Re: Variations on a Theme, with Tank and Gunfire, 4/?
anonymous
June 28 2012, 17:05:47 UTC
That’s the moment she decides she needs to find an excuse to talk to him privately. She’s not sure what to think. She’d almost concluded, at some point, that she must have died, and somehow had been condemned to spend eternity looping back through the most significant years of her life. But... it seems like he remembers things he shouldn’t, and that gives her a tiny, desperate hope that something else is going on.
She picks an insignificant planetary exploration. As best she can recall, there are no thresher maws, no geth ambushes, not much of anything down there. She calls Garrus to suit up and then waits for him in the Mako. He gets in a few minutes later and looks around, puzzled. “Who else is coming, Commander?”
“No one,” she says, starting the ignition. “It’s just you and me.”
He straps into his seat with an uneasy expression.
She drives with no particular purpose, meandering about rather than picking a clear direction. Now that she’s gotten him alone, she’s not sure how to start this conversation. “How’s the work on the weapons systems?”
“Fine. I think I can really improve both accuracy and efficiency.”
“Do you have a lot of experience with systems like this?” She watches him out of the corner of her eye.
He doesn’t give anything away. “The Normandy is partially based on turian designs, so yeah. They’re not so different.”
“Mm-hm.” She asks him a couple more questions about his combat experience, fishing, but he doesn’t say anything specific enough to confirm her suspicions. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” she inquires.
He glances toward her briefly and returns to looking straight ahead. “Just happy to be here, Commander.”
“You don’t seem concerned about my driving any more,” she says, pushing a little.
“Why would I? You’re clearly an excellent driver,” he returns.
She jumps the Mako over a ravine just to show off. He tenses a little, but not much, so she tries another tack. “We’ll be headed back to the Citadel soon. Anywhere you recommend checking out?”
He shifts his weight a little. “Well, you’ll probably find the best weapons at the requisitions office. For armor, there are a couple of shops in the Wards worth trying.”
“What about for fun?”
He shrugs. “Well, Flux is nicer than Chora’s Den. Honestly, Commander, I didn’t have a lot of leisure time-”
“Come on, Garrus,” she says, taking a chance. “What’s your favorite spot on the Citadel?”
Humans only think turians are expressionless because they aren’t paying close enough attention. Their expressions are subtle and change quickly, there and gone in a fraction of a second. If she hadn’t been watching right then, she probably wouldn’t have seen how his face briefly shifts into something agonized. She might have heard the catch of breath as he composes himself, she might have seen in her peripheral vision how his hand tightens into a fist, but without the look on his face, she might have overlooked both these things. His voice is a little strained when he says, “Well, I’d have to say-”
She cuts him off as she brings the Mako to a stop. “Garrus?”
“Yes, Commander?”
She turns off the ignition and turns toward him, looks him squarely in the eyes. His reaction before felt like evidence enough, but now he’s unreadable, his expression calm and controlled. She leans toward him, searching his face. There’s a tiny flicker in those pale blue eyes. She says again, more softly, “Garrus?”
He tilts his head toward her slightly. The undertones of his voice seem both tight and hopeful as he says, “Shepard?” Not Commander. He hasn’t been using her name this time, not yet.
She pulls off her gauntlet, her heart pounding, and lays her hand on his right mandible, smooth and whole and unscarred under her touch. She can feel it trembling, his eyes fixed on hers. “It’s the top of the Presidium,” she whispers, “and you’re the king of the bottle shooters.” She always, always, lets him win.
She picks an insignificant planetary exploration. As best she can recall, there are no thresher maws, no geth ambushes, not much of anything down there. She calls Garrus to suit up and then waits for him in the Mako. He gets in a few minutes later and looks around, puzzled. “Who else is coming, Commander?”
“No one,” she says, starting the ignition. “It’s just you and me.”
He straps into his seat with an uneasy expression.
She drives with no particular purpose, meandering about rather than picking a clear direction. Now that she’s gotten him alone, she’s not sure how to start this conversation. “How’s the work on the weapons systems?”
“Fine. I think I can really improve both accuracy and efficiency.”
“Do you have a lot of experience with systems like this?” She watches him out of the corner of her eye.
He doesn’t give anything away. “The Normandy is partially based on turian designs, so yeah. They’re not so different.”
“Mm-hm.” She asks him a couple more questions about his combat experience, fishing, but he doesn’t say anything specific enough to confirm her suspicions. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” she inquires.
He glances toward her briefly and returns to looking straight ahead. “Just happy to be here, Commander.”
“You don’t seem concerned about my driving any more,” she says, pushing a little.
“Why would I? You’re clearly an excellent driver,” he returns.
She jumps the Mako over a ravine just to show off. He tenses a little, but not much, so she tries another tack. “We’ll be headed back to the Citadel soon. Anywhere you recommend checking out?”
He shifts his weight a little. “Well, you’ll probably find the best weapons at the requisitions office. For armor, there are a couple of shops in the Wards worth trying.”
“What about for fun?”
He shrugs. “Well, Flux is nicer than Chora’s Den. Honestly, Commander, I didn’t have a lot of leisure time-”
“Come on, Garrus,” she says, taking a chance. “What’s your favorite spot on the Citadel?”
Humans only think turians are expressionless because they aren’t paying close enough attention. Their expressions are subtle and change quickly, there and gone in a fraction of a second. If she hadn’t been watching right then, she probably wouldn’t have seen how his face briefly shifts into something agonized. She might have heard the catch of breath as he composes himself, she might have seen in her peripheral vision how his hand tightens into a fist, but without the look on his face, she might have overlooked both these things. His voice is a little strained when he says, “Well, I’d have to say-”
She cuts him off as she brings the Mako to a stop. “Garrus?”
“Yes, Commander?”
She turns off the ignition and turns toward him, looks him squarely in the eyes. His reaction before felt like evidence enough, but now he’s unreadable, his expression calm and controlled. She leans toward him, searching his face. There’s a tiny flicker in those pale blue eyes. She says again, more softly, “Garrus?”
He tilts his head toward her slightly. The undertones of his voice seem both tight and hopeful as he says, “Shepard?” Not Commander. He hasn’t been using her name this time, not yet.
She pulls off her gauntlet, her heart pounding, and lays her hand on his right mandible, smooth and whole and unscarred under her touch. She can feel it trembling, his eyes fixed on hers. “It’s the top of the Presidium,” she whispers, “and you’re the king of the bottle shooters.” She always, always, lets him win.
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Woohoo. This is great! Please please please please update soon
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I wish I had something better to say but I'm just too overjoyed at this update. Eagerly awaiting more!
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take your time author!anon, i'm sure it'll be worth the wait
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I am SCREAMING AHHHHH
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She always, always, lets him win.
*faint*
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*faints*
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Oh god, sobbing ensues!! It's disgusting and it has snot and choked laughter, too. I'm a pansie.
I fooking love this fill. Like, really really. Don't stop, for the love of anon, don't stop!!
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