This was it.
This was really it.
It was over. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes with a hard swallow.
Gripping the straps on her backpack at the bed's edge, she zipped up what little she had left and shouldered it. Like a shell, she stood there like a body without a soul.
She knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that leaving without goodbye would only bear regret. Yet, in the same breath, saying it was also acknowledging the end. That it was done with. That the Normandy and John were truly dead and gone. It was clear to her, from how committed she was to just run away, that she lacked the courage to face that fact.
She opened the door and stood at its threshold, eyes sweeping the room one last time to its indifferent walls, a witness to the days of her suffocating grief and silent weeps. One more step out, hand slipping from the knob, eyes watching the door begin its silent journey back, tracing a slow, deliberate arc until it closed with a soft click. There was a finality to that sound. Almost like a book closing. Or the last note of a melody fading to silence. Her stare lingered for a moment more and she finally took the stairs down to make her way to the lobby. The process of checking out was a blur, mind understandably elsewhere.
Soon after, she eased herself to the plush embrace of a chair in the hotel's foyer and waited for her taxi amidst the uncomfortable luxury, eyes gazing out through one of the grand windows, its view a mundane slice of the city's sprawl. The flotilla was only about two days away. And her return would promise a return to the familiar. She'd be back. Back to an old life, but in a different ship to do some new thing.
Yeah, "Some new thing." She muttered slowly, words an empty echo. She could no longer bear the sight of the world outside, so she shut her eyes away from it.
She still felt regret mostly, if she wasn't lying to herself. All that time wasted trying to convince herself the idea of staying with John on the Normandy was an idea best kept as a dream. But that's all it could ever be now. A dream. An apparition forever trapped within the bounds of her mind. A reality forever out of reach.
The pilgrimage meant nothing to her anymore. She'd trade anything for him. Anything to have him back.
She could hear her taxi arriving. As it pulled into the roundabout, she stood and walked out without a backward glance.
"This is the six thirty, right?" Tali asked nonchalantly as she clambered inside.
The driver didn't reply. When she looked up to repeat herself out of the idea that he hadn't heard her, her mouth went dry. She frowned at this comical absurdity. It was the batarian from last night. The one she'd spared from what could easily have been a third victim to her (Let's be real) misplaced vendetta.
"Good morning." Tali greeted evenly, though it betrayed the raggedness in her posture.
The man didn't even bother turning around to face her. He cleared his throat, discomfort palpable. "Uhm..."
"Drive."
"R—right." He turned off the driveway and ascended up to the airway.
The next minute or so was carried in silence. And it looked like it was killing him more than her. Tali finally decided to break it.
"How're your friends?" She asked with a frown before crossing her legs and arms, "They faring well?"
"Which do you want to know about first? The one you shot? Or the one with a broken nose and arm?"
"Limpie first."
"Checked out of the ER this morning. The turian guy's still in I think. Got admitted into the OR last night."
"I see." Tali murmured mostly to herself.
"Yeah."
She took a deep breath and willed herself to offer an apology. "I'm sorry for what I did."
He gave her a twisted look through the rearview mirror. "Sorry for what? They earned that."
She rose a single brow at what he said but didn't say anything. Trying to find something interesting to pass the time, she stared out the window and into the reflection staring back at her. "I didn't need to hurt anybody. But I did."
"He deserved that broken nose though." He offered.
She actually smirked. "Maybe."
Seeing as how he didn't appear affiliated with the two nitwits she'd pummeled, she faced the back of his head. "Why were you with them?"
She could see his scoff as he leaned into the steering wheel. "Dealer ditched me with his pals. Was third-wheeling it for an hour waiting until you showed up. I just wanted my buds so I could go home. That's it. I'm sorry for not doing more to stop them. I should've tried."
"Did you ever get your drugs?"
"No." He said flatly, "Maybe that's for the best."
They drove for another minute or so without saying anything before her driver caught notice of the wispy trails of thin smoke out near the ward's horizon.
"Smoke's a little thicker than usual." He pointed out, "See that?"
Tali stared out from her window and to the dozens of felled scrapers Sovereign had laid waste to months ago. And just like that, Tali slipped into a flashback to their last moments of fighting Sovereign and his pet spectre. The gravity of those final hours. The mere idea of knowing the galaxy depended upon the actions of such a select few. It never failed to always make her stomach churn.
"They're still getting head counts, you know." He said, pulling Tali out of her senseless wandering, "Lost my parents and my dog." He pointed out, finger touching the window as they raced by a damaged building. "Right there."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be." Her driver replied with the barest hint of a shrug, tone mellow, "It is what it is."
"Is that what pushed you to drink? To get high?"
"No." He shook his head, "It was me losing my job three weeks ago at SolBanc," He stammered and felt the need to contextualize himself, "Well not SolBanc exactly. Lost my job at InTrust operating under their umbrella. Restructuring from, yours truly, Haas-Mas. Ever heard of him?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Well. That was my last straw. Down the chute I went. Working as a cab driver in the meantime to make ends meet. The insurrection was not kind to my skillshare."
"We all hit lows."
"Yeah," He said nonchalantly, "Most don't hit bedrock. "
"How much do you even remember from last night, exactly?"
"I was drunk and high as a kite. Sober enough to remember you, though."
They finally turned off the airway toward the airport. "Almost there. You should get your things ready."
She took his advice and shouldered her bag.
"...And we're here." He said as he pulled up to the curb. He turned around and saw her staring absently to the teeming throng of foot traffic outside.
"Ma'am?"
She stirred slightly and dropped down to look at her omni-tool, "Thirty credits?"
"Yes ma'am."
She looked up at him with pressed lips. "How badly are you trying to make ends meet?"
His mouth tried to move and he gave her a confused stare. "Frozen pizza and Kraft mac&cheese. I'm scraping by, ma'am. I'll make it though. I think."
She fished for her chit and tipped him three thousand credits instead.
"A little something to lighten the burden. Not a credit to drugs or liquor. Am I clear?" She said sternly.
The batarian had to keep his jaw from falling off his head. "Uh—why are you doing this...?" His head turned on a swivel to find the punchline that should've been coming, "Is this some kind of trick?"
"No," She said before handing him her chit and smiling weakly, "I do it because—"
She was suddenly at a loss for words.
Because what? Tali wasn't exactly known for her bleeding heart. Much less for anyone stupid enough to find solutions from a bottle and illicit drugs. Ultimately, she supposed she was doing it more for herself. She'd met her dead-end. A lot like him. She couldn't save herself from her despair; but she could certainly at least help this one; even if it meant risking enabling his behavior.
"—Because we all have to shoulder something." She answered finally, "I guess I'm supposed to say there's light at the end of every tunnel."
"I hope so." He murmured weakly with a faint smile before taking the chit from her to process the sale, "My name's Caleb Maxwell, if it means anything."
"Your name's surprisingly human."
"Parents were human."
"I see."
He handed her back the chit. "Look, before you go. I'd like to at least know your name."
"Tali. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."
His jaw went slack and he didn't have the guts to meet her stare anymore. "Don't take this the wrong way. But I'm glad it was you they picked."
She supposed he was right. Her eyes told him enough to know she agreed. "Goodbye, Mr. Caleb."
"Take care of yourself."
"Thank you." She mumbled and shook his hand. Closing the door, she turned to look at the airport's closest terminal for Exalted Spaceways. Hearing his vehicle gradually accelerate behind her, she began a steady walking pace through the bustling commonplace and vanished into the crowd of people.
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2-3-2184
[ SERPENT NEBULA ]
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Her stare set against a collection of tickets, she brought them down when the ship's intercom squawked for everyone's attention.
"Welcome aboard. This is Captain Niak Gladimere of the Hollowed Fame. We are on course for the Horsehead Nebula, specifically bound for the Pax System. Our destination, Noveria, at the Linji Spaceport, lies about six hours ahead. Shortly, our attendants will present an overview of the safety equipment available on board, including its proper use and locations. We wish you a comfortable and enjoyable journey. Thank you for choosing to fly Exalted."
As promised, flight attendants emerged to outline safety procedure while the Hallowed Fame began its embarkation, leaving Tali to roost in the quiet introspection of the Serpent Nebulae coasting through her window. Its colors used to provoke her. They no longer did.
Six hours was a long time to be alone with only a brume of thoughts to hold her company. Amid the solitude and the headache that persisted, she did her best to find some refuge in the silence; it's why she left after all. She wanted to be alone. She didn't want to talk to anyone anymore. It was an incredibly selfish thing to do, leaving them all behind. A sin in every regard. She'd bled and fought with them all. And she just up and left. No hugs or goodbyes. No parting words. Just quiet dissolution.
She muted her vocalizer and let a groan escape her when she felt her omni-tool vibrate like she was expecting it to anytime now. No doubt they just found out what she'd done.
Reluctantly, she engaged the text message and read it despite her inner protests not to.
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ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ɢᴀʀʀᴜs.
ᴛᴏ: ᴛᴀʟɪ
ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡɪsʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇꜰᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇᴘᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴄᴀsᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.
ɪ ɢᴜᴇss ɪ'ʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɪᴛ's ᴛᴏᴏ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪʟ.
ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ sᴏᴏɴ.
-ɢᴀʀʀᴜs
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
She mashed her face up against the window, hands against the glass, eyes wide and brimmed with tears. She stared at the ward she parted from, its citied landscape and the towers that stretched to the Citadel's center shrinking, eventually disappearing from view entirely.
Lips parted and voice soundless, a single sob of regret that she had every hand in sowing choked out.
"No..."
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"She isn't going to answer." Garrus resigned himself with only a murmur.
Beside him, Liara's attention remained fixed on the object she delicately turned over in her hands. It was a coin of sorts, its craftsmanship straddling the line between artisanal grace and some unknown, likely sentimental, purpose. Its surface, a deep and matted blackness, held within its center etched markings.
"What do you think it is?" Liara ventured as the coin twirled between her fingers, catching the light from the window with a subdued shimmer.
He didn't answer. He only rose and approached her with a mixture of irritation and resignation coloring his tone. "Put it back."
Liara complied and nestled the coin back into its resting place. "Sorry— I was just curious," she said sheepishly.
He reclaimed it in one swift motion, stuffed it into his bag, and secured it away by the door.
A moment stretched and he stood there before letting a bitter sigh seep.
"I can't believe she's gone. Wrex, sure. But Tali?" He couldn't bring himself to do anything but bend forward and rake his hands across the back of his neck.
"How else was this going to end?" Liara offered pensively.
"I don't know. I just—" he inhaled and almost let the sentence wander off, "...I didn't think it would end like this."
"Garrus…"
He met her sad stare with a hard one, the silent hum of a refrigerator the only thing to break the ringing silence between them.
Then he stared up through the wide windows that spanned floor to ceiling. Traced the skies of the world that moved on without a care to their throes—then to the silhouette of a spaceliner's slow ascent toward the Citadel's distant relay.
"Feels like I'm losing my entire family." He confessed.
Liara shifted uncomfortably in the bandages wrapped around her waist. The grit in his face never left and he felt a silent summon to the front door. "Liara, I'm—I'm gonna head back to my room."
"Can I come?" Liara's voice was small and meek. She really didn't want to be alone.
A weak grin managed to surface despite the turmoil that wrought his guts. He opened the door, gesturing to follow. "Sure. Can you cook?"