.
Now I'm trapped in this memory
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake, slow to react
Even though you're close to me
You're still so distant, and I can't bring you back
It's true the way I feel
Was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
I'm with you
You now I see
Keeping everything inside
You now I see
Even when I close my eyes
Linkin' Park - With you
Chapter 11 ~ A Fever inside
I was running, but there was no escape.
Nightmarish creatures followed at my heels, sliced at my calves, my back, my arms; their claws dripping red with my blood. Like fat ruby drops the blood splattered the ground behind me. I was too slow. They would catch me! Ahead. Somewhere ahead was safety! If I got there… I ran faster, determination rushing through me. I wouldn't break. I was running as hard as I could, yet the tantalizing haven merely crawled closer. Sweat broke out along my body. I was almost there, this promising safety only a few paces away. And abruptly, it was gone. No! The monstrosities closed in on me in a blink. I tried to flee, but they pulled me down, a tide of teeth and claws surging all around me. Something drilled into my mind like a spike, trying to wrestle away control and –
I woke with a start, grappling frantically with orientation.
The haze, which molded dream and reality into one, dissolved. I took an unsteady breath. The clock on the nightstand was flashing a happy 400 at me. I groaned. The barrel of alcohol I had downed – let alone the shot of ryncol, Gardener used for especially persistent pots – should have put me under a coma three weeks from now, but no, my granted sleep barely pushed it beyond the three hour line. My stomach heaved. Perhaps I shouldn't have skipped dinner either.
Sluggish, I got up and shuffled to the bath cabin. The abrupt illumination jolted a stab of pain through my lids and into my skull. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, cursing. Perhaps, I felt… not so well. I shivered. Damn, but I was freezing. Slowly, I adjusted to the light and grimaced at the mirror. Uhg. Someone had dragged me back to hell when I hadn't been looking. The maw's acid had left an ugly red scar that bisected my left brow. My eyes were blood-shot; khol and mascara had smudged into thick black smears around them and… was there a grayish touch to my skin?
Suddenly, the face in the mirror shifted sideways – no, I was losing my footing as my sense of balance went off the rails without warning. I grappled for the edge of the metallic sink and barely managed to stem my fall. My stomach lurched and I retched, acid and bile burning up my throat. Help. My innards felt like they were dissolving. I puked so hard, I almost fainted. After a long, miserable moment, I fumbled for the faucet. Cool water ran across my wrists. I splashed my face until I steadied. A good thing we were over two days away from our next destination. The way my hands shook, I wouldn't be able to hit a yahg with a shotgun if it sat right in front of me.
Fuck me. This was inacceptable. What kind of sorry-ass excuse of a Commander had I turned into?
Disheartened, I returned to my cabin and put on some sweats, then made my way down to the Crew Deck. It was scary how fast my body was bouncing back already. My stomach rumbled. Grilled steaks would be nice. Or strawberries. Or fresh eggs. Or just anything not pasteurized to death. Oh boy.
From the Mess came soft clatter. I sneaked around the elevator. In the dimmed lights, a slim figure roamed behind the counter, stirring in a large bowl with a spoon. Then she leaned down and pulled a metal tray from the oven. I smelled a whiff of roasted nuts and sugar. It was Jack and she was… baking? In the middle of the night? Was this some kind of ryncol-ridden nightmare?
I snickered and entered the Mess. In many aspects, Jack was very much like me. Or rather, like the me I would have grown into had I stayed with the Reds; an instinct-driven maniac with a foul mouth and a defect moral compass. Then again it wasn't exactly surprising that you just had to get fucked by the world long and hard enough to eventually stop caring for anything but plain survival. As usual I shrugged off the lingering guilt that crept in whenever Jack reminded me of my past. It had been selfish as fuck to abandon the Reds head over heels. And yet I simply couldn't bring myself to regret taking the one-way ticket Anderson had offered me on this rainy April morning.
Oblivious to my musings, Jack looked up from spreading a sticky mass of minced nuts, grains and dried fruits on a second tray, her menacing scowl daring me to comment. Was there a hint of embarrassment?
I reached out for the metallic frame of one of the bar stools by the counter and an electric jolt went through me. I grunted and rubbed my fingers. Goddamn biotics. Manipulating mass effect fields inevitably increased the electrical potential your body could store – and that was exactly why all strong biotics were lousy techs. Discharging into a mainframe while trying to disarm the rogue VI ready to blow up your ass? Not so cool.
I sat down and watched her shoving the second tray into the oven then cut the backed mass on the first in small squares with a knife. Another bunch of round ones sat cooling on a plate on the counter.
"Cookies?" I asked, barely able to keep the amusement from my tone. Despite Jack's obvious competence in the kitchen, it was just too hard to get rid of the image of her acquiring her meals at gunpoint.
Her eyes narrowed. "No. High-nutrition field rations. Nuts, oats, dried fruits, mainly acai; and I use this specially refined asari honey. Tastes horrible, but gives four times the calories of a standard energy bar. I've the bloody feeling I better stock up before you're working me to death," Jack informed me in her usual brusk tone that told me we were all fluffy rainbows and happy unicorns. Then she added with a scowl, "And if you want my opinion: it was a dumb-fuck mistake to let Vakarian off the ship." She dropped the squares into a metal box. "Even I can see that you need more military trained bodies and less serial killers."
I snorted. Do tell. "Uh-huh. It wasn't as if I had much of a choice. Couldn't just tie him down and nail his ass to the deck, y'know?"
The biotic shrugged in the nonchalant way of people considering tying and nailing a perfectly legitimate course of action. Then her expression shifted into a very distinctive leer. Oh boy. And since I rather not wanted to know where her mind ended up following that specific line of thought, I hurried on with the first thing that popped up in my head.
"So. Massani, eh?" I asked in total innocence and the cookie baking psychopath with the big-ass knife gave me such a dark glare, I would have certainly keeled over fainting if I hadn't been trained to kill things for a living.
"Fuck you, Shepard," she growled. The oven's timer beeped once and she tossed the knife on the counter to take out the tray. "Don't you have someone else to bug?"
I looked around. "It's four in the morning; so, no? Besides, I actually wanted to fix myself something to eat."
"Grab a few cookies. You look like shit," she said while starting to portion the second load.
"I thought these were 'High-nutrition field rations'?" I quipped back.
"Hey, they are whatever it takes to make you and your fucking wiseass… ass… arrg, just go away, Shepard."
I snickered and reached out for one of the round cookies. Jack pulled the plate away.
"You don't want those," she said quickly and set the box in front of me instead.
I took a few squares with a thankful nod and bit into the first cookie. There was a strangely bitter aftertaste due to the asari honey but aside from this the thing was really tasty. Hah. Who would have thought?
"Why not?" I asked, wolfing down the rest of my cookies.
This time I was certain the biotic was flustered.
"They're loaded. For EBB," the tattooed woman said and started to store the corpus delicti into a second box.
I arched an eyebrow and licked the last crumbs from my fingers, feeling… well, not exactly sated but nourished enough to get through the rest of the night. "EBB?"
"Extra boost of badassness," Jack admitted. "Red Sand." I frowned and, pointing at me with the knife, she added, "Shut up, I know what I'm doing and right now I'm just improving our survival chances. If you rather want to wait for those Cerberus bastards to pull your exhausted ass out of the fire line, fine! But they won't touch me!" She hissed, left hand clenching the box, knuckles white. "Never again!"
Gee, that escalated quickly. I kept silent. I had already learned the hard way that any verbal expressions of sympathy – or worse, pity – would only tip her over the edge raging.
After a few moments she seemed to have pulled herself back from the cliff and a remote, almost hopeful cast edged into her expression.
"Hey, you never asked why I wanted access to those files." She finally stated.
I shrugged. "You seemed to have good reason. Besides, it's Cerberus. I'm not sure if I do wanna know."
She inhaled, nostrils flaring. Oh she had gotten the hint. She just didn't give a flying fuck. "With that data… I'm finally able to find these assholes. The scientists. The guards. And those fucking doctors! Each and every one of them and they all gonna pay!" Her gaze fastened on me, a desperate madness glittering in her brown almond-shaped eyes. "I will hunt them down, wherever the fuck they hide. Wherever they try to live their shitty little lives. And when I catch them they'll beg and wish they hadn't fucked with this kid's head."
"Ah, and here I assumed it was just to locate the facility, coax me to fly there, plant a big fat Cerberus-funded nuke in the middle of this shit-hole; that sort of thing." At least that was what I would have done. "But sure. Count me in, I'm game for any action."
I really meant it. Somewhere in my head reasonable-Shepard sniffed at my hypocrisy, but I ignored her. This was something else entirely. They had tortured those kids, for god's sake. Plus, I highly doubted that anything in this universe could damage that one any further.
Surprise replaced anger and she tilted her shaved and tattooed head. "What's this now? A trap? Or are you just tired of being the queen of the girl scouts?"
I leaned my arms on the counter, flashing her my little deranged smile.
"Let me tell you a story, Jack. Have you ever been in New York?"
~V~
I woke and instantly regretted it.
My head throbbed with a dull pulsing ache that seemed to spread from my jaw to the tips of my fringe. I grimaced and carefully lifted my forehead from the cushion. When the room stopped spinning I found myself looking at an unfamiliar environment. It was a hotel room. But not mine. Too expensive furniture.
Oozingly slow, details from last evening leaked through the haze of my fogged mind. I had been on my way to get properly wasted in some club in the lower wards. Wanted to forget things for a while.
And then Selene was suddenly there. An old, let's say, friend, back from the days when my youth and my achievements in the military made me foolish enough to really believe in my own invincibility.
I frowned, trying to remember what story I had told her last evening. Whatever it was it made her first sad and then eager to cheer me up. Despite my better knowledge more drinks had followed.
Stifling a groan, I dumped my head back into the cushion.
Never missing an opportunity to burn our fingers, are we?
Or rather, both of my hands in that case. Selene was a dangerous companion. Not just because she was Cabal, but because she was the kind of woman who always tried to sell you an illusion. The illusion that one day she could be yours. And there was a time when I had been naïve enough to walk into this trap as well. Back then I had actually believed to have found something true, something that was more contenting than a hundred nights spent in a hundred different arms could ever be. Meaning. But in the end? Anger. Hurt. Scorched earth. And yet –
– and yet the next thing I remembered was that her dancing body had been flush with mine. She had nipped my neck, then whispered an offer, and I? I begged her to make me forget…
I turned around and sat up, the sheet slipping down my chest. I rubbed my neck but there was absolutely no leeway for any excuses now that I was confronted with the full vista of Selene's naked back; the deep red tattoo with the stylized moon and lightning of the cabal unit taking up the greater part of her left shoulder plate, contrasting so nicely with her light, almost silvery body plates. Just as I remembered, even down to the faded scar next to the tattoo where I had bitten her in a fit of juvenile foolishness. Just as I remembered and at the same time… different.
As I sat in bed watching her sleep, I realized something else. Once the reminder of our time together would have touched something in me. Would have warmed a deeply hidden part of my heart and sparked that tiny piece of foolish affection all first loves commandeered. Not so now. I had changed so much from the youngling I used to be that no more but the faintest echo of his passions had survived. Too many wrong decisions. Too many shattered hopes. Too many times kicked in the face by life. Instead there was just a tired, callous emptiness.
Perhaps the real illusion was to believe that things could actually be any different.
In silence I got up and searched through the littered cloths for mine. I put on my pants and pushed the balcony's doors open to step outside. A soft breeze, artificially kept at an unchanged slightly cool temperature, moved the air. I rested my forearms on the rail and watched the Citadel's early morning traffic. Thinking of nothing for once.
My peace wasn't lasting for long, though.
A mere few minutes later I heard soft footsteps behind me. A hand brushed down my spine. Teeth bit playfully at my shoulder.
"Sorry. Not in the mood." I said without turning.
"Ah, but I could make you…" Selene said undisturbed and with something suspiciously resembling a purr. Then she paused and leaned against the rail to my left. He tone became more serious. "Still thinking about the other woman, hmm?"
I gave a start and stared at her. She hadn't bothered to dress, giving me and whoever would look at the balcony an unobstructed view of the lithe body she was so proud of. And stunning she was. My gaze slid over the even, almost delicate plates of her face; the graceful arch of her back, her slim waist, her long legs, shaped by years of serving with the Cabal. Biotics were rare among my kind and often received with a certain wariness, yet unlike most others she had always embraced her uniqueness with all her heart. Confident. Unashamed. It was what had drawn me to her from the very beginning, which should have drawn me now, but –
Selene snickered, clicking her claws against the rail. "Pleazze, for the Ancestors' sake, Garrus. You really believe a girl doesn't notice if the guy she's sleeping with thinks about someone else?" Then with another look at my face she sighed and added, "You've always been a terrible liar. Especially regarding your feelings."
Avoiding her prying eyes, I stared once more at the sky traffic ahead, and yet I couldn't prevent her words from stirring up this other memory of last night…
With one hand I'm pinning Selene's arms down over her head and into the cushions. Doubt flickers on the edge of my mind and is swept away by the new vicious light that enters her gaze. She pushes her middle violently towards me. Demanding. Needing. Right or wrong; both lose their meaning somewhere between her little feral growl and her plates sliding sensuously against mine. Yes. She's here and she's scorching away the cold emptiness inside, leaving nothing but mindless heat in its wake. In response I tighten my grip on her wrists and run my free hand down the side of her neck, grazing one of the few sensible parts of her body ever so slowly. She inhales sharply, her body tensing in sweet anticipation.
And in front of my inner eye the cabal suddenly changes.
Rough silvery plates turn into even pale skin. Pliable reddish lips smile at me mischievously. Sun-colored hair tangles around her head, begging me to twine my fingers in it. I'm furious at the sight of her and at the same time I'm aroused as hell. The beast living in all of us roars; strains against the chains, its need the catalyst that blurs the fine line between reality and sweet fantasy ever further. Each detail so clear, so deeply etched into my memory. Her unblemished, soft-skinned belly. The feel of her face below my fingers as I marked her on Tuchanka with our blood. The memory of her scent fills my nostrils and I spiral further and further away.
I see the challenge in her gaze and it fans my desire into a raging wild fire. Instincts take over and I release her arms; grabbing for her delicate waist, lifting her up, thrusting into her. Not enough. I move faster and Selene gasps, her hard body flexing around me, yet I barely register, my intoxicated mind trapped too deeply within the dark desire.
"Garrusssss…"
Selene's moan cuts through my own, yet for me it's a clear, melodic voice; a voice free of any disharmonies.
Thick, hot blood pulses in my veins to the rhythm of my frantic heartbeat. Teeth bite into my shoulder. Clawed fingers dig into my back. Harder, yes. Pleasure and pain; becoming one as I pretend to claim the body of the vanguard who had saved me so many times in so many ways.
I come, hard and violent; but instead of Selene's cerulean irises flecked with gold, all I see are huge sea-green eyes, shining with rapture...
Shepard's eyes.
With a groan I bump my forehead against the rail. I should have never left the Normandy. There I would have just felt sick. Now I felt sick and pathetic.
"I'm an idiot," I said without looking up. "You didn't deserve that."
"No, no idiot. Just a little messed up." Selene chuckled and nudged my side with her hip. "Hey. Don't worry. One way or the other we are all damaged goods."
I grunted in agreement then regarded her sharply. "If you knew. Why…?"
The woman I had once believed to love shrugged. "You seemed in need of a distraction. I just wanted to help. For the sake of the old times," she added with a naughty, not-so-selfless grin. "And I certainly enjoyed your… spirit."
... and bottom line that was the trouble with her. Neither her beauty nor her cunning mind could hide that ultimately her heart held room only for one love – and the name of that love was Selene.
"I see," I said curtly. I had no interest in giving her the impression that I wanted to revive the past in any way. This dream had died a painful death many years ago.
Selene looked at me for a long time, considering. Then the biotic lifted her hand as if to touch the damaged side of my face – and dropped it. Her voice became serious. "You've changed a lot since I've seen you last. Not much left of the old Garrus I know, hmm?"
I took a deep breath. Somehow, the air seemed too fresh and too clean. "No. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Selene sighed. "Guess it's the way things are supposed to be…"
"So… no hard feelings?"
"No hard feelings," Selene agreed with a tiny smile and added softer, "Alright then. Soooo, you really do like her, huh?"
"Yes. No. It's complicated…" I said, staring again at the hands that had shot the woman who was riding me through more emotional conflicts than any other before.
She put a fever inside me – and I am cold since I left.
"I botched it. Badly. I don't think there is any going back…"
"Nonsense, Garrus. Just go to her, sort things out and, you know, make up." Her voice shifted. "You're good at making up."
I snorted. "Yeah. This… It's not like that."
"Ohh Spirits, just one lousy credit every time I hear-"
"She's a friend, okay! Nothing more, and that's all there will ever be. End of story."
I remembered too well how she had avoided Liara's tentative attempts and chased Alenko out of her room the night before Ilos. It was quite clear that she had been looking neither for a mate nor some casual distraction. Only… since she returned from the dead, had seemed to be more and more the operative word.
"Sure, Garrus. Just a friend…" Selene said, but again a tiny smile betrayed what she actually meant:
Garrus Vakarian, you're a fucking liar.
~V~
Hell had literally broken lose all around me.
Haestrom was crawling with geth, a Colossus was playing piggy-in-the-middle, an injured quarian marine was yelling at us and I crouched behind a low wall cursing myself at least for a thousandth time that I'd chased Garrus off with my stupidity. I had gotten so used to the sniper watching my sixes that his absence now had me on edge. It felt just off and this was the kind of nonsense that usually ended with nothing less than a bullet to your head.
An explosion shook the wall before me. I crawled over to where the quarian, Kal'Reegar, had boxed himself in. Twenty yards to our right Massani and Grunt tried to drown the attacking geth troops in barrage fire. The rest of the team was with Miranda and Jacob, ensuring that we would have a way out if we ever got through to Tali who had locked herself in Haestrom's observatory behind two foot of steel.
The Colossus turned towards the krogan and the mercenary. Artillery boomed and sent them into hiding. Kal'Reegar hoisted his rocket launcher. Unleashed another missile. The Colossus's shields flashed and the missile exploded, forcing the huge geth to reassess and break its attack. It was all the effect we would get. Thanks to the unusually strong shields the explosion had barely left a scratch on the shiny metallic alloy. Funny, but my shields had simply stopped working due to Haestorm's dying sun. Oh yeah, the great mystery of the universe.
"We have to take out the Colossus first, otherwise we'll be nailed down forever!" Kal'Reegar shouted over the muzzle flashes.
"I'm on it! How are you holding up?" I glanced at the rupture in his enviro-suit.
"Fair enough. The prospect of dying in the middle of a battle because of an infection can be an incredible motivator."
Hah, I already liked this guy.
"Just stay down, cover our backs, and make a damn effort to stay alive. I'm not telling Tali that I lost the last member of her team! Got it, soldier?" I shouted back.
"Yes, Commander," he said and with a last nod, I started onwards.
Keeping low, I advanced to the Colossus from the left. I caught up with Massani and Grunt, the krogan complaining once more that 'shooting nuts and bolts' was no fun at all.
"Tactics?" Massani barked and eyed the gargantuan geth belligerently.
"I'll go near and disable the shields, if necessary, manually. Just keep the other geth off my back. As soon as the shields are down, you pond at the thing until it dies." What a helluva plan. Where was my medal and my parade for devising such pinnacle of brilliancy?
For a moment the mercenary seemed about to object, but then he just loaded the rocket launcher we had the smart sense to bring along and spit over his shoulder for luck. He was definitely learning the ropes. "Simple enough."
I peeked over to the Colossus. The self-repair protocol unreeled. Our time window had started. And it was disheartening short. I gave my squad a last thumbs-up and vaulted over the rail, creeping towards the massive metal chunk from a blind angle – or so I hoped. You could never be too sure with synthetics. I readied my omni-tool. The regular way to overload a shield was using a directional EMP device connected to your armor's battery packs. Sure, there was always the guerilla method of sticking your biotically charged hands into the thing and fry the whole electronic, but yeah, there were even some limits to my madness.
I was twenty yards away when the Colossus got back online with a low drone. I pointed with the omni-tool towards the geth. Released the pulse. The shields flickered and then… nothing. They just resumed glowing at me mockingly. Great. The sun had fried not only my shields' electronics but had also drained the batteries as well.
I sneaked closer, the geth's attention caught by another of Kal'Reegar's missiles. Ten meters. One attempt left. Then I had no other option but to feel up the synthetic's private parts.
Closer.
I readied the EMP once more.
Please don't turn...
I could almost touch the metallic body, gleaming softly in the sun. And for once the universe relented. I unleashed another EMP. Tried to will the shield away with my powers of suggestion. They flickered once, twice, and dropped.
I jumped backwards. The Colossus's sensors had finally picked up on me and it started to move in my direction. I dove for the nearest cover. A missile went off. The spot where I'd been standing exploded in a spray of concrete – and then the first of our rockets found its target. In rapid succession the impacts shook the metal beast. Thunder boomed. Again. And again. There was a moment of silence and then a deafening roar reverberated through the courtyard. I was still too close, the shock wave of the geth's detonation caught me.
My body slammed against the nearest wall.
I howled.
Blinding agony bit my left leg. The intensity almost rendered me unconscious. I slid down the wall. I thought I screamed again but couldn't be sure. Mind numb and vision blurry with tears, I looked down. A piece of metal, the length of my hand, had speared through my thigh. It hurt like fuck. I leaned against the wall to stay upright and tried to examine the wound. Hot pain seared up to my spine in a way only shredded nerve cords and muscles could justify. Godfuckingdammit!
Had it hit the femoral artery? There seemed to be not enough blood, but it was hard to tell because I almost lost my sorry excuse of a breakfast to the invading nausea. If it had… Five minutes and all sorrows would be over.
Around me the gunfire was ebbing, as the last geth fell to the remaining humanoids. Slowly I inched upwards with my back pressed to the wall, pushing myself up with my right leg. Five minutes. How long was I already struggling here?
In that moment, Massani and Grunt appeared, towing a battered Kal'Reegar along. He had stayed put. Despite the pain I smiled. The small favors. Massani ran over to me and slung his arm around my waist before I could fall, thankfully forgoing any stupid questions that would have only robbed me of my precious concentration. I needed every little drop just to hold on.
We approached the observatory. Every step was agony.
"Keelah! Shepard!"
Tali's shout from the entry. I lifted my too heavy head to watch her dart towards us. Warm was pooling inside my left boot.
"I'm okay, Tali. It's just a scratch…" At least that was what I wanted to say. It actually came out more like "Mm'kay, 'ali. Ss jus'a'sctch…"
Despite the mercenary's death grip on my torso, I crumpled to the ground.
Some glorious rescue commando…
The last thing I saw was my pale face's reflection in her violet mask.
~V~
I caught my clenched fist a fraction before it slammed into the console that came with my hotel room.
"Are they sure?" I tried to force calm into my words. It wasn't working. All the shitty episodes that had happened after I pulled that blasted trigger on Sidonis had rubbed me raw.
Silence. Then my sister said, "Yes. They even ran the tests for a second time to be certain. The Corpalis syndrome had caused the break down. It's finally here…"
"How much time does she have?"
"A year. Perhaps two. Perhaps longer. It's still too early to make any predictions. And Mom… You know how stubborn she is, but they say… They say once the mental degeneration has kicked in, it's irreversible..." Solana's voice broke off. We had played this through many times but now that it was real… Even expecting the worst could only prepare you so far.
"Where are you now?"
"Already at home. Got the clearance for the shift to Cipritine quite fast. Garrus…"
Elbows propped on the edge of the comm-slash-entertainment terminal, I caught my head between my hands. "I know, Sol… But –"
"Don't you but me, Garrus Vakarian! You don't call, you don't text, you just let us sit here and guess if you're okay! You promised to come home; that was when? A few weeks after this super-secret mission of yours? Oh wait, that's been two years ago. What is wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry. It's… things fucked up badly… I needed some time to clear my head."
On the other side of the line something thrashed against a wall. "Two years? Don't give me this rotten garbage! Do we mean so little to you that not even now we can have your attention?"
"You know it's not like that!" I hissed and glared at the console's blank screen. Showing her my damaged face wouldn't have made this any easier.
"Then come home! Please!"
I rubbed my face, shoulders slumping down. This was going to be hell. Perhaps yesterday I would have considered flying back to Palaven, but today? Just this morning I had received a message from Tali. She was with the Normandy now. Demanding to know why I wasn't. And they would return to the Citadel in a few days…
"I'm sorry. But I can't. Not now. There is this… thing I have to see to first." I cringed. Shallow bordering to the outrageous, even to my own ears. But there was still Professor Solus. All issues with Shepard aside, the salarian was my best shot for help. My only shot. I had to get back.
"And here we go again…" she sneered. "What's it this time? Has some random criminal once more escaped his just punishment? Spirits, Garrus, will you never grow up? Playing hero isn't a life concept! You're not even with C-Sec any longer. You –"
"Do you think this is easy?!" I yelled, then pushed away from the console and started pacing the small hotel room. "That I don't wish to pack my gear and come home?" I took a deep breath. Shouting at my sister never got anyone anywhere. "Look, this really is important. I have given my word. There's too much at stake to turn away; it's my responsibility –"
"And what about the responsibility towards your family?" She interrupted acidly.
"I'll do what I can to help you from remote."
My sister sniffed. "That's about the dumbest crap I've ever heard."
I said nothing. Just clenched my fists until my palms started to burn.
Perhaps Solana was right. Perhaps I was running head-on into another mistake just to satisfy my selfishness. Just so I could chase further after this ridiculous sensation of purpose I felt while gunning outside the lines with the Normandy crew.
And what if the Professor can help?
Finally I heard my sister sigh. "Garrus? I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to take it out on you, but it's been a rough day. Dad pulled some strings with Fedorian but even his specialists are pretty much useless."
"I can't, no, I refuse to believe that sitting on our hands is the only option left."
"Well… off-world they might have a treatment to slow it down, but those salarians are expensive as hell. So, if you haven't robbed a bank or won the lottery recently…" she trailed off.
"No, but let me see what I can do."
"That's a nice thought but it's alright," she said in resignation. "We will handle this, somehow. Just… try to come before it's too late, 'kay?"
"Will do. I'll keep in touch as often as I can. And Sol?"
"Ray-Ray?"
Tell them I'm sorry. For the things I said. For never being the son they wished for… "Just… Take care."
"Okay. You too."
I broke the connection.
~V~
Three days after my unfortunate encounter with a piece of geth junk, I sat in the Med Bay on one of the beds, waiting impatiently for Dr. Chakwas to examine my thigh. Come to think of it, it couldn't be that bad. I mean, it even wasn't hurting that much…
The bandage came off and revealed a ten centimeter long, ugly ragged wound, standing out on my perfectly smooth and unmarred skin like a bloody corpse in a picture of winter wonderland. It also looked somewhat infested. Frustrated I scowled at the injury then tried to flex my muscles. They complied with the nasty feeling of tissue straining inside and the Doc muttered under her breath. I caught 'stubborn' and 'sedative' and stilled. Better not to provoke any unnecessary incidents. Besides, in another day or two I would probably be able to walk again anyway.
What if someone hacked off my arm? Could we just stitch it back on with a piece of parcel string and call it a day?
"Stop that." Dr. Chakwas said and returned to examining the suture's fringes.
"What?" I returned guardedly.
"You're brooding again. I can't tell it often enough; with a more positive –" She was cut off by Miranda strolling in.
I rolled my eyes, just glad that I was spared another one of the Doc's notorious lectures on irrational optimism. Kinda hard to be optimistic when about everything got bombed to hell around you.
"Hey Miranda," I said, waving. "All running smoothly?"
"Good to see you up and kicking. Wouldn't want my hard work with you to be ruined."
Her smile said she was just being funny (which she was not), and I flinched inwardly. Nobody managed to remind me of all the pretty little things I would have rather liked to forget as unerringly as Lawson.
"How are the implants doing, Doctor? Any signs of rejection?" My dark-haired XO asked in her usual business-like manner and took the datapad from the Doc.
"As far as I can judge from a distance her body seemed to have adjusted well enough." The Doc finished fixing my new bandage and bestowed me with a reproachful scowl.
I grimaced and Miranda nodded. "Let's run a full deep scan. We have to exclude that there is any interference with her neurotransmitters."
The two turned and looked at me like two hawks spotting the same mouse.
I raised my hands; perhaps a tad too defensively. "Woah, I'm fine." Uh-huh. Fine. Like Fucked in Extreme.
"Don't worry, Shepard. It won't hurt," Miranda said.
I arched my brow at her. "Hurt? I don't give a flying fuck about pain. I-"
The door opened again and I craned my neck.
Wanna know what's even worse than having a doctor and a research director fussing about your body, ready to draw their dissection knives? Exactly. Two doctors and a research director.
"Ah, Shepard. There you are," Mordin Solus said in his clipped way of speaking. Then he glanced at the datapad in Miranda's hand and whatever else he had wanted to say went straight out the proverbial window. "Spinal attached trauma module?"
"Sort of." Miranda said, excited. "It's a special prototype developed by the best medical engineers Cerberus has. It wasn't designed to dispense medigel but a tiny amount of nanoparticles that stimulates the body's own defenses and bolsters them up. It cuts down the healing process to a fifth."
Is it just me or do you also get this fuzzy feeling if someone uses the words 'special prototype', 'nanoparticle' and 'Cerberus' in one go?
"Just look at the amazing speed with which her body replenishes leuko's." Dr. Chakwas added. The she frowned. "Though she needs to eat properly. I fear that together with those new biotic amps they are draining too much energy."
"He-ll-o?" I exclaimed, getting more and more peeved by the minute. "I can still hear you, y'know?"
Three pair of eyes fastened on me, expressing various levels of surprise. Incredible. They had actually forgotten about me.
"You're right, Commander." At least Miranda looked flustered. For about half a second. "You need to eat."
"What's this?" The Professor asked, pointing at the datapad.
The prelude to a news flash, concluding with the words: 'and then she turned the weapon on herself'?
"These," the Doc huffed, "Are her ACTH and cortisol values."
"Impossible. Parameters extending norm values by far."
This was ridiculous. I was about to wiggle my way down the table when Mordin addressed me.
"Shepard. Continuing without stress release will have detrimental effects to physical and mental health. Let alone effects on crew morale."
"So?"
"My personal advice: find stress release. Medical recommendation: sexual activities. Fastest and most thoroughly method for hormone-driven species."
My head whipped around and I felt my cheeks heathen up. We're not having this conversation, we're not having…
"Would propose Officer Taylor as most suitable candidate, but lack in trust… problematic. Trust… hmm," the salarian plowed onwards in his monologue and I found myself unable to do anything but gasp wide-eyed for air like a stranded fish. "You trust the quarian. No, no signs of sapphic affinities…"
This was just a nightmare, right? RIGHT?
"Professor Solus, my data recorded a significant decrease in stress signals in the presence of Officer Vakarian," EDI added – gleefully, I swear – and just like that the last shards of my dignity ran off never to be seen again.
"Not helping, EDI," I sang, rubbing my temples, where a dull ache was announcing a formidable headache. It also prevented my hands from closing around certain throats.
The salarian cocked his head and blinked. "The turian? Hmm. Sexual activities stress release for turians as well. Might procure win-win situation. Caution recommended but still worth a try if he would be aboard. Commander, are you ill? Your face shows distinct greenish tint. Can retrieve bin."
"Thank you, that's not necessary…" I groaned, while some dirty voice in my head hummed that this kind of stress release certainly would be fun. "You know what? If Garrus ever decides to grace us with his presence again, I'll think about your advice."
Which was just as likely as a snowstorm in hell; but rather that than having the Professor come up with anymore of his wholesome suggestions.
"Can help. There." Mordin said and typed into his omnitool. "Message sent with mating request."
"WHAT?" I sputtered and jumped off the table. I barely registered the sharp pain jolting up my thigh. My voice broke into some high-pitched squeal out of sheer mortification. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
In panic my eyes darted around seeking for help, but Lawson and the Doc were just watching my drama as fascinated as if it was some kind of Spanish telenovela acted out right in front of them.
I turned the evil-eye back to the salarian. He lifted his hands in defense. "No need for concern. Was just… test."
A test? A FRIGGING TEST?
"Okay that's it, I'm done here," I shouted and limped towards the door.
The salarian coughed and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. "Is there anything else, Professor?"
…and then she turned the weapon on herself…
"Actually, yes. Finished analysis of Collector tissue acquired on Horizon."
Well, that got my attention and I turned in the doorframe.
"And you couldn't tell that fact first, could you?"
"Shepard, that's good news," Miranda said way too neutral as if she was desperately fighting back a fit of laughter and I really began to understand why Jack was hiding out in a dark spot in the bowls of the ship. Not much of a risk getting humiliated there.
"Okay, I'm listening," I said. "What do you have?"
"First dissection. Most organs atrophied, extensive internal cybernetic adaptions for compensation. Next synthesized DNA. Compared different tissue samples. There is unusual high match rate between samples of different specimen. Cloning technology likely involved. Tried to learn more about Collector's derivation by sequencing key genes. Then realized DNA contained unusual patterns. Seemed… engineered?"
"Engineered? As in not naturally grown?" I asked, my annoyance dissipating.
"Yes. Followed hunch and ran another sequence analysis to match with obtained husk tissue. Found similar patterns." He started walk up and down, hands gesturing in agitation. "Husks modification of humans. Collectors have similar changes in genome only more... complex. Use of another species to create Collectors logical conclusion."
"Like the keepers…"
The salarian nodded.
"But how come they look so different from the husks?"
Mordin stopped his pacing. "Was wondering the same. So dissected husk sample. Yielded unexpected results. Transformation in human husks rapid and enforced by maximally invasive exposure to Reaper nanites. Collectors in contrast were modified slowly. Generations maybe. Different approach, similar results. Though brut-forcing the transformation seems to significantly curtail the capability for complex tasks."
"They don't want more servants. They want cheap shock troops."
"Likely. Also found Collectors possess quad-strand helix. Very unusual." He took a breath. "Cannot be sure, but suspect Collectors to be modified Protheans."
Had someone dropped a pin now, it would have shattered a deafening silence.
"Impossible…" the Doc whispered and Miranda nodded, her eyes wide.
"So…" I began slowly. "The Collectors are in truth Prothean husks, transformed by some Reaper genome program. Peachy."
"Yes. However, need more data to verify."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Which reminds me: next time, please do bring more than just headless torso."
"Sure." Uh-huh. No wonder everybody avoided the Tech Lab. It was the chamber of horrors in there.
"I'll inform the others about the updates. On the Collectors, I mean," Miranda said and sashayed out of the room.
I first stopped banging my head against the door frame when the Doc pulled me away.
.~'*'~.
'Wanna f%$k like a b3a5t?
Try Virilgan, the only potency drug with extracts from krogan testicles. 100 % genuine! 100 % satisfaction!'
100% Yuk. I hit the DELETE button.
After my Med Bay humiliation, it did feel like a reward extraordinaire to browse through my private mailing account clearing out the 99.99 % of spam that had piled up within two years.
'Are you ashamed because your outward appearance doesn't reflect your inner beauty? Dr. Snip and his team will make your dreams come true. Warning: Limited functionality of additional genitalia is no warranty case!'
DELETE. What was wrong with those people?
'Hello my friend. This do be Bob, we do met last year. I do make big buziness but now I do need your help to enter to Citadel space and pick up me money. Pleaze do send your ID numbr to me. I do share my profit wit you. 23.000.000 creditz will be you!'
DELETE. Sorry Bob.
It went on like that. Penis enlargement, casino spam, phishing for extranet account data, phishing for bank data, some more penis enlargement, boobs enlargement, chain letters threatening with obscure accidents if you ignored them, vagina tightening (no joke, I swear)…
DELETE. DELETE. DELETE. In my head it sounded almost like DIE. DIE. DIE.
When I'd lived out my mail killing rampage, there were just a handful of messages left. Two from Haliat Armory; the first stating that my pre-ordered Stiletto would be available sooner than expected and the second apologizing in elaborate words that there were issues with my payment and I could suck on my toes and die. Har-har.
There was also a circular note from Alexa, a N7 team mate and one from Garrus. I skipped Alexa's, checking the date on Garrus' message. It was the day the Collectors had attacked the Normandy.
+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+
Subject: Re: Heads-up
Sent by Garrus Vakarian 17/08/2183, 10:12 AM
Shepard,
I will do my best to hold on. Although on some days it feels like fighting a Colossus with a flash bang. You get the satisfaction to strike home, but in the long run you make zero impression. You're right, Tayseri Ward is still burning, and the C already tries to downplay the incidents… Incredible.
Commander, it would be my honor to redeem the debt during your next stay. I've already spotted the perfect place - I've heard they even serve coffee imported from earth.
Don't forget to watch your back as well.
G
Subject: Heads-up
Sent by Ivy Shepard, 15/08/2183, 1:34 AM
Hey Garrus,
I hope you're alright and Citadel's red tape hasn't driven you into madness so far. Just think about it as a chance to kick the beast from within. We're about to enter geth space, so I'll soon vanish behind another comm-block, but afterwards, I plan to return to the Citadel – I think we need to make some more noise. If we don't watch out the C will just sweep S and its disturbing agenda under the rug.
Hope to meet you when I'm back. Remember, you still owe me lunch with 'magnificent view' and I fully intend to collect my winnings.
One more thing: Since the last days, I've this awful gut-feeling… Just watch out, okay?
Shepard
+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+
His words made me smile and at the same moment depressed. How? How was I supposed to fix this mess?
The universe wasn't answering so I opened the message from Alex. Curious. I couldn't remember that she had ever mailed me after our ways had parted… Actually the message got sent to one of N7's distribution list. I scanned it and a frown crept into my face.
+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+
Subject: Footage Ceremony
Sent by Alexa Milton 13/09/2153, 8:51 PM
Hey guys,
I'm sure by now you've all heard the sad news about Shepard… Losing one of ours is always tragic, but I always felt she was special. I know some of you couldn't attend the memorial but the good elves at Alliance PR & Media division provided some footage. I've added the link.
Hugs,
Alexa
+.+.+.+.+.+.+.+
A memorial service?
I shook my head, feeling perhaps a little guilty. So far I hadn't thought too hard about what my death would have meant to the Alliance and to the few people there who had cared.
Would the link still work? And if it did; to watch or to watch not? My curiosity won. Yes, yes, curiosity killed the cat, but yeah, you already know what's waiting at that particular punch line.
The video was indeed still online. It started with a shot of the presidium then the camera switched to Anderson standing behind a speaker's desk. I had never seen him looking that… old. His speech was a straight and honest thing; just what I expected from the Captain. Perhaps a little stoic but then I couldn't really blame him. Despite all my shortcomings in the obedience department, I had turned into his most promising warden. And then the bitch had stolen away into the night.
Impassive, I watched the other speeches, most of them nothing but a conglomerate of empty phrases and affected dismay. You could have changed my name with that of any soldier the Alliance had lost on that day. Twice my finger twitched to close the video and twice I restrained myself. To say that watching your own funeral felt all seven kinds of weird didn't even begin to cover it, yet I couldn't help but wonder if those few people I had come to care about while serving the Alliance where there as well. I had already seen some of our N7 guys in a brief shot of the assembled crowd.
The speeches were at an end and the footage showed the picture of me that had been taken the day I was accepted into N7, accompanied by the first soft guitar chords of an old song fading in. The camera zoomed out, showing the picture was standing on a tripod next to a closed casket. A memorial plate had been placed on it; a few soldiers stepped forward saluting, the camera switched to a sea of homogeneous white and blue flowers where Kaidan was setting down another bouquet of white lilies, all while a man long dead and gone sang a heart-wrenching rock song about a girl buying a stairway to heaven.
This was… I didn't know what to make of it. Sure, it was touching on some level but then again it felt just wrong. This wasn't even remotely like me and… and sitting a little aside from all those meaningless bouquets, I spotted a patch of yellow. I rewound the video, zoomed in and... blinked.
Oh my god.
This was either pure coincidence or…
After Virmire the Crew had decided to hold a small ceremony for Ashley on the Normandy. We had drinks to her, remembered our time together; had some more drinks… At the end of the evening there had been just me and Garrus sitting in the Mess in front of our glasses. Needless to say there had been way too many glasses.
"I talked to Anderson earlier. They're going to hold a memorial service on the Citadel," I say darkly.
"Isn't that a good thing?" The turian sitting across the table from me asks and gives me his version of a raised eyebrow.
"Have you ever seen an Alliance memorial service?"
"I… guess? Memorial plates, lots of white flowers and ribbons, high-ranking officers holding solemn speeches in front of horribly shot portrait photos…"
I snicker. "Exactly. Know one, and you'll know all. They claim it's for Ash, but do they give a fig that she loved Tennyson and hated flowers? No-ooo. Goddamn hypocrites," I curse, my words slightly slurred. Thankfully Garrus is in no better shape. I sigh. "At least there's still her family, remembering who, and not just what she was…"
"Let's drink to that." Garrus lifts his glass.
So do I. "To you, Ash, frigging best GC I've ever worked with."
"May your family always remember you with pride. You've been a hell of a shot," the turian admits to my surprise.
I grin and resume, "And if they don't, then there's still the Normandy crew to pitch in. You will get a big-ass memorial plate right here, on this ship and… and… no flowers. I swear."
"To Ashley."
We clink our glasses and I savor the last sip of the bourbon that had cost me an arm and a leg. All of a sudden a strange melancholy crushes over me. No family would ever remember who I had been…
"Did she really hate flowers?" Garrus asks into my silence. "I find this hard to believe, Shepard. Certainly there's no woman in the galaxy who isn't at least a little inclined towards them. Ahh, under the right circumstances, I mean..."
I shrug. "Yeah, perhaps. Whatever." I fish for the bottle of home-distilled vodka, Dubyansky had provided, and fill another glass. Nastrovje! The rough alcohol burns down my throat and languorous warmth spreads through me, chasing away the darkness. Before I realize what I'm doing, though, I hear myself muttering, "I like sunflowers..."
I blink. Now, why did I say that?
"What's a sunflower?" The turian helps himself to another drink as well.
"A plant. From Earth. It can be small or grow as tall as any krogan. They have those huge round flower heads and with petals of this deep vibrant yellow. I like them, they…" I pause then add softer, "They always turn towards the sun..."
I was still staring at the blue flowerpot growing a little sunflower in full bloom.
Impossible.
He had remembered.