing at C-Sec, and Charles and Cammus were caught right in the middle. Grabbing onto one another, they threw themselves at the ground, but before Charles smacked into the hard, metal surface, he felt something slam into his shoulder and chest.
Whatever hit him must've knocked the wind out of him, or maybe it was the fall. He didn't know which, but either way, he couldn't breathe. Gasping for air, he coughed, and something warm and wet splattered over his face. He reached up, trying to wipe it away, but there was … there was … there was ….
"Spirits! Charles! Charles, stay with me. Can you hear me? Charles?" Cammus' voice sounded murky, garbled, but so full of fear.
Darkness crept in around the edges of Charles' vision, and goddamnit, he still couldn't get any air into his lungs. He just … he needed …. He tried to get his hands under him, push himself up, he needed to sit up to catch his breath. His left arm felt so numb, though, it just buckled under his weight. Cammus' voice was a buzz in his ear like a fly swarming around his head, but he grabbed Charles and pulled him back to the floor. Charles coughed again, but when the wetness hit his face a second time, it splashed into his eyes, painting the Citadel in red.
Chest on fire, he was suffocating. Drowning. Every breath he tried to take just made him gasp and choke, coughing up blood. A salarian standing over him pushed him back down when he tried to sit up, panicked and confused. Holy fuck, it hurt. What happened? Jesus fuck, what happened? Where was he? Where was ...
Ares.
Something about the uniform the salarian wore made it click in his head; he was in a hospital. Shit, Ares was going to be so pissed. But how the hell did he get to a hospital, and what the fuck happened? Doctors and nurses rushed all around him, cutting his shirt off of him, stabbing needles into his arms, shining lights into his eyes. A turian in blue armor stood in the corner, a stolid look to his familiar face, but Charles couldn't quite place him. But … he reminded Charles of Ares.
I need … I need to get to Ares. Shit, what did I do? What did I do?
Fog seeped in around the edges of his mind, and he felt like he was being pulled beneath an ocean's waves. "Ares," he tried to call out, but the name slurred and jumbled as it left his lips. He raised his arm, uselessly groping at the air for the man he loved only to have an asari push it back to the cot.
"Try to be still, Mr. Fairclough," she said, and a moment later, darkness surrounded him.
Pain ripped Charles from unconsciousness, his chest and shoulder burning as if someone ran him through with a hot poker. A click, click, click sounded from somewhere nearby, something about it relaxing and comforting. He groaned, head lolling to the side as he tried to will his eyes open.
Heavy, familiar footsteps approached. "You shouldn't be trying to move."
Ares.
The raspy sound of Ares' voice somehow made the burning more tolerable, helping to clear the fog from Charles' mind. He tried again to force his eyes open, but he got nothing more than a flutter out of them before the dropped closed again, and he whimpered. He couldn't remember what happened, didn't know why he was in so much pain, but he figured he must've fucked up somehow.
"I'm sorry," he said, throat raw and dry, on fire just as much as the rest of him. Tears started to well in his eyes, and he rolled his head against the pillow. Trying to lift a hand to wipe them away only caused more agony, tearing a strangled half-scream from his poor throat.
Gentle fingers wrapped around his wrist, urging his hand back to the bed, while another hand stroked soothingly over his head. Charles felt Ares relief in the touch, and it made him feel even worse for doing something stupid enough to worry his turian. Whatever the hell it was he did.
Ares thrummed softly and said, "Stop trying to move." Sighing, his hands vanished, and it nearly broke Charles. A moment later, metal scraped across metal as he dragged something across the floor. "Do you want to try and drink something for your throat?"
Tears streaking their way down over his temples, Charles forced his eyes opened but his vision blurred over. Blinking, he turned his head, desperately seeking out Ares. Sitting in a chair next to the bed, Ares wore sandy plates with red, striped colony markings. But it was Ares. His Ares. And the turian looked like he'd been put through the ringer, exhaustion and a restless fear in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Ares. I don't know … I didn't mean …." The words stuck in Charles' throat, choking him. A sob shook him and made him cry out with a fresh wave of pain.
"Stop crying." Ares turned to the IV machine and typed into the console, and a flush of warm, numbing relief washed over Charles. "You didn't step in the way of the bullets …. I should find and shoot the fuck that shot you, though. But of course, C-Sec wouldn't have that information if it was one of them."
Bullets. He was shot. And it wasn't his fault. Fuck, the concussive shot Ares used on him the night they trained with Jasmine felt like a wasp's sting compared to the tearing, burning pain in Charles' chest and shoulder.
He licked his lips, voice cracking as he asked, "What happened?"
"Cammus said you two got in the middle of some shit between C-Sec and some other fucking idiots." Ares growled but his expression softened as he tilted his head and looked at Charles. "You sure you don't want something to drink? You sound like shit."
Licking his lips again, he gave Ares a soft nod. "Yeah, okay … my throat's raw. I can't remember any of it. Was Cammus hurt?"
"No," Ares said before standing up from his chair and going to the bedside table pushed off to the side of the room. He poured a glass of water from a plastic pitcher and dropped a straw into the cup before returning. "Want me to hold it for you?"
Embarrassed for needing the help but grateful Ares didn't seem interested in giving him a hard time, Charles nodded again. "How bad is it?"
Humming, Ares held the cup up for Charles, using a finger to keep the straw from bobbing around. "Punctured a lung. That's the worst of the two. Other shot was a through and through in your shoulder."
Charles stopped drinking when the fire in his throat died down to a smolder. He let his head drop against the pillow, watching as Ares carried the cup back to the table. Whatever drugs they put in his IV—which Ares seemed intent on keeping him filled full of, thankfully—turned his brain to cottony mush and started dragging him back into unconsciousness.
A low, angry, threatening growl tickled at the back of Charles' mind, pulling him up to the brink of awareness. He knew the sound. Knew it meant something wasn't right and knew he wanted to do whatever he could to make it better.
"I don't give a fuck what tests you want to run or how fucking important they are. You're not waking him up, so fuck off." Despite keeping his voice low and hushed, the anger in Ares' voice rang loudly in Charles' ears.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Regunis," a soft, near patronizing, feminine voice said, "but the sooner we perform the tests, the better. We need to be sure his blood is clotting correctly and there is no internal bleeding … or actual blood clots. If there are, and it's left unchecked, it could cause your mate serious, permanent damage. Potentially even kill him."
"It's not going to make a fucking difference if you wait, either. He'll be up as soon as the meds you refuse to give him a proper fucking dose of wears off." Another growl rumbled through Ares. "So, I'll be perfectly clear with you so you get it this time, you're not waking him up."
Charles sucked in a slow, deep breath. "Hey … it's alright. I'm awake." He pushed his eyelids open, shaky gaze finding Ares. He did his best to offer him a reassuring smile. "It's alright."
Ares hummed, the sound irritated and glanced back at the nurse before finally turning away from the asari. He marched back to the chair next to Charles' bed. "Happy?" he snapped at the nurse as he took a seat. "You fucking woke him up anyway."
Charles turned his palm over, letting it hang off the side of the bed despite the stab of pain, and wiggled his fingers at Ares. Taking Charles' hand, Ares lifted it back on the bed with a huff, but he didn't let go. The corner of Charles' mouth quirked in a weak, sad excuse for a smirk, and he brushed his thumb over Ares' hand.
Shifting his attention back to the nurse, Charles said, "Do whatever you need to do so I can get the hell out of this place."
The asari gave him a beatific smile and moved to the side of his bed. "I'm afraid you'll need to stay here at least a few days." She opened her omni-tool, starting at his abdomen and working her way up with the scan.
"I'm not staying here a few days," Charles said, pressing his lips into a frown.
"You are." Ares growled, mandibles tight against his jaw as he gave Charles a warning look.
Surprised, Charles opened his mouth to argue, but the look Ares gave him silenced him completely. He really thought Ares would have his back on getting out of the hospital immediately. Being there put them both at risk, and Ares had to hate the place as much as Charles did. He waited for the nurse to finish her work, intent on broaching the subject again with Ares once they had some privacy.
He pressed his memory while he waited, hazy images slowly returning to him. He'd gone to lunch with Cammus, remembered talking to his friend a little about his dad on the way. The restaurant was a jumbled mess of noise and smells, crowds, bright lights …. Then … there was C-Sec, and Charles was on the ground, drowning in his own blood.
After a few moments, the nurse closed her omni-tool, lips turned down. Apparently, she didn't like what she saw. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible, Mr. Fairclough," she said as she moved to the table where she'd laid out supplies to draw blood. "The doctor will want to make sure all your blood work results are fine, first," she said, smiling as she gestured toward his arm not already turned into a pin cushion—just one bullet hole. "I'm going to need your other arm. I just need to draw some blood."
Charles stared daggers at the woman as she moved around the bed. She stopped and looked at Ares as if expecting him to move out of the way. He tensed and looked at Charles, seeming to wait for his permission. Letting out a resigned huff of breath, Charles nodded to Ares and squeezed his hand, giving him the green light to let the asari get on with whatever the hell she needed to do.
Grunting, Ares let Charles' hand go and stood, moving mostly out of the way as the nurse crowded over. She swabbed his arm with antiseptic before applying the tourniquet. He pumped his fist a few times without needing to be asked, no stranger to the whole rigamarole after as much time as he spent in hospitals courtesy of his father. He ignored the nurse otherwise as she felt around for a vein and got her needle ready, instead he focused on Ares.
He hated the fucking hospital. Hated the nurse and the doctors, the smell of antiseptic. Hated the glaring lights, and the sounds of strangers groaning and dying in nearby rooms. He wanted the fuck out of there.
Finishing up, the nurse taped a piece of gauze to the wound and said, "The doctor is running her rounds, and she'll be in as soon as she makes her way to this side of the floor. She'll go over everything, and we'll get your lab work right away." She smiled and collected her things.
"Good," Ares said, glaring at her as she cleaned up the mess and then giving her a sharp growl. "Now you can get the fuck out and leave him the fuck alone."
She scoffed and gave Ares a stern look. "I'm just doing my job, sir."
"Aren't there more patients on this floor?" Ares flicked a mandible and jerked his chin to the door. "Go bother them. I'm sure you can find someone dying to bother with useless tests."
Huffing, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, head held high.
Charles turned on Ares the moment the door closed. "I really don't want to be here. Like … really, really don't want to be here, Ares."
"I know," Ares said, finally dragging his gaze away from the door. "But you've been shot in the lung and they obviously think you're fucked enough not to get away with getting out early. So, you will stay."
"Ares … I can't do this," Charles said, feeling his heart start to beat a little faster. "I can't stay here. It's … it just makes me remember too much bad shit." He knew he wouldn't fight it if Ares insisted again, he'd do anything for Ares. Anything. But he had to at least try to get Ares to understand how badly the hospital messed with his head.
Ares let out a long, nearly helpless sounding breath. "I can't take you home …. What if you do start to bleed out?"
Tears stung at Charles' eyes again, heart starting to pound hard enough to make the machine beep out a melody of warning. The hospital walls were closing in on him. He wasn't getting enough air, but he wasn't sure if it was the panic setting in or just the fact he had a goddamned hole in his lung. He shifted on the bed, trying to pull himself upright a little.
Giving him a sharp, disapproving grunt, Ares moved to help Charles sit. He leaned in a little closer over the bed and rumbled softly, the sound distressed. "You can't leave here because I won't be able to help you if something bad happens. This place can."
Despite knowing Ares was right, Charles still wanted nothing more than to drag himself out of the bed and go home. He wanted to be in his own bed, curled up next to Ares … even if it meant something went wrong. It had to be better than being stuck there, remembering all the times his father beat the fuck out of him bad enough to land him in the emergency room. Or … worse, the months he spent stuck in a hospital bed recovering from the brutal beating and rape he'd just barely survived. The same one Sarah didn't. Forced to endure surgery after surgery to literally stitch his asshole back together.
Ignoring the bark of pain his every movement created, he leaned into Ares, clinging to the turian's jacket. He shook and sobbed despite his best efforts. Each breath was a torment, but he couldn't slow the hyperventilating.
Ares pulled him in closer, his grip tightening around Charles just a little. He started to rumble, the sound jittery, almost frantic at first, but after a moment, it started to change. Soon, the rumble became the deep, resonate thrum he used to comfort Charles. Soaking in Ares' warmth, Charles latched on to the sound and used it as an anchor, willing himself to get a grip before the nurse came running back to check on him.
After a moment, he licked his lips and asked, "How long will you stay with me?"
Humming, Ares rested his chin on top of Charles' head. "I already told Ramona I won't be joining her in her next mission. The kid is at home with a credit chit for anything he needs, and he knows how to care for the mutt. Cammus will check in on him if you want that, too."
"He doesn't know Cammus." Charles sighed, defeat starting to take the place of blinding, irrational fear.
"I talked to him and let him know if he needed the help, he could trust Cammus. Not that the kid would ask for it, so I'm not worried about them meeting." Ares shrugged. "Ramona said she'd like to visit, but if you don't want her to, I'll let her know."
The tears stopped flowing, drying on his cheeks. His breathing slowed, yet remained painfully labored. "I don't care," Charles said before falling silent, and Ares resumed his thrum, chest vibrating against Charles.
"I think I need to eat something, I feel a little sick to my stomach," Charles said after a moment. "Will you see if they'll let me eat yet and get me something light?"
Rumbling, Ares leaned back and looked Charles over before nodding. "Anything you're craving? I think there's a lot of 'light' levo food I could find."
"I don't care, just something to help settle my stomach. Fuck, crackers will work fine." Resigning himself to the next few days of hell, Charles said, "Sitting up hurts worse." He shifted a little, trying to settle back on the pillows.
Ares eased him down and handed him the controls for the bed. "Here. If you have to call the bitch, then call her to help you." He pulled the bedside table over to the bed. "There's water, but I can find you something else to drink if you want."
Forcing a smile on his face, Charles tried his hand at humor, wanting to put Ares at ease. "Horosk sounds really good."
Ares let out a bark of laughter and nodded. "If you want to puke up everything you've eaten in the past solar year all over the room, sure."
The sound of Ares' laughter tipped Charles' smile over onto the genuine side. "I may do that soon either way. At least the horosk will kill the pain, right?"
"Or …." Ares turned to the IV console and tapped in a code—probably one he saw the nurses use—and flooded Charles with more narcotic pain relief. "I could just do that."
Snorting, Charles waved his hand, shooing Ares away from the medical equipment. The drugs hit him harder than before, bringing a fresh wave of nausea. "Don't stay gone long."
Charles jerked awake to the sound of the door opening, unfamiliar footsteps entering his hospital room. Panic swept over him as he fought to clear his head of the fog surrounding his mind, the heart monitor chirping out a new song with his increased heart rate.
"Mr. Fairclough, I'm with C-Sec," a flanged, masculine voice called. "My name is Garrus Vakarian." The turian rounded the corner just as Charles' brain caught up with the situation. "I wanted to speak with you about the incident which resulted in your injuries." Garrus looked down at Charles, mandibles fluttering. The iris of his visor contracted before returning to a relaxed state. "Do you think you feel up to speaking with me?" His nose plates twitched, brow plates dipping just a little as he looked closer at Charles.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Charles opened his mouth, ready to make some excuse as to why he couldn't speak with Garrus, but he heard the door open again.
"They gave me shit …." Ares' voice cut off with a high-pitched trill as he stopped in the doorway, eyes widening as his hands tightened around the tray he held, audibly cracking the plastic.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Garrus stared wide-eyed at Ares with his nose plates twitching wildly. The Iris of his visor spun out of control, and he shook his head. Narrowing his gaze, he said, "Sirus?" The pain and confusion, hope and betrayal rang so clearly in the turian's voice it made Charles wince.
Ares dropped the tray with a loud clatter, mandibles fanning in and out as his mouth slowly opened. "I …." His voice sounded weak, and there was a shrill whine to his subvocals.
Charles knew it wouldn't do any good, but he head to try something. "You have him mistaken for someone else, Officer."
He yelped at the sudden shock of pain as he pushed himself upright. The sound snapped Ares out of his daze, and he glanced at Charles before turning his attention back to Garrus. The look in his eyes … Ares needed him. Needed Charles' help to keep it together. He had to get to Ares.
"I …." Ares growled and cupped his temple, shaking his head once as his mandibles flicked.
Charles pulled the IV out of his arm, smacking his hand against the power button on the monitor to make it shut the fuck up. Ares looked at him again, then to Garrus, and then back and forth again. He looked so lost, torn. Terrified and confused. Charles swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Ares grunted, trying to ease around Garrus without getting too close. "You need to go. You …." He seemed almost afraid of Garrus, as if accidentally touching the other turian might cause the entire galaxy to implode. "You just need to go," he said again.
"Are you … are you serious?" Tone carrying shock, anger, and disgust, Garrus let out a low growl. "Spirits, I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead." Slamming his mandibles down against his jaws, Garrus didn't back down or move out of the way at all.
Anger radiated off the turian, urging Charles out of the bed faster. He needed … fuck it hurt … he needed to get to Ares. The pain sent his head spinning, the room tilting around him, and for a second, he thought he might just vomit all over the place after all.
"I am dead!" Ares snarled, balling his fists as he looked past Garrus to Charles before glaring at the shorter turian again. "Now get the fuck out of my fucking way!"
Obviously deeply wounded by Ares' response, Garrus growled and shook his head, but he stepped aside. "Do you have any idea what this has done to your mother?"
Feet hitting the floor, Charles swayed and started moving, each step sending lightning dancing over his vision. Ares growled over his shoulder at his cousin as he moved to Charles. Using his body and a firm grip on Charles' good shoulder to turn him around, Ares urged him back to bed.
"Of course I do," Ares said, voice low as he glanced over his shoulder again. "But you don't know shit about what happened."
Throwing his arms out to the side, Garrus raised his voice as he said, "So tell me. Spirits, Sirus, we were … brothers."
Charles grabbed onto Ares' jacket but didn't put up a fight, so long as Ares stayed next to him, he didn't care if he was in the damn bed or not. Incoherent, dazed, and in pain, he didn't really know what the hell he thought he could say or do to make any of it better for Ares. Yet, his lips kept moving anyway, the words tumbling from his lips in a jumbled mess. "It's okay. It's okay. Hey, hey, look at me. It's okay."
Panting, eyes filled with a frightening mixture of fear and anger, Ares helped Charles back into the bed. He took a deep breath, half turning towards Garrus. "I did this for all of you. I did all of it for my family. Don't act like I don't fucking care every fucking time I see or hear about everyone and can't do a fucking thing about it. You are all better off with me dead."
"Just go …." Refusing to let go of Ares, Charles looked at Garrus, internally pleading with the man to leave before something drastic happened. "Go away."
Garrus turned those icy blue eyes on Charles, cold flames of rage narrowing his gaze. Suddenly, his eyes widened and mandibles flared. "I know you … you're the human who showed up at my cousin's wedding."
Charles felt Ares' ever so slight flinch, and he tightened his grip on his turian. "I have no idea what you're talking about." His limbs trembled with a mixture of anguish, exhaustion, and adrenaline. "Why are you still here? He said he doesn't want to talk to you, and I'm not up for a goddamn interrogation at the moment. Just go the fuck away."
But Garrus had already shifted his attention back to Ares. "Who the hell is this human? Why won't you just talk to me?" His voice shifted, sounding almost sad, deflated. He took a hesitant step closer, a brief keen tearing through the air. "Please, Si."
Ares looked away, gaze focusing on the far wall of the hospital room. He sighed, shoulders dropping as he let out a sad rumble. Flicking his mandibles, he glanced at Garrus. "I couldn't let the Hierarchy know I survived …. They turned on me, and I couldn't let everyone lose faith, see the Hierarchy for what it is when mom and dad were so loyal."
Brow plates pulling in, Garrus moved a little closer, voice softer when he asked, "What do you mean 'see the Hierarchy for what it is'? They said … they said you betrayed our people."
Ares huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really think I would?" A hint of disgust filled his tone despite the fact it was exactly what he wanted his family to believe. "After all the shit I used to give you for being such a bad turian?" Putting his head in his hands, Ares slipped his talons beneath the edges of his prosthetics, ignoring Charles' feeble attempts to tug his hands away. "I presented an opportunity," he said, wincing as he pulled off the largest plate and set it on the table.
Charles let out a sad sound, heart breaking for Ares. He wanted to kiss away the pain, wanted to … to rewind time and undo the entire fuckshow that landed him in the hospital so Garrus fucking Vakarian would never draw the short stick that brought him to Charles' room. It was going to completely destroy Ares, and all Charles could do was watch the trainwreck in front of him.
"I was a victim of politics and a scapegoat so people wouldn't get a good look at how our own government could turn on someone." Ares finally turned to face Garrus, holding his arms out to the sides. "I was stabbed in the fucking back and left to burn in a pyre all because the Hierarchy wanted rights to a fucking mine."
Garrus gasped when he got a good look at Ares' scarred face, taking what seemed to be a reflexive step back. "I … Spirits, Sirus." He just stood there a moment, slack-jawed, mandibles hanging helplessly at the sides of his face. "What the hell did they do to you? I never believed you actually … I assumed it must've been some sort of mistake, and since you weren't alive to tell anyone what really happened … but I never thought …. The Hierarchy did this to you?"
Letting his arms drop and hang limply at his sides, Ares said, "A Blackwatch bitch was given the order to frame me for the massive fire, put the blame of any lost lives on a rogue agent …. I don't know why I was the one to take the knife in the back, but I was. I lived … and this old bastard helped me, but I look like this now …" He waved at his scars. "… and it isn't just my face. I can't put everyone at risk by speaking out, and the Hierarchy can only kill me if I make myself known … only, they might take more people down with me this time."
Garrus swallowed, a confused trill seeping out of him as he shook his head. Reaching up, he pressed his fingers to his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed. When he looked up again, he seemed completely deflated and utterly lost. "Spirits." Crossing the floor, he moved to stand in front of Ares, a keen filling the air around him as he reached out and put a hand on Ares' shoulder. His voice shook, sounding as if he were on the verge of a complete breakdown when he said, "I can't believe you're alive … all these years. You, hmmm, you could've told me, Sirus."
Ares' mandibles flared before he ducked his head. "No, I couldn't," he said, sighing and looking up again. "I tried to keep all of you out of it. Even with all your talk of rebellion and shit, you're still a loyal turian. I could keep you all safe from afar, but now I don't know …."
Chuffing, Garrus turned and paced away, moving to stare out the window. He shook his head. "I'm a terrible turian, always have been." Glancing over his shoulder, he looked at Ares, face the picture of seriousness. Letting his gaze sweep over Charles as he turned back to the window, he added, "I don't need you to protect me, Si. We're not children anymore."
Ares sounded almost hopeful as he said, "You'll always be the kid, Garrus."
Swallowing, Charles mentally crossed his fingers, hoping the tide was really changing and everything was going to be alright.
Garrus chuffed again, the sound light, and he turned back around to lean against the window sill, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "Hmmm. I'd say our age difference is irrelevant now, but," he said, dragging the word out with a playful flick of his mandible, "you'd probably just put me on my ass. Just like old times."
Rumbling, Ares flared his mandibles in a weak but genuine smile, and a knot inside of Charles started to relax. "Yeah …. I was wondering if you've ever gotten the hang of the feign take-down I taught you."
A grin lifted Garrus' mouth plates. "I'll have you know, I finished basic at the top of my class in hand-to-hand."
Ares snorted and shrugged. "Just means you had shit classmates," he said with a smirk before taking a moment to pull in his mandibles, expression turning serious once more. "You know this can't get out, right? No matter how much you want the others to know, they can't. This has to just be between us."
Garrus hummed, smile fading. He gave Ares an agitated flick of his mandibles and turned his gaze to the floor. "I won't tell them anything … but maybe you should." He looked at Ares again. "Even if it does put them at risk. They'd want to know."
Ares shook his head and looked away from Garrus. "I'll need time if I even want to think about it." Flicking his mandible, he glanced at Charles before Garrus. "You didn't shoot him, did you?"
Garrus scoffed. "Of course not." He turned to look at Charles. "So … what is this?" he asked, waving a finger between Ares and Charles.
Ares hummed, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a cigarette. He lit it and took a drag, waving away the smoke as he said, "You can smell better than other species, Garrus. You already know what 'this' is."
"He's mine," Charles said, holding the other turian's gaze, still not entirely sure what to make of the situation.
A smirk lifted the corner of Garrus' mouth plates. "You can't smoke in a hospital."
"And you're not hospital security and have no authority here," Ares said, shrugging as he stuck the cigarette back in his mouth—nevermind Charles was shot in the lung. "So, you can't really do anything."
"That's where you're wrong. I'm C-Sec, and smoking in a hospital is a health code violation completely backed by the law." He hummed, seeming to brush aside 'the crime' taking place in front of him and turned his attention back to Charles. "You work at Citadel Souvenirs, right?"
"Yeah," Charles said, taking Ares' hand again and tugged. When Ares looked at him, he said, "You threw my food on the floor."
"You can still eat it," Ares said, taking a drag and heading to the broken tray. "Most of it is in packaging and this is a hospital floor, so it's the cleanest shit you'll ever drop your food on."
Charles didn't bother to argue the fact that more piss, shit, and blood ended up smeared and splashed all over hospital floors than anywhere else. Sure, it was supposed to be a sterile environment, but if that was true, no one would ever die from a sepsis infection they developed in the hospital. He knew the truth of the matter better than most.
"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd want me getting out of the bed again, so …. Point made." Charles smirked, watching Ares retrieve what was salvageable.
Ares picked up the tray, stacked things on it, and brought it over. Dropping it on the bedside table, he dragged the table back over to Charles. "They said this will work, but it all looks like shit to me, so good luck."
"It's a hospital. It is all shit." Charles grumbled, reaching for a sealed pack of yogurt. "Which is only one of many reasons I don't want to be here."
"Too bad," Ares said around his cigarette before flicking ash into one of the empty cups next to the water pitcher. He glanced at Garrus and lifted a brow plate. "You smoke?"
Garrus shook his head. "No, and you shouldn't either." He smiled, mandibles fluttering. "Spirits … I still can't wrap my head around it."
Ares watched Charles eat for a moment, humming before he nodded. "I guess it's harder for you …. I've kept track of everyone, just didn't want to reach out."
Garrus jerked his head in Charles' direction. "He was at Maela's wedding reception for you, wasn't he?"
Ares snorted, giving Charles a brief glare. "He wasn't supposed to join the reception, just watch."
"She insisted," Charles said with a pout, "and I was drunk. I did it for you." He huffed, shoving more yogurt into his mouth. "You needed it."
Ares hummed but didn't respond, turning his attention to flicking ashes in the cup.
Garrus flared his mandibles and shrugged. "There really isn't any way she would've let him get away with not joining."
"I know." Ares took a drag, watching the smoke as he blew it toward the ceiling. "It was just risky."
"Hey, I asked you before I went down there. I told you I'd try to get close enough to snag some pictures or something … it would've been rude to just ignore her when she waved me over." Charles set down the rest of his yogurt, nausea hitting again, souring the saliva in his mouth. "I didn't use my first name, and I showered with all that foul smelling crap at the hotel before I left."
"I know," Ares said again, taking a deep drag.
"For what it's worth, he didn't really do anything to draw attention to himself." Garrus pushed off the wall. "I'm technically still on the clock, so … Mr. Fairclough—"
"Please don't call me that," Charles said, resting his head back against the pillows and closing his eyes to take slow, steady breaths.
"Ah, hmmm." A moment later, Garrus said, "Sorry, Charles, I really do need to know what information you can recall from the shooting before I go."
"Nothing, really." He opened his eyes again and met Garrus' gaze. "I just remember leaving the restaurant and then the next thing I know, there's cops everywhere, and some asshole started shooting."
"I see." Garrus nodded, closing his omni-tool. "Well, if any other details resurface, please contact me. I'll forward you my contact information." He turned to Ares. "I'm sorry … I have to go or I'll get reprimanded again …. Don't disappear on me, Si. Keep in touch, let's go get a beer together or something."
Ares paused a moment, watching the smoke drift off the tip of his cigarette before he nodded and looked at Garrus. He rumbled and watched the other turian a moment before huffing softly. "Yeah, you get going. Don't want your dad on your ass."
Garrus chuffed. "I'd laugh if it wasn't so damn true." Moving over to give his contact info to the both of them, Garrus stopped and squeezed Ares' shoulder again. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you, the Hierarchy be damned."
Ares stuck his cigarette in his mouth, offering his arm to Garrus. "I'll admit that it wasn't anticipated … but … but, yeah, I think I'm starting to come down from the initial … shit from seeing you."
Garrus chuckled, clasping Ares' forearm. "How do you think I felt?"
Rumbling in amusement, Ares smirked. "You never were one for surprises."
"Surprises could mean an ambush." Garrus let go, taking a couple of steps back, dragging his feet as if he really didn't want to leave. He turned to glance at Charles and tipped his head toward Ares. "Take care of him."
Charles snorted, following it with a pained groan. "Yeah."