The Desolation of Honesty 1/?
anonymous
June 17 2012, 02:35:58 UTC
If Shepard was honest with herself it started the first time they met, all those years ago in the council chambers of the Citadel. When she had gazed into his piercing blue eyes and he had not wavered; unlike so many others had under her harsh glare. She remembered standing there for what seemed to be an eternity sizing him up, trying to figure out his place in this mess that had begun on Eden Prime, with what had been so falsely called a shakedown run. He was taller than her, long fringe and sharp teeth, blue swatches of colour swept gracefully across the space below those piercing blue eyes, and from mandible to mandible, he had that slim form all Turians seemed to possess, that form that said hunter. They had stood there staring until Alenko had broken her from his gaze reminding her they still had to see the council.
If she was honest it had been then, but it was the slow burn after which caused it to hurt. The long hours tinkering on the MAKO after she had thrown it off some cliff on some back world yet again. Him teasing her as she tried to bend out some dent and she would make some remark about “fucking woman drivers.” and he would laugh in that beautiful dual toned voice of his. Friendship that had developed easily after she agreed to let him join her team, he’d taken too her harshness easily, like the Krogan; Wrex. It was something not many could. Sure they would fear her, treat her with awe or respect, but few would sit with her for long hours talking about gun mods or music. She was use to keeping most at a distance, and letting someone see under her Commander mask was rare.
Relationships with the rest of the crew were mostly cool and calculated on her part, sure she would embrace and laugh easily with them, but for her it was nothing more than professionalism, her Commander mask always firmly in place. But for some reason he always saw through it, even saw that extra spark of red in her eyes during a revenge mission, and seemed to know how she relived Torfan every time she watched as someone put a bullet through the head of their closest enemy. How her lips would twitch in a humourless smile. He’d tried talking to her about it once and what little of the Commander mask that had slipped while around him glued back together quickly and she had let him see nothing more than the Commander until he left the ship.
A death, an Archangel, and a resurrection fell between them the next time Shepard gazed into his piercing blue eyes. She could see a hardness that had moved into his face, but for a brief moment looking into his eyes caused the skip of a heart beat and a genuine smile had graced her features as her arms spread wide.
“Garrus!” The sound of raw emotion coming from her own mouth had made her realise the mask had momentarily fallen and she quickly let it fall back in place, but she saw a flicker in his eyes then, a flicker she wouldn’t see again till the story of a recon scout and of reach and flexibility.
Shepard wished now, that she had told him then. But instead they had laughed and talked about sparring and old conquests and she had spent another night alone in the whispers of her death. Conquests she’d thought bitterly. Any warm body that had ever graced her sheets had been nothing more than a fleeting moment of needing to blow off steam. She had known then, as he used the same words to her about the recon scout; that he was more than that. If she were to allow him to take up the cold spot beside her that she would never be able to let him go. She knew that the warmth of him would melt her mask away and even if she would not admit it, that nakedness scared her.
In her mind she thought it was for the best, and so she tried to silence the whispering ache of her heart in drink and in battle. She would sit with a strong drink and let her mind drown on the image of him older and with family, his beautiful bond mate and children that he would show to her proudly, his eyes searching hers for approval that she would readily give, because it was him. If she were to be honest, she was looking forward to going out in her final blaze of glory if only to silence that whispering in her heart.
The Desolation of Honesty 2/?
anonymous
June 17 2012, 02:39:57 UTC
What had never crossed her mind was seeing him with someone now. She knew they were finally near the end of their journey, one that had taken them from Sovereign to suicide mission and now the possibility of the end to all life with the Reapers final assault. But it had never occurred to her that he may look for comfort in another. Shepard saw so many others do it in these end times but he had always been her rock, only now she realized she had never been his; and as she’d walked into the main battery of the ship she commanded she felt that rock roll away leaving her off balance and sick.
Behind her eyes burned the fires of a thousand stars going supernova and it took all of her strength not to charge the woman that had her arms wrapped around him now. To slam her pretty purple helmeted head in to Thanix Cannon behind them until the mask covering her face cracked and the shards cut into her face and eyes spilling her Quarian blood till it covered the floor in slick reverence. Shepard had always thought their relationship to be platonic, one not unlike that of a brother or sister. She had heard them banter and laugh together but the black hole she felt herself spinning down as she watched them detangle from each other in surprise as Shepard had entered the room, told her she never expected this.
The commander mask fell and shattered at her feet as she looked at them with fierce betrayal. What little trust and love that remained in her cold heart after Mindoir and Torfan died in the liquid pools of his eyes as she stared at him. They fumbled and bumbled in front of her and all she could see was raging hot lava. She wanted to hurt him, to hurt her, the military training of Turian and Quarian weak points suddenly flittering through her mind. Instead she managed to sputter out: “I’m happy for you both.” A lie, a lie she knew he would see easily through. She took the last of her strength and turned and walked out, impressed that her legs didn’t give out on her, that she managed to calmly walk away from what she had just seen even with every muscle in her body telling her to run.
She was overcome with guilt as she made her way to the elevator, wanting nothing more than too be alone in her quarters at that moment. She suddenly regretted ever letting that young Quarian girl on her ship, allowing her a place on her crew. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back in time and tell her to continue her pilgrimage elsewhere. A sickness rolled through her as she fought that thought, reminding herself that Tali had never been anything but loyal. Something Shepard couldn’t really say of some of the others that had floated through her life. It wasn’t as if Shepard had made her feelings known, hell she had been doing her best to hide them from herself.
When she finally stumbled into her quarters she looked at the false facets of her humanity and they made her sick. The pale blue glow of the empty fish tank that covered the left side of the room illuminated everything. Her broken helmet and old dog tags taunted her from their place on her desk, the towering display case filled with ships of every race reflected her form and she could see the red burn of the cybernetics under her skin, telling her she was nothing more than a Frankenstein monster created for one purpose, and that purpose didn’t include falling in love.
Feral instincts and shattered glass fell heavy on the room as she ripped and tore. A strangled snarl erupting from her throat and she looked at her unarmoured arms sliced with jagged, already healing cuts of every depth. Blood dripped from her finger tips as she collapsed to her knees, the light from the fish tank dancing off the fallen glass causing the floor to rival the view of the overhead observation window, shards glinting like a thousand stars, broken model ships lying in ruins, a testament of a lost battle.
The Desolation of Honesty 3/?
anonymous
June 17 2012, 02:44:19 UTC
He found her like that, breathing heavy into her chest, eyes glowing like cinders but seeing nothing, palms open on the floor coloured red in defeat.
“Shepard?” He whispered softly. A miniscule twitch of her shoulders, a movement that had it been anyone else would have gone unnoticed.
He walked cautiously toward her, lowing himself in front of her and slithering his talons over her hands gently entwining her fingers with his.
“I…” He began. He was cut off as she raised her eyes to his, the red glow dissipated and a worn look crossed her features, something that would never cross the face of the great commander Shepard, and in that moment he knew he was looking at someone else, her first name a whisper on his next breath.
“I’m tired Garrus.” A weak sound escaped her throat, causing his mandibles to close tightly to his face. He gathered her up into his arms and crushed her into his chest. She felt thin as he lifted her from the floor and he wondered when she had last eaten, when she had last slept. The hollowness of her cheeks and the dark shadows below her eyes told him it had been too long. Spirits, when had he gotten so selfish?
He knew she had been spending long hours in the war room and the CIC, pouring over report upon report on the Reapers movements, of progress on the Crucible, a weapon they found themselves pouring all their resources into. And Shepard, she had the weight of it all on her shoulders, everyone looking at her for answers. He felt guilt creep into him as he realized he hadn’t been there when she had needed him most, instead he had gone looking for his own comfort elsewhere. He really was a bad Turian.
He lowered her on her bed and when he was satisfied she wasn’t going to go anywhere he went and grabbed some medi-gel from her bathroom. She watched him with glassy eyes as he kneeled beside the bed and gently slathered the cuts on her arms. But when he would raise his eyes to meet hers she would quickly turn away.
“I’m sorry.” He said after a while. “I told you before I was a bad Turian.” Her head snapped up and he briefly caught the fire in her eyes before it tired out again.
“No.” she snapped. “No, you are not going to dump on me that you’re only here out of some fucking sense of duty.” She wretched her arms from his grasp. “Get out.” She pointed fiercely toward the door, but he saw the dampness in her eyes.
“No.” He responded, getting to his feet.
“That was a fucking order, Vakarian.” She seethed through gritted teeth.
He towered over her, causing her to have to turn her face up toward him in a way he knew she hated. It was the council chambers all over again. Him refusing to bow to the intensity of her gaze as she bore into him with everything she had left. He was so focused on her eyes he didn’t see her hand come up.
She grasped his cowl and with a furious tug, pulled his face to hers, startling him as she crushed her lips into the hard plates of his mouth. His eyes widened into surprise and he saw she was still staring into him, and for a moment he was blind.
The Desolation of Honesty 4/?
anonymous
June 18 2012, 03:32:55 UTC
Shepard had gone through life with things being constantly taken from her. Her family on Mindoir ripped from the mortal coil by Batarian slavers, her life by the collectors, even her death by Cerberus, all stolen. Her actions on Torfan, while fueled by revenge had made her a case study. A figure people looked to, and in her violent need to get the job done; she had become a hero, a bloody icon, ruthless and unwavering, and people continued to take. They touted her as a hero, or a monster, and stole from her to gain hope or fury, to inspire or fear. Never once did anyone ever try to see her though, to try and peek behind the mask that so fluidly moved on her features it was hard to tell there was anyone other than the Great Commander Shepard behind her cold eyes.
Shepard had worked hard at keeping it that way, at building her wall; becoming the fine blade of a sword as she led troops and the sharp snake tongue as she swayed politicians. Knowing full well that the galaxy would continue to take until nothing was left but a broken woman; a woman that knew she would die and from her death they would take again raising her to Legend. A scared little girl from Mindoir pilfered in a one last indignity.
That was until Garrus Vakarian. Even without his signature visor, she knew he saw right through her. She may have been the fiery star the galaxy orbited, but he was the galactic tide. He had so effortlessly chiseled away at her façade it had been too late by the time she noticed. When around him she had laughter that reached her eyes, easiness and camaraderie that rarely showed around others. Garrus like a good infiltrator had made it behind her fences and found that scared little girl from Mindoir, had offered his talon hand to her and she’d accepted.
Now she felt like a fool. The humiliation of it, realising he was only there out of some sick turian sense of duty. Had he ever truly cared for her? Or was he just another person there to take?
He had towered over her, she knew he had done it on purpose, knew how much she hated it. She glared up at him and in the moment that she was going to force him from her chambers, she saw that flicker again. Her hand that had been curling itself in a fist to punch him suddenly changed direction on its own accord and grasped his cowl. Pulling his face towards her, she decided it was her turn to take.
Her soft lips met the hard but pliable plates of his mouth and she darted her tongue into his shocked gasp as she desperately tried to find purchase. A pleased moan rumbling in the back of her throat as his tongue briefly pushed back in a tango with hers. His hands grasped her shoulders hard and for the briefest of moments he pulled her closer before shoving her backward onto the bed. A startled noise escaped her throat as she gazed into his predator eyes, the light of the fish tank glinting softly off the plates of his face causing an odd light to halo around his features and she could see why they had called him Archangel.
He was a raging pillar of light and for the first time in Shepard's life she felt the overwhelming need to look away, but she couldn’t. It was watching a sky car accident in slow motion as he stumbled back to his feet, a look of anger, hurt and betrayal etched on his face and the unmistakable flicker of lust in his eyes. His talons were still slick with her blood and when he ran a hand across his face in disbelief it left new red markings on his face, her mark.
Let Tali see him now. A self-satisfied smirk began to draw itself on her lips.
“Spirits, Shepard.” He growled.
Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes grew dark as she watched him turn and leave. With every heavy clank of his two-toed boots hitting the metal floor, she saw a gaping chasm grow wider and wider.
Re: The Desolation of Honesty 4/?
anonymous
June 18 2012, 20:46:32 UTC
I can totally see this, especially if you play a renegade Shepard. I don't know where you are going with this but I have to say I'm along for the ride.
The Desolation of Honesty 5a/?
anonymous
June 20 2012, 05:05:11 UTC
Breathe in; breathe out, in, out, in, out
It was a mantra in his head. What. Just. Happened? Garrus swung his head looking bewildered around the elevator.
Why was this thing so slow? He caught his image in a reflective surface as he paced in the small area and his eyes went wide, mouth tumbling slightly agape as he stopped and began to slowly trace the blood stains that now graced his features. Her blood. He could still taste her, an odd bittersweet taste on his tongue. He could remember the feel of her hot breath and he traced a talon over the spot she had kissed him and shook his head.
What had it been? A few hours since Tali had come to see him in the main battery? He remembered how they had been talking, one-upping one another on stories of previous missions. He remembered how it turned to flirting and the way she had run her hand up his arm, her large glowing eyes looking up at him from under the purple cover of her helmet. Things had progressed from there, and he had been enjoying the warmth of her seeping through her suit when Shepard had walked in.
He had seen the fire in Shepard’s eyes, the hollowness in her words. How they had all stood there awkwardly for far too long. At the time he didn’t understand what was going through Shepard’s mind, but the way she had walked away told him to follow. When he’d gotten to her quarters he sure as hell didn’t expect what he walked in on, or what had happened.
He had always felt a touch of pride in being one of the Commander’s good friends, being one of the few she had opened up too. He wasn’t stupid; he knew she didn’t hold most friendships close. But he had thought she didn’t want him that way. Looking back there wasn’t many signs, he remembered at one point even giving her an opening to see if maybe there was something more, but nothing came of it.
His mandibles closed tight to his face as he lifted his head to stare blankly at the ceiling. He knew that he would follow her into hell, let her lead him to an early grave. But this? Now? He breathed out an irritated sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck in an all too human gesture he’d picked up.
There was a time that Garrus would have jumped to be with Shepard, albeit he was sure half the galaxy felt the same. He respected her. The way she fought enemies head on. She was like a wildfire gone untamed, laying wreckage in her wake. From his position always on her six, he would marvel in her gracefulness as she slid into cover or over objects, as she charged into the fray and came out the other side grinning, eyes awash in flame. She was beautiful in her own way, he knew that.
Just like Tali was beautiful. A life living in enviro-suits had made her expressive in the way her body moved, the way her voice resonated, sharp mind and wicked curves. They had been through a lot together working with Shepard, and they had both grown so much.
The Desolation of Honesty 5b/?
anonymous
June 20 2012, 05:06:31 UTC
He exited the elevator on the crew deck and made a sharp turn to the washroom. He had to wipe off any evidence of what happened in her quarters, if only for Shepard’s sake. While he splashed water on his face he thought about it more, a heaviness creeping its way into his chest. He’d told Shepard once, that she was probably the only friend he had in this screwed up galaxy. Now as he thought about it more he wondered if maybe it was the other way around.
When he was satisfied he’d gotten rid of the evidence on his face and armour he made his way to engineering to see Tali. He had promised to meet her after he checked on Shepard and she was likely to be wondering where he was by now.
Her whole form seemed to brighten when she saw him walk in. He could feel his mandibles flare slightly in response.
“Is Shepard okay?” Tali asked. “Did you find out why she was down to see you? Bosh’tet, It’s not a trip to somewhere with lots of Banshees is it?” Her eyes widened behind her mask. “Those warped Asari husks… Keelah, every time I hear that wail...” She shuddered lightly and looked up at him, placing her three digit hand on his chest.
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I’m sure there will many trips yet with far too many Banshees.” He paused. “But nothing immediate, and Shepard is… well Shepard…” He let his voice trail off as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
“She seemed pretty upset. I don’t think I’ve seen her like that before. I… I was a little worried.” She tilted her head at him questioning. The interior light of the ship reflecting off her mask momentarily, obscuring what little of her face he could see.
“She has a lot on her shoulders right now, we all do. She just needs some rest.” He tilted his head down to her. “Speaking of, we should probably do the same.”
Re: The Desolation of Honesty 5b/?
anonymous
June 20 2012, 05:13:30 UTC
Damn, my heart goes out to Shepard sitting up in that cabin on her own, left to contemplate things on her own. Great job, anon. Waiting patiently for more.
The Desolation of Honesty 6/?
anonymous
June 20 2012, 05:17:31 UTC
As they made their way to the crew deck one image kept circling Garrus’ thoughts, and it wasn’t about the woman whose hip his hand currently resided on. It was the hollow, sunken features of a woman who was burning. His mind kept focusing him back on Shepard; back to only friend I have in this screwed up galaxy.
“Tali?” Garrus paused as they stepped off the elevator. He walked towards the memorial wall that stood just outside the elevator doors. He put his hands behind his back as he looked over the names, stood there in remembrance of the fallen. Their faces briefly flickering through his mind’s eye as Tali stood beside him snaking her arm into the crook of his elbow, and leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Hmmm?” She asked.
He was glad she wasn’t turian as his sub-vocals wavered for a moment. “Can I ask you an odd question?”
She looked up at him quizzically, he could see her eyes furrow slightly behind the face plate. “What is it?”
He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. He already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. It was how she would respond that worried him, whether she knew it or not.
He could feel his throat tighten. “What is Shepard’s favorite colour?”
Her reaction would have been comical, the way her whole body twisted and how he saw her eyebrow rise beneath her mask. He knew he would have laughed if he didn’t feel like everything was riding on this simple, inane question.
“Tali?” He gripped her shoulders, putting his face flush with hers. There was another waver in his sub-tonals and he could feel apprehension move in.
She looked at him like she thought he was playing some joke. Part of him wanted to laugh it off, say never mind. But some sick desperation clung at him, he needed to know. She was one of the people on the ship who should know, the way she was stammering was making his throat and chest constrict. “An easier one then: What is her favorite type of music?” His voice was tight.
“I…I…”Tali looked at him incredulously. “Garrus, why …”
“What is her go to gun mod? Where did she grow up?” He all but growled, squeezing her shoulders tighter.
“Min…Mindoir…” She stammered out.
He let her go. Mindoir. That was public knowledge, something anyone looking up Shepard on the extranet would know. Tali had been with them since the beginning, he thought, he hoped, she would know. And in her failure, he had his answer: only friend I have in this screwed up galaxy.
He pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned cautiously. “I’m sorry Tali.” He whispered into the hooded material covering her hair. “There’s something I need to look after right now.” He let her go. Regret seeping into his chest as he turned and walked away from her, moving toward the main battery. He didn’t turn when he heard her get back on the elevator. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in her form. He didn’t want her to see the pain on his face.
He had something to finish with Shepard. He knew he couldn’t be with Tali until he had. He could feel a darkness move into his chest, a shadow crossing his features, and an image of a woman burning in her own self-immolation searing itself behind his eyes.
If she was honest it had been then, but it was the slow burn after which caused it to hurt. The long hours tinkering on the MAKO after she had thrown it off some cliff on some back world yet again. Him teasing her as she tried to bend out some dent and she would make some remark about “fucking woman drivers.” and he would laugh in that beautiful dual toned voice of his. Friendship that had developed easily after she agreed to let him join her team, he’d taken too her harshness easily, like the Krogan; Wrex. It was something not many could. Sure they would fear her, treat her with awe or respect, but few would sit with her for long hours talking about gun mods or music. She was use to keeping most at a distance, and letting someone see under her Commander mask was rare.
Relationships with the rest of the crew were mostly cool and calculated on her part, sure she would embrace and laugh easily with them, but for her it was nothing more than professionalism, her Commander mask always firmly in place. But for some reason he always saw through it, even saw that extra spark of red in her eyes during a revenge mission, and seemed to know how she relived Torfan every time she watched as someone put a bullet through the head of their closest enemy. How her lips would twitch in a humourless smile. He’d tried talking to her about it once and what little of the Commander mask that had slipped while around him glued back together quickly and she had let him see nothing more than the Commander until he left the ship.
A death, an Archangel, and a resurrection fell between them the next time Shepard gazed into his piercing blue eyes. She could see a hardness that had moved into his face, but for a brief moment looking into his eyes caused the skip of a heart beat and a genuine smile had graced her features as her arms spread wide.
“Garrus!” The sound of raw emotion coming from her own mouth had made her realise the mask had momentarily fallen and she quickly let it fall back in place, but she saw a flicker in his eyes then, a flicker she wouldn’t see again till the story of a recon scout and of reach and flexibility.
Shepard wished now, that she had told him then. But instead they had laughed and talked about sparring and old conquests and she had spent another night alone in the whispers of her death. Conquests she’d thought bitterly. Any warm body that had ever graced her sheets had been nothing more than a fleeting moment of needing to blow off steam. She had known then, as he used the same words to her about the recon scout; that he was more than that. If she were to allow him to take up the cold spot beside her that she would never be able to let him go. She knew that the warmth of him would melt her mask away and even if she would not admit it, that nakedness scared her.
In her mind she thought it was for the best, and so she tried to silence the whispering ache of her heart in drink and in battle. She would sit with a strong drink and let her mind drown on the image of him older and with family, his beautiful bond mate and children that he would show to her proudly, his eyes searching hers for approval that she would readily give, because it was him. If she were to be honest, she was looking forward to going out in her final blaze of glory if only to silence that whispering in her heart.
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Behind her eyes burned the fires of a thousand stars going supernova and it took all of her strength not to charge the woman that had her arms wrapped around him now. To slam her pretty purple helmeted head in to Thanix Cannon behind them until the mask covering her face cracked and the shards cut into her face and eyes spilling her Quarian blood till it covered the floor in slick reverence. Shepard had always thought their relationship to be platonic, one not unlike that of a brother or sister. She had heard them banter and laugh together but the black hole she felt herself spinning down as she watched them detangle from each other in surprise as Shepard had entered the room, told her she never expected this.
The commander mask fell and shattered at her feet as she looked at them with fierce betrayal. What little trust and love that remained in her cold heart after Mindoir and Torfan died in the liquid pools of his eyes as she stared at him. They fumbled and bumbled in front of her and all she could see was raging hot lava. She wanted to hurt him, to hurt her, the military training of Turian and Quarian weak points suddenly flittering through her mind. Instead she managed to sputter out: “I’m happy for you both.” A lie, a lie she knew he would see easily through. She took the last of her strength and turned and walked out, impressed that her legs didn’t give out on her, that she managed to calmly walk away from what she had just seen even with every muscle in her body telling her to run.
She was overcome with guilt as she made her way to the elevator, wanting nothing more than too be alone in her quarters at that moment. She suddenly regretted ever letting that young Quarian girl on her ship, allowing her a place on her crew. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to go back in time and tell her to continue her pilgrimage elsewhere. A sickness rolled through her as she fought that thought, reminding herself that Tali had never been anything but loyal. Something Shepard couldn’t really say of some of the others that had floated through her life. It wasn’t as if Shepard had made her feelings known, hell she had been doing her best to hide them from herself.
When she finally stumbled into her quarters she looked at the false facets of her humanity and they made her sick. The pale blue glow of the empty fish tank that covered the left side of the room illuminated everything. Her broken helmet and old dog tags taunted her from their place on her desk, the towering display case filled with ships of every race reflected her form and she could see the red burn of the cybernetics under her skin, telling her she was nothing more than a Frankenstein monster created for one purpose, and that purpose didn’t include falling in love.
Feral instincts and shattered glass fell heavy on the room as she ripped and tore. A strangled snarl erupting from her throat and she looked at her unarmoured arms sliced with jagged, already healing cuts of every depth. Blood dripped from her finger tips as she collapsed to her knees, the light from the fish tank dancing off the fallen glass causing the floor to rival the view of the overhead observation window, shards glinting like a thousand stars, broken model ships lying in ruins, a testament of a lost battle.
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“Shepard?” He whispered softly. A miniscule twitch of her shoulders, a movement that had it been anyone else would have gone unnoticed.
He walked cautiously toward her, lowing himself in front of her and slithering his talons over her hands gently entwining her fingers with his.
“I…” He began. He was cut off as she raised her eyes to his, the red glow dissipated and a worn look crossed her features, something that would never cross the face of the great commander Shepard, and in that moment he knew he was looking at someone else, her first name a whisper on his next breath.
“I’m tired Garrus.” A weak sound escaped her throat, causing his mandibles to close tightly to his face. He gathered her up into his arms and crushed her into his chest. She felt thin as he lifted her from the floor and he wondered when she had last eaten, when she had last slept. The hollowness of her cheeks and the dark shadows below her eyes told him it had been too long. Spirits, when had he gotten so selfish?
He knew she had been spending long hours in the war room and the CIC, pouring over report upon report on the Reapers movements, of progress on the Crucible, a weapon they found themselves pouring all their resources into. And Shepard, she had the weight of it all on her shoulders, everyone looking at her for answers. He felt guilt creep into him as he realized he hadn’t been there when she had needed him most, instead he had gone looking for his own comfort elsewhere. He really was a bad Turian.
He lowered her on her bed and when he was satisfied she wasn’t going to go anywhere he went and grabbed some medi-gel from her bathroom. She watched him with glassy eyes as he kneeled beside the bed and gently slathered the cuts on her arms. But when he would raise his eyes to meet hers she would quickly turn away.
“I’m sorry.” He said after a while. “I told you before I was a bad Turian.” Her head snapped up and he briefly caught the fire in her eyes before it tired out again.
“No.” she snapped. “No, you are not going to dump on me that you’re only here out of some fucking sense of duty.” She wretched her arms from his grasp. “Get out.” She pointed fiercely toward the door, but he saw the dampness in her eyes.
“No.” He responded, getting to his feet.
“That was a fucking order, Vakarian.” She seethed through gritted teeth.
He towered over her, causing her to have to turn her face up toward him in a way he knew she hated. It was the council chambers all over again. Him refusing to bow to the intensity of her gaze as she bore into him with everything she had left. He was so focused on her eyes he didn’t see her hand come up.
She grasped his cowl and with a furious tug, pulled his face to hers, startling him as she crushed her lips into the hard plates of his mouth. His eyes widened into surprise and he saw she was still staring into him, and for a moment he was blind.
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Shepard had worked hard at keeping it that way, at building her wall; becoming the fine blade of a sword as she led troops and the sharp snake tongue as she swayed politicians. Knowing full well that the galaxy would continue to take until nothing was left but a broken woman; a woman that knew she would die and from her death they would take again raising her to Legend. A scared little girl from Mindoir pilfered in a one last indignity.
That was until Garrus Vakarian. Even without his signature visor, she knew he saw right through her. She may have been the fiery star the galaxy orbited, but he was the galactic tide. He had so effortlessly chiseled away at her façade it had been too late by the time she noticed. When around him she had laughter that reached her eyes, easiness and camaraderie that rarely showed around others. Garrus like a good infiltrator had made it behind her fences and found that scared little girl from Mindoir, had offered his talon hand to her and she’d accepted.
Now she felt like a fool. The humiliation of it, realising he was only there out of some sick turian sense of duty. Had he ever truly cared for her? Or was he just another person there to take?
He had towered over her, she knew he had done it on purpose, knew how much she hated it. She glared up at him and in the moment that she was going to force him from her chambers, she saw that flicker again. Her hand that had been curling itself in a fist to punch him suddenly changed direction on its own accord and grasped his cowl. Pulling his face towards her, she decided it was her turn to take.
Her soft lips met the hard but pliable plates of his mouth and she darted her tongue into his shocked gasp as she desperately tried to find purchase. A pleased moan rumbling in the back of her throat as his tongue briefly pushed back in a tango with hers. His hands grasped her shoulders hard and for the briefest of moments he pulled her closer before shoving her backward onto the bed. A startled noise escaped her throat as she gazed into his predator eyes, the light of the fish tank glinting softly off the plates of his face causing an odd light to halo around his features and she could see why they had called him Archangel.
He was a raging pillar of light and for the first time in Shepard's life she felt the overwhelming need to look away, but she couldn’t. It was watching a sky car accident in slow motion as he stumbled back to his feet, a look of anger, hurt and betrayal etched on his face and the unmistakable flicker of lust in his eyes. His talons were still slick with her blood and when he ran a hand across his face in disbelief it left new red markings on his face, her mark.
Let Tali see him now. A self-satisfied smirk began to draw itself on her lips.
“Spirits, Shepard.” He growled.
Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes grew dark as she watched him turn and leave. With every heavy clank of his two-toed boots hitting the metal floor, she saw a gaping chasm grow wider and wider.
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Also...you're an evil author anon...leaving us on such a promising cliffhanger :)
Looking forward to what's to come next
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It was a mantra in his head. What. Just. Happened? Garrus swung his head looking bewildered around the elevator.
Why was this thing so slow? He caught his image in a reflective surface as he paced in the small area and his eyes went wide, mouth tumbling slightly agape as he stopped and began to slowly trace the blood stains that now graced his features. Her blood. He could still taste her, an odd bittersweet taste on his tongue. He could remember the feel of her hot breath and he traced a talon over the spot she had kissed him and shook his head.
What had it been? A few hours since Tali had come to see him in the main battery? He remembered how they had been talking, one-upping one another on stories of previous missions. He remembered how it turned to flirting and the way she had run her hand up his arm, her large glowing eyes looking up at him from under the purple cover of her helmet. Things had progressed from there, and he had been enjoying the warmth of her seeping through her suit when Shepard had walked in.
He had seen the fire in Shepard’s eyes, the hollowness in her words. How they had all stood there awkwardly for far too long. At the time he didn’t understand what was going through Shepard’s mind, but the way she had walked away told him to follow. When he’d gotten to her quarters he sure as hell didn’t expect what he walked in on, or what had happened.
He had always felt a touch of pride in being one of the Commander’s good friends, being one of the few she had opened up too. He wasn’t stupid; he knew she didn’t hold most friendships close. But he had thought she didn’t want him that way. Looking back there wasn’t many signs, he remembered at one point even giving her an opening to see if maybe there was something more, but nothing came of it.
His mandibles closed tight to his face as he lifted his head to stare blankly at the ceiling. He knew that he would follow her into hell, let her lead him to an early grave. But this? Now? He breathed out an irritated sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck in an all too human gesture he’d picked up.
There was a time that Garrus would have jumped to be with Shepard, albeit he was sure half the galaxy felt the same. He respected her. The way she fought enemies head on. She was like a wildfire gone untamed, laying wreckage in her wake. From his position always on her six, he would marvel in her gracefulness as she slid into cover or over objects, as she charged into the fray and came out the other side grinning, eyes awash in flame. She was beautiful in her own way, he knew that.
Just like Tali was beautiful. A life living in enviro-suits had made her expressive in the way her body moved, the way her voice resonated, sharp mind and wicked curves. They had been through a lot together working with Shepard, and they had both grown so much.
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When he was satisfied he’d gotten rid of the evidence on his face and armour he made his way to engineering to see Tali. He had promised to meet her after he checked on Shepard and she was likely to be wondering where he was by now.
Her whole form seemed to brighten when she saw him walk in. He could feel his mandibles flare slightly in response.
“Is Shepard okay?” Tali asked. “Did you find out why she was down to see you? Bosh’tet, It’s not a trip to somewhere with lots of Banshees is it?” Her eyes widened behind her mask. “Those warped Asari husks… Keelah, every time I hear that wail...” She shuddered lightly and looked up at him, placing her three digit hand on his chest.
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I’m sure there will many trips yet with far too many Banshees.” He paused. “But nothing immediate, and Shepard is… well Shepard…” He let his voice trail off as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
“She seemed pretty upset. I don’t think I’ve seen her like that before. I… I was a little worried.” She tilted her head at him questioning. The interior light of the ship reflecting off her mask momentarily, obscuring what little of her face he could see.
“She has a lot on her shoulders right now, we all do. She just needs some rest.” He tilted his head down to her. “Speaking of, we should probably do the same.”
“Your place? Or Mine?” was her coy reply.
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“Tali?” Garrus paused as they stepped off the elevator. He walked towards the memorial wall that stood just outside the elevator doors. He put his hands behind his back as he looked over the names, stood there in remembrance of the fallen. Their faces briefly flickering through his mind’s eye as Tali stood beside him snaking her arm into the crook of his elbow, and leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Hmmm?” She asked.
He was glad she wasn’t turian as his sub-vocals wavered for a moment. “Can I ask you an odd question?”
She looked up at him quizzically, he could see her eyes furrow slightly behind the face plate. “What is it?”
He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. He already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. It was how she would respond that worried him, whether she knew it or not.
He could feel his throat tighten. “What is Shepard’s favorite colour?”
Her reaction would have been comical, the way her whole body twisted and how he saw her eyebrow rise beneath her mask. He knew he would have laughed if he didn’t feel like everything was riding on this simple, inane question.
“Tali?” He gripped her shoulders, putting his face flush with hers. There was another waver in his sub-tonals and he could feel apprehension move in.
She looked at him like she thought he was playing some joke. Part of him wanted to laugh it off, say never mind. But some sick desperation clung at him, he needed to know. She was one of the people on the ship who should know, the way she was stammering was making his throat and chest constrict. “An easier one then: What is her favorite type of music?” His voice was tight.
“I…I…”Tali looked at him incredulously. “Garrus, why …”
“What is her go to gun mod? Where did she grow up?” He all but growled, squeezing her shoulders tighter.
“Min…Mindoir…” She stammered out.
He let her go. Mindoir. That was public knowledge, something anyone looking up Shepard on the extranet would know. Tali had been with them since the beginning, he thought, he hoped, she would know. And in her failure, he had his answer: only friend I have in this screwed up galaxy.
He pulled her into a tight hug, which she returned cautiously. “I’m sorry Tali.” He whispered into the hooded material covering her hair. “There’s something I need to look after right now.” He let her go. Regret seeping into his chest as he turned and walked away from her, moving toward the main battery. He didn’t turn when he heard her get back on the elevator. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in her form. He didn’t want her to see the pain on his face.
He had something to finish with Shepard. He knew he couldn’t be with Tali until he had. He could feel a darkness move into his chest, a shadow crossing his features, and an image of a woman burning in her own self-immolation searing itself behind his eyes.
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