There was a frequency in my head that I couldn't seem to calibrate. It wasn't an encrypted transmission or a priority-one alert from C-Sec Command. It was a phantom signal, a persistent ripple in my subharmonics that activated every time I closed my eyes. And sometimes, like now, when I had them wide open.
I wasn't looking at my Omnitool screen, reviewing the security logs for the Presidium docks as I should have been. Instead, I was staring at the empty space where she had been standing just moments ago.
Johnās little sister. The "Minion" with the 5,000-volt legal mind and the body of damaged silk. My ward. My friend.
And, by the Spirits, that image remained seared beneath my visor. It wasn't a memory of her voice or her poetry; it was a visceral imprint of her departure. The way her dress had pulled tight as she turned, the soft, rounded, and juicy movement of her backside as she walked away. It was a shape my mind didn't know how to categorize, but my body... my body wanted to seize it. A primal urge to reach out and simply squeeze that softness against the hardness of my plates.
"Itās for John," I lied to myself, a desperate attempt to regain my control, my sanity. "Iām just looking out for her. Shepard is gone, and Iām the only support she has left. I have to watch over her. Itās my duty."
But the pulse in my crest and the drop in my subharmonics weren't about duty. It was an attraction I didn't want to acknowledgeāa betrayal of my mentorās memory.
"Vakarian..." Chellickās voice sliced through my mental storm like a kinetic barrier.
I didn't have to look up. He was there, leaning against the frame of my cubicle with that smirk of self-importance that always meant heād uncovered a secret. Chellick didn't do nuances; he was pure Turian bluntness and an audacity that should have been a punishable offense.
"If that wall were a Geth Prime, youād be a pile of scrap metal by now," he said, his dry laugh echoing against the walls. "By the Spirits, Garrus, you look more lost than a hanar who just discovered poetry."
"I was... analyzing data from Dock 42, Chellick," I lied, adjusting my visor with a rigidity that felt like a torture session. "Thereās an anomaly in the cargo manifests."
"Oh, thereās an anomaly, all right," Chellick circled my desk, placing a talon on my terminal with an irritating confidence. "But the anomaly isn't coming from the docks. Itās coming from that little human youāve got on a pedestal. I saw that look, Vakarian. You weren't periting data; you were periting her... geometry. A 'geometry' that, by the way, has a last name that used to be a guarantee of control."
I felt the bluish heat rising through my neck plates. Chellick was my best friend, but in moments like this, I wanted to send him on an indefinite patrol of the lowest warehouse levels.
"Mara is... a unique person, Chellick," I muttered, trying to sound dignified. "Her mind is brilliant. Sheās Johnās sister. And I am protecting her, since he..."
"Yeah, sure, 'protecting' her," Chellick let out another laugh, louder this time. "Garrus, you look like a varren that just found a gold bone every time she walks into the office. You straighten up, you fix your uniform, and your subharmonics drop so low I think youāre gonna make the coffee pot boil on its own."
Chellick pushed off the table and jerked his head toward the exit, his tone shifting to something slightly calmer, though no less mocking.
"Come on, get your backside out of that chair. You need a system reboot before Captain Pallin realizes his best investigator is in love with an invisible statue. My treat for tea at the Presidium kiosk. You need something hot and a distraction from that little human before you suffer an irreversible Fracture of Control right in the middle of the office."
I stood there, looking at him and then at the empty screen. He was right. I was losing my bearings.
"Sheās just a friend, Chellick," I said, standing up and trying to regain my composure.
"Sure, Garrus. Just a 'friend.' And Iām an asari dancer," he concluded, giving me a shove toward the hallway. "Move it, Presidium stallion. Letās see if the tannic acid brings you back to your senses."
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