Earth Angel part 4/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 10:04:43 UTC
She made a stop at the water pump to fill a bucket and carried it up the five steps to the wide wraparound porch. When she started shifting around the flashlight and shotgun to free one of her hands, Garrus reached past her and opened the door for her. She noticed that he had only three fingers and it looked like they were tipped with short, curved talons but he was wearing black gloves under his gauntlets so she couldn’t be sure. She kicked off her boots and, after a long pause during which she decided that if he was going to kill her he’d have done it by now and buckshot probably wouldn’t penetrate his armor anyway, put the shotgun back in the closet. When she turned around Garrus was still outside on the porch scraping the dirt from the bottoms of his boots with the shoe brush. It was such a small gesture of consideration, but he earned a lot of points with her for it.
While the Shepard homestead was firmly in the Virginia countryside, it was close enough to Richmond for them to have electricity; a luxury not many farm houses had yet further out from the city. She turned on the lamps in the living room, the shadows retreating into the corners of the high ceilings and pooled under the furniture. There were two couches facing each other with a coffee table in between, two chairs flanking the wide doorway, a bookcase full to overflowing with paperbacks and comic books, and a curio cabinet with a set of nice china dishes from her mother. She led Garrus into the room and he sat down on the couch, dropping the gunny sack on the floor next to him. Shepard carried the bucket of water into the kitchen and fired up the stove to boil some water for tea. As she set about the mundane task of fetching mugs and teabags, her mind began to supply her with all the reasons she absolutely should not have a god damned space alien in her house.
That crash was loud enough to wake you out of a dead sleep, surely someone must have heard it? There wasn’t another house for two miles in any direction; any sound that managed to carry that far could easily be explained away as thunder or something.
What are you going to do about the flaming space ship in the woods? Well, first of all the fire had gone out by the time they’d left it, and actually that was the easy part of this little adventure. She could go out in the morning and tow it into the barn, cover it with a tarp, and it would blend right in with the scenery. Unless someone got curious, it would look like just another covered piece of machinery.
What if the police try to shut down the still again and see him? What if the hired hands see him? That was going to be the most problematic part of this situation. Shepard had no illusions about what the general public’s reaction would be to proof of alien life, and it wouldn’t be pretty. These days people had a hard enough time dealing with people of different colors, let alone an entirely different species. She had heard of a place in Nevada called Area 51 that was rumored to have found a UFO and was into all sorts of experiments and research about aliens. If the authorities got wind of what had happened here, things could go south really quickly. But, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
There was no point in worrying about the future quite yet, though, so she shoved all her doubts aside and carried the tea out to the living room. Garrus had appropriated the coffee table for a workstation and the box he’d retrieved from the ship was disassembled and its guts spread over the dark wood. She offered him a cup and he took it, sniffing experimentally. He hummed appreciatively, but set the mug aside without tasting it. Maybe he doesn’t like people-food, she thought. In that case, she hoped he had rations or something in that sack of his.
Earth Angel part 5/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 11:24:40 UTC
Suddenly his left forearm lit up with bright orange light and Shepard nearly dropped her tea in surprise. It was some sort of translucent glove made of light with a screen that hovered in midair a few inches over the glowing gauntlet. Alien characters scrolled down the display and Garrus’ fingers danced over the row of buttons on his arm (they weren’t really buttons at all, though-more like he passed his talons through the orange-outlined pictures of buttons to activate them), then he waved his hand over two tiny circular things on the table. When he was done, the glove disappeared and he held up the tiny devices and looked at her, pointing first to them and then to the side of his head. Shepard shook her head, confused, and Garrus sighed. He went over and knelt down next to her, impossibly close, and her heart started trip-hammering away in her chest. In the bright light of her living room he was even more formidable and she was a little nervous about having him so close to her, no matter how sure she was that he meant her no harm. Garrus reached out slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to run away, and when she didn’t he brushed her hair away from her ear and with great care pressed one of the tiny metallic circles onto the inside of her tragus. She was struck by how warm he was; she could feel the heat radiating against her face. He turned her head so he could do the same thing on the other side, then the orange glove appeared on his arm again and he waved it in front of her face.
“Can you hear me now?” he asked, and Shepard nearly fell off the couch in shock. A huge grin broke out on her face.
“Oh my god, I can understand you!” she replied and she had to fight the urge to let out an ecstatic whoop.
“Those things in your ears are translators. They’re harmless, don’t worry.” He went back to his spot on the couch and leaned back with a smile. “So, now that we can actually speak to each other, do you have any questions for me?”
“Only about a zillion.” Her mind was whirling with the possibilities; how many chances like this was she going to get in a lifetime? “Okay, um . . . well, I guess we should start with how you got here.”
“Well,” he drawled with a playful smirk, “I’d have thought my ship would have made that pretty obvious.”
Shepard gaped at him for half a second before busting out laughing. “Oh, heaven help us,” she managed to say between attempts to catch her breath, “it’s the invasion of the smart-asses!” Garrus chuckled and looked thoroughly pleased with himself for finally dispelling the last of the tension between them. “I suppose I should have asked why you’re here,” she said when she’d calmed down.
“Well, what happens most of the time when a species becomes technologically advanced enough to begin developing the means for space travel is that species is then monitored by my people and by the other races in the galactic Council. Keeping tabs, gathering intel, making sure we know as much as we can before first contact. I was here to repair a beacon in the area that had malfunctioned, but something in the engines shorted out and I crashed. Luckily I was at a low altitude when the malfunction occurred or else I’d have been nothing but a crater.”
“Hang on, there’s a galactic Council? How many other races are there?” Shepard was practically bouncing up and down with all the questions she wanted to bombard him with. Christmas had come early this year in the Shepard house.
Earth Angel part 6/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 12:39:05 UTC
A/N--According to Wikipedia, X Minus 1 was a sci fi radio show broadcast by NBC that aired from 1955 until 1958. __________
Garrus called up the glowing device on his arm and fiddled with it while he spoke. “The galactic Council is made up of representatives from each member species; the asari, the salarians, and the turians. The turians are my people.” An accompanying image popped up on the floating display as he listed the names of the Council member races-a beautiful blue-skinned woman with a graceful sweep of what looked like tentacles on her head; a flat-faced creature with wide eyes that looked vaguely amphibious; and an alien that resembled Garrus except for its mandibles, which were a little wider, and its facial tattoos, which were white and covered more of its face. She hadn’t taken the time to look at Garrus’ blue markings before but now she studied them intently, wondering if they were merely ornamental or if they meant something more. “There are other races,” he continued, “but those three are the main governing body. The Earth equivalent that you would be familiar with is your state and federal Congress. Each species governs itself, but when it comes to matters of galactic cooperation the Council steps in.”
“This is . . . amazing,” Shepard said, waving her empty mug around. “I mean, yesterday I was listening to ‘X Minus 1’, and now there’s an alien in my living room. It’s a little much to take in.”
“Honestly, you’re handling this a lot better than I could have expected. Most people would have shot me on sight or fainted, but you made me tea.” He smiled at her again in that very toothy way of his, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Damn if she wasn’t really enjoying his company; his melodious drawl was a balm to her ears and he had a relaxed manner about him that put her at ease.
“Hey, aren’t you worried about telling me all this stuff? Sharing galactic secrets and all that jazz?”
“Not really. It’s not like you could do anything about it anyway; your people haven’t even made it to your moon yet, let alone anywhere near the Citadel.” He propped his elbows on his knees and started working on the array of electronics spread out on the coffee table. The disparity between the foreign technology and the cabbage rose patterned domesticity of her living room was striking.
“What is that thing, anyway?”
“It’s supposed to transmit my location back to the main ship, but it’s damaged. Not irreparable, but it’s going to take some time to get it running again.”
“Won’t they worry if you fall out of radio contact?”
“The ship does a scan of all maintenance vessels but they were expecting to lose contact with me at least momentarily while I repaired the beacon. They’ll send someone to look for me after two days, but I’m about two hundred miles out from where I’m supposed to be.”
She considered the implications of this for a moment. “Anything I can do?”
“Not really. It doesn’t look bad, but I need to get back to the ship for parts so I can fix the transmitter.”
“We can go out in the morning; I was thinking we could put it in the barn for now until we can figure out what to do with it.”
He looked up at her then and the look in his eyes was soft and unreadable. “That’s a good idea, keep it away from prying eyes.” He regarded her thoughtfully and she tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. “Why do you want to help me?”
Earth Angel part 7/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 15:23:26 UTC
Shepard stared silently into her tea as if it could give her an answer that wouldn’t sound overly sentimental. “I spent a lot of time as a kid staring up at the stars, wondering if we were all alone in the universe. Now that I know we’re not, I’m going to get as much out of the experience as I can. It’s not like humans are going to master space travel in my lifetime; when am I gonna get another chance like this?” She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “Besides, you seem like one of the good guys. Anything I can do to help out, just name it.”
“Just being good company is enough.” He cocked a grin at her before returning to his work. “Now it’s my turn to ask some questions.”
They talked long into the night, learning about each other. She discovered he was a recon scout with the turian military, that his favorite movie was called "The Indomitable" about the turian role in the krogan rebellions (she tried to follow along, but she might as well have taken out her translator for all the sense he made; it was fun listening to him talk about it, though), and that the tattoos on his face were actually Vakarian family clan markings. He asked her about the farm and what they grew there, what kind of music she liked, the state of the world now that the war was well and truly over. With only a few hours to go before dawn, they fell into a companionable silence. It wasn’t until Garrus heard her breathing deep and rhythmically that he realized she had fallen asleep, her hair fanned out behind her on a throw pillow and her bare feet tucked up on the couch. He set down the transmitter and took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, shook it out, and put it over her. She stirred just long enough to pull it up under her chin and burrow into the pillow before going still again.
He sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table and watched her sleep, asking himself for the hundredth time that night what the hell he thought he was doing. Interaction with land-bound species was strictly forbidden and if anyone found out he was actually in a human’s house and that he’d loaned her his spare translator he would be in deep shit. These were extenuating circumstances, though, and he thought he could explain it away to his CO; the name Vakarian still carried some weight and he was well-respected among his fellow soldiers. The thing was, if he was being completely honest, there was something inherently compelling about this unassuming human and he found himself drawn to her. He couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.
When humans had first been discovered, they were still a relatively primitive people. However, in the past century alone they had gone from horse and buggy transport to dogfighting over the Pacific. It was truly astonishing how far they’d come in just one of their lifetimes. The human race was fascinating to observe; they were the most varied species anyone had ever come in contact with. Everyone who went Earth-side had a primer on basic human behavior and physiology that they were expected to know backward and forward, but Garrus had taken it upon himself to look deeper into the emergent species’ culture. They had the blood thirst of the krogan, the insatiable curiosity of the salarians, the honor and discipline of the turians, and the appreciation for beauty of the asari. They were capable of horrible things, like what happened during their Great War over a decade ago, but they also had the capacity for boundless compassion.
Earth Angel part 7a/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 15:24:40 UTC
Silly character limits. __________
As intriguing as humans were to study, Garrus had never come into direct contact with one before. His instructors had expounded at great length about the dangers of falling prey to humans, all the terrible things they’d done to their own people, their tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. He would never have guessed that his first encounter would go quite like this. It was almost frightening how easy it was to talk to her, and she had a curiosity that matched or exceeded his own. When he had first laid eyes on her in the woods she was scared, sure, but she hadn’t screamed or run away or shot him. And now she trusted him enough to sleep in his presence; it was strangely endearing.
He settled back on the couch across from her and tried to get comfortable. After a few moments of attempting to establish a connection to the Fearless he gave up and tried not to think about how relieved that made him as he drifted off to sleep.
Earth Angel part 8/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 20:26:28 UTC
Humbled A!A here, guys, thanks for all the comments! You're really helping me keep up the momentum. I keep going over the story so far and finding little things that I could change (Shep has an empty mug, then suddenly there's tea in it again) but hopefully it's not too jarring. I'll probably post a cleaned-up copy to ff.net when this is over. Anyway, updates ahoy! __________
Shepard woke early, as usual; neither rain nor sleet nor crash-landed turians would keep this life-long farm girl from rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn. Said turian was passed out on her couch, snoring softly, his mandibles flicking in his sleep. She stifled a giggle and stood up to stretch (sleeping on the couch was not good for her back at all), then padded lightly upstairs, making sure to skip the squeaky one. The gray morning light was all her eyes could stand at this hour as she brushed the morning out of her mouth and smoothed her hair back. After a futile attempt to tame the great red monster growing out of her head, she opted to just pile it up and tie a bandanna over it. She put on a pair of jeans that had been stained so many times that the original color was anyone’s guess, and one of her brother’s old plaid work shirts with mother-of-pearl snaps and epaulettes. It was one of her favorites, the fabric worn so thin it felt like peach skin and smelled of burning leaves.
Shepard went back downstairs and poked her head into the living room to verify that yes, Garrus was still asleep, before going into the kitchen to check the ice box. They’d have to order more milk from the Williamses soon-their dairy was about three miles down the road and Ashley was always willing to trade a few gallons for some of Shepard’s apple butter and a jar of ‘shine. She pulled out some bacon and eggs and brought down her favorite cast iron skillet from its place on the wall. The morning light was brightening and slanting through the windows, the house was full of the smell of frying bacon, and Shepard set about planning how to lug the wreckage of Garrus’ ship out of the woods without anyone seeing it.
“Life could be a dream, if I could take you up in paradise up above,” she sang, her voice pitched low. “If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love, life could be a dream, sweetheart. Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hoping we’ll meet again.” She set a pot of coffee on the back burner and was going to check the bread box for biscuits when she spotted Garrus leaning in the kitchen doorway with an amused half-smile on his face.
“Hey there,” he said, pushing off and wandering into the kitchen. “What was that you were singing?”
“It’s called ‘Sh-Boom’ by The Chords. I had that record on all the time last summer.”
“You have a nice voice, you know.”
Shepard smiled sheepishly and had to turn away to hide the blush that colored her face. Oh Jesus, Jane, stop acting like a teenager! “You sleep all right?”
“Well enough, I guess. I wouldn’t want to do it all the time, though. You?”
“Same. My back isn’t what it used to be, and it’s been reminding me all morning,” she said, knuckling her lower back to illustrate the point.
He chuckled, his sub-vocals reverberating warmly. “I know the feeling. I think I must have pulled something in the crash.”
“Well, aren’t we the walking wounded this morning?” She shot him a grin and turned back to the stove to load up her plate. “Do you want any of this? It’s bacon and eggs; I don’t know if human food would agree with you, though.”
“It wouldn’t. The biology is a bit complicated, but basically it wouldn’t have any nutritional value and I’ll probably have a mild reaction to it.”
“Is there anything you can eat?”
“I have about a month’s worth of ration packs with me. All I need is some boiling water and I’ll do the rest.”
Earth Angel part 9/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 20:28:50 UTC
They sat down at the table and she watched him eat. His mouth didn’t close completely, so he had to tilt his head back and swallow each bite with minimal chewing. Those teeth of his looked more suited to piercing and tearing, and so did the rest of him for that matter. Maybe turians were what the dinosaurs would have evolved into had they not been wiped out. There were evolutionary biologists out there who would kill for the chance to study him . . . and that was one hell of a sobering thought. If she’d learned anything about human nature from watching the news reels showing the concentration camps in Auschwitz and Dachau, it was that for every person with good intentions there was someone else willing to exploit them. No, she had to play this very carefully from here on out.
Once they had finished, she led him out the back door and into the barn where the truck was parked. She grabbed a length of chain and a large burlap tarp and tossed them into the trailer, then had Garrus help her back up to the trailer so she could hook it on. The truck was a 1948 Ford F6 that had seen better days and it was a monster to drive; you had to have arms of steel to steer it and it took a bit of cranking to get it to turn over, but it was built like a tank and ran with minimal maintenance. The one feature she needed it for today, though, was its ability to haul heavy loads.
Garrus climbed into the passenger seat and they set off, bumping across the field to the tree line. She recognized the spot immediately and unhitched the trailer, then backed as far as she could into the trees. She was pleased to find that she was able to get within about twenty feet of the ship before the trees grew too thick to pass between.
They went to inspect the ship, and in broad daylight the damage was even worse than she remembered. There were bright scars shearing though a few trees along the landing path and a considerable amount of debris piled up around the front. The fire hadn’t damaged it overmuch from what she could see, and she hoped Garrus was able to find all the components he needed. He circled around the ship and pushed against it experimentally. It didn’t budge, but it didn’t look as though it was buried too deep; if the truck could get enough traction, they could probably move it. It would be getting it through the trees that could prove problematic.
The whole operation turned out to be a lot easier than she thought, though. They hauled it out with only one hang up, and dragged it up onto the trailer. They covered it with the burlap and tied it down, then hitched the trailer back up and hauled the ship back to the barn. It only took about two hours, and most of that was spent trying to figure out where to secure the chains so they wouldn’t snap in half and kill somebody. Shepard breathed a lot easier once they were back in the relative safety of the barn. __________
AN--Part 10 will be posted as a reply to part 1 so the text doesn't get too scrunched up.
While the Shepard homestead was firmly in the Virginia countryside, it was close enough to Richmond for them to have electricity; a luxury not many farm houses had yet further out from the city. She turned on the lamps in the living room, the shadows retreating into the corners of the high ceilings and pooled under the furniture. There were two couches facing each other with a coffee table in between, two chairs flanking the wide doorway, a bookcase full to overflowing with paperbacks and comic books, and a curio cabinet with a set of nice china dishes from her mother. She led Garrus into the room and he sat down on the couch, dropping the gunny sack on the floor next to him. Shepard carried the bucket of water into the kitchen and fired up the stove to boil some water for tea. As she set about the mundane task of fetching mugs and teabags, her mind began to supply her with all the reasons she absolutely should not have a god damned space alien in her house.
That crash was loud enough to wake you out of a dead sleep, surely someone must have heard it? There wasn’t another house for two miles in any direction; any sound that managed to carry that far could easily be explained away as thunder or something.
What are you going to do about the flaming space ship in the woods? Well, first of all the fire had gone out by the time they’d left it, and actually that was the easy part of this little adventure. She could go out in the morning and tow it into the barn, cover it with a tarp, and it would blend right in with the scenery. Unless someone got curious, it would look like just another covered piece of machinery.
What if the police try to shut down the still again and see him? What if the hired hands see him? That was going to be the most problematic part of this situation. Shepard had no illusions about what the general public’s reaction would be to proof of alien life, and it wouldn’t be pretty. These days people had a hard enough time dealing with people of different colors, let alone an entirely different species. She had heard of a place in Nevada called Area 51 that was rumored to have found a UFO and was into all sorts of experiments and research about aliens. If the authorities got wind of what had happened here, things could go south really quickly. But, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
There was no point in worrying about the future quite yet, though, so she shoved all her doubts aside and carried the tea out to the living room. Garrus had appropriated the coffee table for a workstation and the box he’d retrieved from the ship was disassembled and its guts spread over the dark wood. She offered him a cup and he took it, sniffing experimentally. He hummed appreciatively, but set the mug aside without tasting it. Maybe he doesn’t like people-food, she thought. In that case, she hoped he had rations or something in that sack of his.
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“Can you hear me now?” he asked, and Shepard nearly fell off the couch in shock. A huge grin broke out on her face.
“Oh my god, I can understand you!” she replied and she had to fight the urge to let out an ecstatic whoop.
“Those things in your ears are translators. They’re harmless, don’t worry.” He went back to his spot on the couch and leaned back with a smile. “So, now that we can actually speak to each other, do you have any questions for me?”
“Only about a zillion.” Her mind was whirling with the possibilities; how many chances like this was she going to get in a lifetime? “Okay, um . . . well, I guess we should start with how you got here.”
“Well,” he drawled with a playful smirk, “I’d have thought my ship would have made that pretty obvious.”
Shepard gaped at him for half a second before busting out laughing. “Oh, heaven help us,” she managed to say between attempts to catch her breath, “it’s the invasion of the smart-asses!” Garrus chuckled and looked thoroughly pleased with himself for finally dispelling the last of the tension between them. “I suppose I should have asked why you’re here,” she said when she’d calmed down.
“Well, what happens most of the time when a species becomes technologically advanced enough to begin developing the means for space travel is that species is then monitored by my people and by the other races in the galactic Council. Keeping tabs, gathering intel, making sure we know as much as we can before first contact. I was here to repair a beacon in the area that had malfunctioned, but something in the engines shorted out and I crashed. Luckily I was at a low altitude when the malfunction occurred or else I’d have been nothing but a crater.”
“Hang on, there’s a galactic Council? How many other races are there?” Shepard was practically bouncing up and down with all the questions she wanted to bombard him with. Christmas had come early this year in the Shepard house.
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__________
Garrus called up the glowing device on his arm and fiddled with it while he spoke. “The galactic Council is made up of representatives from each member species; the asari, the salarians, and the turians. The turians are my people.” An accompanying image popped up on the floating display as he listed the names of the Council member races-a beautiful blue-skinned woman with a graceful sweep of what looked like tentacles on her head; a flat-faced creature with wide eyes that looked vaguely amphibious; and an alien that resembled Garrus except for its mandibles, which were a little wider, and its facial tattoos, which were white and covered more of its face. She hadn’t taken the time to look at Garrus’ blue markings before but now she studied them intently, wondering if they were merely ornamental or if they meant something more.
“There are other races,” he continued, “but those three are the main governing body. The Earth equivalent that you would be familiar with is your state and federal Congress. Each species governs itself, but when it comes to matters of galactic cooperation the Council steps in.”
“This is . . . amazing,” Shepard said, waving her empty mug around. “I mean, yesterday I was listening to ‘X Minus 1’, and now there’s an alien in my living room. It’s a little much to take in.”
“Honestly, you’re handling this a lot better than I could have expected. Most people would have shot me on sight or fainted, but you made me tea.” He smiled at her again in that very toothy way of his, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Damn if she wasn’t really enjoying his company; his melodious drawl was a balm to her ears and he had a relaxed manner about him that put her at ease.
“Hey, aren’t you worried about telling me all this stuff? Sharing galactic secrets and all that jazz?”
“Not really. It’s not like you could do anything about it anyway; your people haven’t even made it to your moon yet, let alone anywhere near the Citadel.” He propped his elbows on his knees and started working on the array of electronics spread out on the coffee table. The disparity between the foreign technology and the cabbage rose patterned domesticity of her living room was striking.
“What is that thing, anyway?”
“It’s supposed to transmit my location back to the main ship, but it’s damaged. Not irreparable, but it’s going to take some time to get it running again.”
“Won’t they worry if you fall out of radio contact?”
“The ship does a scan of all maintenance vessels but they were expecting to lose contact with me at least momentarily while I repaired the beacon. They’ll send someone to look for me after two days, but I’m about two hundred miles out from where I’m supposed to be.”
She considered the implications of this for a moment. “Anything I can do?”
“Not really. It doesn’t look bad, but I need to get back to the ship for parts so I can fix the transmitter.”
“We can go out in the morning; I was thinking we could put it in the barn for now until we can figure out what to do with it.”
He looked up at her then and the look in his eyes was soft and unreadable. “That’s a good idea, keep it away from prying eyes.” He regarded her thoughtfully and she tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. “Why do you want to help me?”
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Love it so far, can't wait for more!
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“Just being good company is enough.” He cocked a grin at her before returning to his work. “Now it’s my turn to ask some questions.”
They talked long into the night, learning about each other. She discovered he was a recon scout with the turian military, that his favorite movie was called "The Indomitable" about the turian role in the krogan rebellions (she tried to follow along, but she might as well have taken out her translator for all the sense he made; it was fun listening to him talk about it, though), and that the tattoos on his face were actually Vakarian family clan markings. He asked her about the farm and what they grew there, what kind of music she liked, the state of the world now that the war was well and truly over. With only a few hours to go before dawn, they fell into a companionable silence. It wasn’t until Garrus heard her breathing deep and rhythmically that he realized she had fallen asleep, her hair fanned out behind her on a throw pillow and her bare feet tucked up on the couch. He set down the transmitter and took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, shook it out, and put it over her. She stirred just long enough to pull it up under her chin and burrow into the pillow before going still again.
He sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table and watched her sleep, asking himself for the hundredth time that night what the hell he thought he was doing. Interaction with land-bound species was strictly forbidden and if anyone found out he was actually in a human’s house and that he’d loaned her his spare translator he would be in deep shit. These were extenuating circumstances, though, and he thought he could explain it away to his CO; the name Vakarian still carried some weight and he was well-respected among his fellow soldiers. The thing was, if he was being completely honest, there was something inherently compelling about this unassuming human and he found himself drawn to her. He couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.
When humans had first been discovered, they were still a relatively primitive people. However, in the past century alone they had gone from horse and buggy transport to dogfighting over the Pacific. It was truly astonishing how far they’d come in just one of their lifetimes. The human race was fascinating to observe; they were the most varied species anyone had ever come in contact with. Everyone who went Earth-side had a primer on basic human behavior and physiology that they were expected to know backward and forward, but Garrus had taken it upon himself to look deeper into the emergent species’ culture. They had the blood thirst of the krogan, the insatiable curiosity of the salarians, the honor and discipline of the turians, and the appreciation for beauty of the asari. They were capable of horrible things, like what happened during their Great War over a decade ago, but they also had the capacity for boundless compassion.
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__________
As intriguing as humans were to study, Garrus had never come into direct contact with one before. His instructors had expounded at great length about the dangers of falling prey to humans, all the terrible things they’d done to their own people, their tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. He would never have guessed that his first encounter would go quite like this. It was almost frightening how easy it was to talk to her, and she had a curiosity that matched or exceeded his own. When he had first laid eyes on her in the woods she was scared, sure, but she hadn’t screamed or run away or shot him. And now she trusted him enough to sleep in his presence; it was strangely endearing.
He settled back on the couch across from her and tried to get comfortable. After a few moments of attempting to establish a connection to the Fearless he gave up and tried not to think about how relieved that made him as he drifted off to sleep.
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Shepard woke early, as usual; neither rain nor sleet nor crash-landed turians would keep this life-long farm girl from rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn. Said turian was passed out on her couch, snoring softly, his mandibles flicking in his sleep. She stifled a giggle and stood up to stretch (sleeping on the couch was not good for her back at all), then padded lightly upstairs, making sure to skip the squeaky one. The gray morning light was all her eyes could stand at this hour as she brushed the morning out of her mouth and smoothed her hair back. After a futile attempt to tame the great red monster growing out of her head, she opted to just pile it up and tie a bandanna over it. She put on a pair of jeans that had been stained so many times that the original color was anyone’s guess, and one of her brother’s old plaid work shirts with mother-of-pearl snaps and epaulettes. It was one of her favorites, the fabric worn so thin it felt like peach skin and smelled of burning leaves.
Shepard went back downstairs and poked her head into the living room to verify that yes, Garrus was still asleep, before going into the kitchen to check the ice box. They’d have to order more milk from the Williamses soon-their dairy was about three miles down the road and Ashley was always willing to trade a few gallons for some of Shepard’s apple butter and a jar of ‘shine. She pulled out some bacon and eggs and brought down her favorite cast iron skillet from its place on the wall. The morning light was brightening and slanting through the windows, the house was full of the smell of frying bacon, and Shepard set about planning how to lug the wreckage of Garrus’ ship out of the woods without anyone seeing it.
“Life could be a dream, if I could take you up in paradise up above,” she sang, her voice pitched low. “If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love, life could be a dream, sweetheart. Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hoping we’ll meet again.” She set a pot of coffee on the back burner and was going to check the bread box for biscuits when she spotted Garrus leaning in the kitchen doorway with an amused half-smile on his face.
“Hey there,” he said, pushing off and wandering into the kitchen. “What was that you were singing?”
“It’s called ‘Sh-Boom’ by The Chords. I had that record on all the time last summer.”
“You have a nice voice, you know.”
Shepard smiled sheepishly and had to turn away to hide the blush that colored her face. Oh Jesus, Jane, stop acting like a teenager! “You sleep all right?”
“Well enough, I guess. I wouldn’t want to do it all the time, though. You?”
“Same. My back isn’t what it used to be, and it’s been reminding me all morning,” she said, knuckling her lower back to illustrate the point.
He chuckled, his sub-vocals reverberating warmly. “I know the feeling. I think I must have pulled something in the crash.”
“Well, aren’t we the walking wounded this morning?” She shot him a grin and turned back to the stove to load up her plate. “Do you want any of this? It’s bacon and eggs; I don’t know if human food would agree with you, though.”
“It wouldn’t. The biology is a bit complicated, but basically it wouldn’t have any nutritional value and I’ll probably have a mild reaction to it.”
“Is there anything you can eat?”
“I have about a month’s worth of ration packs with me. All I need is some boiling water and I’ll do the rest.”
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Once they had finished, she led him out the back door and into the barn where the truck was parked. She grabbed a length of chain and a large burlap tarp and tossed them into the trailer, then had Garrus help her back up to the trailer so she could hook it on. The truck was a 1948 Ford F6 that had seen better days and it was a monster to drive; you had to have arms of steel to steer it and it took a bit of cranking to get it to turn over, but it was built like a tank and ran with minimal maintenance. The one feature she needed it for today, though, was its ability to haul heavy loads.
Garrus climbed into the passenger seat and they set off, bumping across the field to the tree line. She recognized the spot immediately and unhitched the trailer, then backed as far as she could into the trees. She was pleased to find that she was able to get within about twenty feet of the ship before the trees grew too thick to pass between.
They went to inspect the ship, and in broad daylight the damage was even worse than she remembered. There were bright scars shearing though a few trees along the landing path and a considerable amount of debris piled up around the front. The fire hadn’t damaged it overmuch from what she could see, and she hoped Garrus was able to find all the components he needed. He circled around the ship and pushed against it experimentally. It didn’t budge, but it didn’t look as though it was buried too deep; if the truck could get enough traction, they could probably move it. It would be getting it through the trees that could prove problematic.
The whole operation turned out to be a lot easier than she thought, though. They hauled it out with only one hang up, and dragged it up onto the trailer. They covered it with the burlap and tied it down, then hitched the trailer back up and hauled the ship back to the barn. It only took about two hours, and most of that was spent trying to figure out where to secure the chains so they wouldn’t snap in half and kill somebody. Shepard breathed a lot easier once they were back in the relative safety of the barn.
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AN--Part 10 will be posted as a reply to part 1 so the text doesn't get too scrunched up.
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