Tables Voluntarily Turned 2/?
anonymous
April 26 2012, 23:31:04 UTC
Archangel was Garrus. Holy hell, where had that come from? What had two years without her wrought upon her darling rogue C-Sec agent? He wasn't clean like the white Citadel walls any longer. Omega had swathed him in the dirty side of anger and rage and badass. All his pain and guilt, all his unsung emotions that his face couldn't show, scarred as it was. She wanted it all. She wanted to take it away. To bring back what he was before her ship exploded. She wanted that innocence that she had seen when he had demanded to go along with her, to find Saren.
It wasn't such a stretch of the imagination to proposition him. Subtle hints from Chambers and Kasumi really hadn't helped. The little flare of green when the yeoman spoke of him should have tipped her off as to her feelings around her turian crewmember. She had bled out most of his rage when Sidonis walked, and he seemed to calm down and revert to the man she remembered. His brash sarcasm was sorely missed.
That first time, before the relay, wasn't about introductions to sexual fantasies. It wasn't about learning what made each of them scream in ecstasy. It was about comfort, about closeness. She gripped him tight as he hovered over her, imagining this to be the last time she'd ever feel his rough skin, his plated thighs pressed against hers, his forehead scratching against her own. He wanted something to go right? Well, she'd give him that before they possibly died. If they made it back, and chances were slim they would, they'd see where it went beyond this.
Omega 4, and everything beyond it. Collectors and colonists dissolving and Normandy crew saved. Harbinger's booming voice, preserve Shepard's body. Last stands and close calls and a baby human Reaper, what the fuck. That last desperate push and jump and Garrus caught her like she was going to leave him forever again.
They didn't have as long as she would have preferred, after all that. The Alliance calling her home to answer for the absolute travesty that was Aratoht. Stupid doctor, stupid indoctrinated fools. Three hundred thousand batarians dead, and no evidence to support her claim that it was Reapers. Only Hackett's trust in her words kept her from going under.
Six months. Six months alone, in well-kept conditions with plenty to eat, and a rather beautifully sculpted warden keeping an eye on her. Vega was scrumptious, she'll admit, and if she didn't have a thing for hard-plated aliens with scars, she'd make him act on all that heavy flirting. Just thinking about Garrus during her lockup sent her into a string of thoughts that made her keep her hands busy at night. The memories were more than enough, and Shepard wished she could have had a few more scrapes and claw marks to add to the rest before the impending doom arrived.
Earth was hit hard. Leaving her home planet behind was difficult, despite her childhood. It was her home regardless of whether she was fighting for her life before her teen years, and to see it burning caused a deep seated ball of rage and despair to settle in her gut.
Which only intensified as they watched the turian fleet getting decimated at Palaven.
She kept her facade calm and collected, but inside, she couldn't help but wonder if Garrus was down there, amongst the burning rubble and fighting for his life. Or if he was already dead. So when he strolled up with that swagger and held her hand in his, she couldn't help the smile she gave him, the one that spoke of words to be said later on, in the privacy of her cabin.
It wasn't such a stretch of the imagination to proposition him. Subtle hints from Chambers and Kasumi really hadn't helped. The little flare of green when the yeoman spoke of him should have tipped her off as to her feelings around her turian crewmember. She had bled out most of his rage when Sidonis walked, and he seemed to calm down and revert to the man she remembered. His brash sarcasm was sorely missed.
That first time, before the relay, wasn't about introductions to sexual fantasies. It wasn't about learning what made each of them scream in ecstasy. It was about comfort, about closeness. She gripped him tight as he hovered over her, imagining this to be the last time she'd ever feel his rough skin, his plated thighs pressed against hers, his forehead scratching against her own. He wanted something to go right? Well, she'd give him that before they possibly died. If they made it back, and chances were slim they would, they'd see where it went beyond this.
Omega 4, and everything beyond it. Collectors and colonists dissolving and Normandy crew saved. Harbinger's booming voice, preserve Shepard's body. Last stands and close calls and a baby human Reaper, what the fuck. That last desperate push and jump and Garrus caught her like she was going to leave him forever again.
They didn't have as long as she would have preferred, after all that. The Alliance calling her home to answer for the absolute travesty that was Aratoht. Stupid doctor, stupid indoctrinated fools. Three hundred thousand batarians dead, and no evidence to support her claim that it was Reapers. Only Hackett's trust in her words kept her from going under.
Six months. Six months alone, in well-kept conditions with plenty to eat, and a rather beautifully sculpted warden keeping an eye on her. Vega was scrumptious, she'll admit, and if she didn't have a thing for hard-plated aliens with scars, she'd make him act on all that heavy flirting. Just thinking about Garrus during her lockup sent her into a string of thoughts that made her keep her hands busy at night. The memories were more than enough, and Shepard wished she could have had a few more scrapes and claw marks to add to the rest before the impending doom arrived.
Earth was hit hard. Leaving her home planet behind was difficult, despite her childhood. It was her home regardless of whether she was fighting for her life before her teen years, and to see it burning caused a deep seated ball of rage and despair to settle in her gut.
Which only intensified as they watched the turian fleet getting decimated at Palaven.
She kept her facade calm and collected, but inside, she couldn't help but wonder if Garrus was down there, amongst the burning rubble and fighting for his life. Or if he was already dead. So when he strolled up with that swagger and held her hand in his, she couldn't help the smile she gave him, the one that spoke of words to be said later on, in the privacy of her cabin.
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