Re: All the king's horses, all the king's men. 6/? F!Shep/Garrus
anonymous
April 20 2012, 05:54:57 UTC
Jack is a spitfire of hate and belligerance. Once Shepard orders her released from the biotic dampening restraints the guards have fitted her with, she paces the dock, heaping spite and outrage on Kuril, Miranda, the Normandy, Cerberus, Purgatory, essentially anything breathing or inanimate. Her vitriol only eases when Shepard promises her access to classified Cerberus files, doing her best to ignore Miranda’s outraged protests.
The short shuttle ride is made in tense silence, Miranda can barely contain her distaste of their newest crewmate, and Shepard, far too aware of the slight weight of unconcious turian half cradled in her arms, hopes their inevitable confrontation can wait until the shuttle has landed. She had first ordered, then bullied, and eventually bribed Grunt into hauling Garrus to the docks, the young Krogan grumbling with digust every step of the way.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack’s strident voice sliced through the shuttle, as she gestured at Garrus, “what the fuck is that. Seriously Shepard, you just in the rescue business, ‘cause if so, I swear I saw a kitten back there.” Her mocking laugh is brazen and bright.
“All you need to know,” Miranda sighed, “is that he was a ......personal prisoner of the wardens.”
“Oh” The sneer on Jack’s face faded slightly, as she leaned back against the shuttle wall, “in that case, do him a favor and end him before he wakes up.” She shrugs at Shepard’s cold glare, crossing her arms defensively, “I could do it if you can’t, but trust me, he isn’t going to thank you for the rescue if thats what you think.”
“And you know this how?” Shepard didn’t even try to keep the hostility from her voice, as she tucks the emergency blanket from the shuttle kit tighter around Garrus, as if the material could shelter him from the cruelty of the young biotic’s words.
“Heard talk is all....about what that fucking sadist of a warden does to his ‘specials’,” Jack turns the last word into a disguted sneer, “and he’s a turian, so he’s most likely to off himself anyway.” She shrugs a slim, tattooed shoulder, “I’d watch him around guns for a while commander,” tapping a fingernail against her temple, the biotic levels a bitter smile at Shepard, “bullets are going to look really friendly to him for a while.”
The dull thunk of the shuttle’s landing gear ends the conversation. Jack is up and moving the second the door hisses open, her harsh face schooled into a bored expression as she marches off towards the elevator, hips swinging in deliberate provocation. Miranda scrambles out after her, casting an apologetic glance back over her shoulder at Shepard, clearly torn between staying to help her commander and making sure an unsupervised Jack didnt destroy anything.
Shepard waves her off, muttering “come on Grunt, help me here” to the reluctant krogan.
Stumping over to stare down at the prone, blanket swathed turian, Grunt’s mobile mouth curls into a suprisingly human expression of disgust. “He stinks Shepard,” he grumps with typical Krogan bluntness, “ stinks like death...and humans.” Despite his grumping, grunt is suprisingly carefull as he scoops Garrus’ emaciated body out of Shepard’s grasp, rumbling his disaproval as he hops heavily down from the shuttle.
The blunt assertion of Garrus’ condition makes Shepard’s eyes burn as she follows the krogan toward the elevator, turians were a fastidious people as a whole, Garrus was no exception; and Shepard had always found his natural, faintly metallic scent pleasant. Even as she had wrapped the blanket around the turian’s thin shoulders, she had been aware that he smelled strongly of human sweat and dried semen, overlayed with the faintly sweet/copper smell of his hemocyanin based blood, and the dark, ugly reek of old wounds and infection.
Shepard’s initial plan had been to have Grunt move him straight to the med bay, but somehow the thought of imediately depositing Garrus to Chakwas in this current, undignified condition makes her feel faintly ill. Trampling down the remnants of her better judgement, Shepard waits for the heavy elevator doors to close behind her and Grunt before bypassing the controls that would take them to the main crew deck, instead, after only a seconds hesitation, she slaps in the command for her own private cabin.
Re: All the king's horses, all the king's men. 6/? F!Shep/Garrus
anonymous
April 21 2012, 05:44:20 UTC
Interesting prompt and excellent story so far. a!a is successful at making this reader heartbroken. This anon is happy that a!a hasn't characterized Miranda as a cold-hearted bitch like some other stories do.
The short shuttle ride is made in tense silence, Miranda can barely contain her distaste of their newest crewmate, and Shepard, far too aware of the slight weight of unconcious turian half cradled in her arms, hopes their inevitable confrontation can wait until the shuttle has landed. She had first ordered, then bullied, and eventually bribed Grunt into hauling Garrus to the docks, the young Krogan grumbling with digust every step of the way.
“Alright, I’ll bite,” Jack’s strident voice sliced through the shuttle, as she gestured at Garrus, “what the fuck is that. Seriously Shepard, you just in the rescue business, ‘cause if so, I swear I saw a kitten back there.” Her mocking laugh is brazen and bright.
“All you need to know,” Miranda sighed, “is that he was a ......personal prisoner of the wardens.”
“Oh” The sneer on Jack’s face faded slightly, as she leaned back against the shuttle wall, “in that case, do him a favor and end him before he wakes up.” She shrugs at Shepard’s cold glare, crossing her arms defensively, “I could do it if you can’t, but trust me, he isn’t going to thank you for the rescue if thats what you think.”
“And you know this how?” Shepard didn’t even try to keep the hostility from her voice, as she tucks the emergency blanket from the shuttle kit tighter around Garrus, as if the material could shelter him from the cruelty of the young biotic’s words.
“Heard talk is all....about what that fucking sadist of a warden does to his ‘specials’,” Jack turns the last word into a disguted sneer, “and he’s a turian, so he’s most likely to off himself anyway.” She shrugs a slim, tattooed shoulder, “I’d watch him around guns for a while commander,” tapping a fingernail against her temple, the biotic levels a bitter smile at Shepard, “bullets are going to look really friendly to him for a while.”
The dull thunk of the shuttle’s landing gear ends the conversation. Jack is up and moving the second the door hisses open, her harsh face schooled into a bored expression as she marches off towards the elevator, hips swinging in deliberate provocation. Miranda scrambles out after her, casting an apologetic glance back over her shoulder at Shepard, clearly torn between staying to help her commander and making sure an unsupervised Jack didnt destroy anything.
Shepard waves her off, muttering “come on Grunt, help me here” to the reluctant krogan.
Stumping over to stare down at the prone, blanket swathed turian, Grunt’s mobile mouth curls into a suprisingly human expression of disgust. “He stinks Shepard,” he grumps with typical Krogan bluntness, “ stinks like death...and humans.” Despite his grumping, grunt is suprisingly carefull as he scoops Garrus’ emaciated body out of Shepard’s grasp, rumbling his disaproval as he hops heavily down from the shuttle.
The blunt assertion of Garrus’ condition makes Shepard’s eyes burn as she follows the krogan toward the elevator, turians were a fastidious people as a whole, Garrus was no exception; and Shepard had always found his natural, faintly metallic scent pleasant. Even as she had wrapped the blanket around the turian’s thin shoulders, she had been aware that he smelled strongly of human sweat and dried semen, overlayed with the faintly sweet/copper smell of his hemocyanin based blood, and the dark, ugly reek of old wounds and infection.
Shepard’s initial plan had been to have Grunt move him straight to the med bay, but somehow the thought of imediately depositing Garrus to Chakwas in this current, undignified condition makes her feel faintly ill. Trampling down the remnants of her better judgement, Shepard waits for the heavy elevator doors to close behind her and Grunt before bypassing the controls that would take them to the main crew deck, instead, after only a seconds hesitation, she slaps in the command for her own private cabin.
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This breaks my heart so badly and I love you for it.
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Please, please update soon. <3
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First time I played ME2, I really didn't like her ~ but she really grew on me.:)
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