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Black and White	By : CyberII Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 8146 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Do not own Mass Effect or characters, writing for fun, but not profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Pt.1
- 2-Pt.2
- 3-Pt.3
- 4-Pt.4
- 5-Pt.5
- 6-Pt.6
- 7-Pt.7
- 8-Pt.8
- 9-Pt.9
- 10-Pt.10
- 11-Pt.11
- 12-Pt.12
- 13-Pt.13
- 3
- 4
- 5
He woke up as groggy as never before in his whole life, even after a hell of a drunken night in Chora's Den. Tried to get up, but a head rush and sharp pain in almost every part of his body kept him down. Slowly the blurriness of his vision faded away…

He'd never been in this place.

But as much as his paranoia screamed he needs to get out of there quickly, his body wasn't really able to do it.

Step by step he called the pieces of the day before to memory…

Oh.

That was embarrassing.

It even hurt to move his eyeballs in sockets, but he looked about the room he was in. Small, cheap but tidy. Nice view. He almost got the idea which part of Omega it was.

Right. The Justicar.

She was sitting on a counter, her legs crossed in front of her, arms folded on her knees. She was watching him intently; for how long – he could only guess. She was making an impression she could keep that silent unblinking stare for years.

But at least she was a rather friendly face, he hoped. He remembered how he just stumbled in her quarters uninvited…

He tried to clear his throat, but it seemed as dry as Palaven wastelands.

The Justicar gracefully jumped off the counter and poured a cup of water. He didn't know what to think when she kneeled beside the bed he was lying on and put a cup to his mouth. None of his arms seemed to work properly yet, so he turned his head slightly, lapping up the cool liquid.

That became more embarrassing every moment.

He stopped and finally forced a few words out in unusually muddy voice.

"Thanks… But you shouldn't…"

"Shh," she hushed him, "You need a lot of rest to recover."

"It's not… Listen, I usually do not break into the apartments of someone I barely know and talk lots of nonsense because of being high on Red Sand…"

Samara – that was her name, he remembered, smiled with a surprising glint in her cold eyes.

"I don't mind it actually. I'm almost thousand years old, and you succeeded in making an impressive entrance – even for me."

He frowned, more of pain than of shame; his whole right side of face felt rigid and unmovable.

"Just… not my style."

The asari eyes travelled along his faceplates, her expression frozen again.

"You made a good choice when needed. You were right to come here. I need your help, I will help you."

Her voice sounded so monotonous, lulling – he felt like he's too anemic and exhausted.

"Fine," he murmured, closing his heavy eyelids and sinking into a deep sleep…

When he woke up again, she was sitting on the floor near the window. He just saw her back and faint biotic glowing coming from somewhere in front of her.

He propped himself up on the elbow, hissed from the pain but managed to sit on the bed.

The asari probably heard him; blue flame enveloped her form and faded, she rose from lotus pose to her feet and turned to him.

"Hello," she smiled, "You look better today."

He rubbed his aching browplate, feeling his teeth with his tongue – much to his surprise he still had a full set.

"For how long I've been…"

"About a day cycle, it seems to me… I'm quite unmindful of time when meditating."

"I'm really sorry," he rubbed his neck, "I hadn't planned to end up as a drag on you…"

He revised his assortment of bandages, noting that aside from them he's got absolutely no clothes left.

He looked around, saw his armor in the corner, but no signs of undersuit.

"Hey, about my clothes…"

"Me and Dr. Solus, we had to cut it off from you," she shrugged, "There's no big deal, I know the turians aren't shy around their own kind, just act natural."

Just perfect, he ended up in her apartment half-dead and now bare-assed. Well, not that he had something to be shy about, not really, but…

"Death of embarrassment had been just added to my death causes' list. That's wrong on so many levels; I can't decide which part of my unexpected visit is worse… Stumble in drugged or walking around the lady's apartment naked…"

He was unprepared to hear her laughing softly.

"Just as I've said, I'm nearly thousand years old. Such young and handsome man, naked, in my apartment, could only compliment me. I sincerely doubt I'll see something never seen before."

He sighed, not having enough strength to argue, and stood up. The room spun before his eyes, he had to lean on the wall for support.

"Good wall," he murmured, heading towards the bathroom.

Washing off his dried blood took longer while trying not to faint. He seemed to lose pretty much of blood; Mordin got him patched up just in time.

Speaking of Mordin.

"Solus probably left some spare meds, am I right?" he asked.

There was a clicking of heels behind him, and monotonous voice spoke.

"Yes. He told you know what to do with it."

She handled him the medical supplies, a brief glance ensured him the far-sighted doctor was right. He hastily swallowed painkiller and anti-inflammatory pills and continued with bandages.

Samara just stood there, staring silently. He felt the familiar discomfort under that stare.

"So… did Solus tell something else? Aside from me being stupid and suicidal?"

"Yes," she nodded, "He told me he'll come to check on you in a day or two and bring more supplies. Besides, I am interested – is he… familiar with your identity? You talked like there's little secrecy between you, I figured out you should've really trusted him."

"Infrequent on Omega, huh?" he grinned, "He's STG, well, former, but it doesn't change a thing. Hiding something from an STG guy is… like trying to run away from a sniper," he looked back into the room to locate his rifle standing against the wall, "Highly ineffective. I prefer to talk to him as if he knows everything, just to save my breath."

"He patched up some of my men," he continued, "And he's got an interesting reputation. We… do almost the same job here on Omega. It seems to me, his STG past haunts him. Something about questionable ethics of some projects."

"Yes, he told me he was interested in the ethics of our Code," she nodded calmly, "It was my pleasure to discover such well-informed person in such place."

"See? I told you, he's the 'know-it-all' kind," he scraped the dried blood from under his talons with a disgusted look. "Also he's the one to patch you up or shoot you down with similar ease. Great guy, huh?"

"Indeed," she smiled coldly.

They returned in the main room, he inspected his armor. Fine, at least he has something to do until he's able to return to base. Cleaning and repairing will help him killing the recovery time.

"I apologize, I've spent last four centuries alone, my social skills are rusty," Samara looked through him unblinking, "I should've asked if you're hungry…"

"No, it's all right with me. I… don't think my appetite has recovered yet," he lied ignoring his stomach, "Unlikely, you've got dextro food here…"

"Actually, I've had plenty of time while you slept. I… suggested you might be hungry when finally awaken…"

He felt like losing the battle between modesty and basic needs.

"Oh, you shouldn't…"

That tasted like the best meal he'd ever had on Omega. He ran out of apologies, all shattered against the Justicar's indifferent politeness, and just enjoyed himself. Aside from being all bandaged up and a little dizzy.

Omega certainly could teach a man to find pleasure in small things. A good meal, a painkiller pill and a warm apartment, and he's happy he's gotten into this mess.

Besides, he just noticed the room temperature was pretty comfortable for him. So comfortable he forgot to be surprised by it. Most races used cooler climate presets.

"You seem to know a lot about turians," he tilted his head, a piece of meat halfway to his mouth, "You know, not the most common kind of things known by everyone."

She was sitting on the counter in front of him, knees drawn up to her chest, gorgeous features unreadable.

"I've had a friend," her silvery eyes threw an unfocused glance outside of the window, "A turian… You remind me of him."

He heard the silent sorrow in her voice and asked.

"Something bad happened to him?"

The asari eyes focused on him, her smile was glacial.

"No. But it was centuries ago, and I still live. He doesn't."

"I'm sorry for bringing it up," he lowered his eyes to his plate.

"No, I'm fine. Yet the downsides of long lifespan are… obvious. The losses… accumulate."

"Uh-huh," he nodded, "Changing the topic?"

"As you like," her voice sounded frigidly, "You may ask me anything."

"Tell me about the Justicars," he asked, "I'd… like to understand."

She glanced at the floor but spoke calmly before he voiced his suggestion to drop this subject as well.

"The asari Justicars are servants of the Justicar Code. It consists of five thousand Sutras, and I've memorized every word. The purpose of our Code is to give us a clear vision of any situation we may encounter, to protect the innocent and punish the wicked."

"Sounds… interesting," he set the leftovers aside, head resting on his hand, "And dangerous. With some romantic air, I suggest."

"It… is," she continued, eyes still on the floor, "Young asari grow up on romantic stories about the Justicars. Mostly fictional. In reality it is a path of great sacrifices and life of constant danger. When a Justicar becomes involved, peaceful solutions are long past. Many people are uncomfortable about us, but there's just few of us so they hardly get a chance to meet one in their lifetime."

"I should be honored then," he bowed his head slightly. She raised her eyes with a first smile during this conversation.

"I do not seek for praise and honor, but it's nice to be around someone well-mannered," she nodded, "I may seem a heroic figure, but I will kill in cold blood when necessary."

He frowned.

"Won't we have a problem there? Your Code demanding you to kill me, or something?"

"How do you tell an innocent from a guilty person in your scope?" her voice was calm and freezing, but his answer came out unwavering.

"An innocent person never gets in my scope."

She jumped from the counter, reached across the small table; he felt cool fingers brushing his cheekplate softly. He raised his eyes – she was smiling genuinely, even those disturbing eyes had a spark of that smile now.

"That's why I'm glad I asked you to help me. Never forget what you answered me, never betray it, Garrus."

For the first time he heard her calling him by his name. Smiling at him, touching his cheek. It was worth of trying to wrestle a krogan and ending half-dead. Maybe he'd kill an Ardat-Yakshi with his bare hands to hear it again.
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