#Al's gonna get his hand on some eezo and see if he can make lyrium lol

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 24 - 18 You always have a plan

Summary: Alistair's between a rock and a hard place. Lucky for his squad, he's got an ace up his sleeve - or power bubbling under his gauntlet. Now all he needs is a stick and a chance to try out a new theory given to him by an alien from a death planet.

---

Nothing like a firefight to make Alistair regret the fact he hadn’t taken more than just basic training in using the assault rifle. Also, he didn’t carry one at all.

“Damn it, they have us surrounded!”

Garrus’ swear carried over the gunfire as he ducked down behind a collapsed bit of wall. Bo was in a similar state on the other side of the corridor, crouched behind what had one time been a hallway corridor. Up above their heads, the turret fire kept spitting out death in rapid fire form, pinning them in place as the engineers on the other side discussed what to do next.

Honestly, he should’ve seen this one coming. When he had first looked over the map of the area before the mission started, he had seen this spot and worried it might turn into a choke point should they be caught off guard.

And look at it – they were stuck in a choke point, getting shot at by mercs and machines without much chance for getting out of it.

Alistair grimaced as he checked his shields from his omni-tool. Before diving behind the wall, he had been hit by a number of shots by both a hidden sniper and the beginning of the turret file. They had done the job to protect him, but now they were low and taking way too much time to recover, even with all his modifications in place. Even if they did, he would wind up in exactly the same place if he dared trying to move out of hiding while the turret was still going.

Worse, there was still the sniper hiding somewhere, firing off shots when they thought they had spotted them. The most recent had been a few feet in front of him – it had left quite a hole in the broken tile that had once been a hospital floor. He hated to think what that would have done to his armor, so he avoided looking at it too much as he tried to think of what to do next.

There weren’t a lot of options. They had no idea where the sniper was, so they couldn’t try to pick that one off to give them some breathing room. There were two turrets ahead of them, manned by engineers who could fix whatever they tried to damage. Add in the other mercs lying in wait with fresh shields and ammo, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

It wasn’t the worst spot he’d ever found himself in – Akuze took the gold there – but it wasn’t great.

“Al, give me something to work with!”

Bo’s voice sounded in his helmet, rather than through the air thanks to all the noise. He briefly glanced over towards her, watching as she tried to get a shot out only for it to result in a barrage of gun fire that caused her to take cover once more. Thanks to the mods in his helmet visor, he had a read on her shields as well. They too were low, and they weren’t modded like his so they took even longer to come back.

He really needed to get a hand on her armor if they got out of this alive.

“Try not to get shot, your shields are close to breaking!”

Bo didn’t question how he knew that – she was far too used to his tech modifications to ask. Or maybe she was just too focused on not dying to wonder how he had that point of data. He was glad for it either  way – he needed to think their way out of this.

That was a little hard, given a bit of wall above his head crumbled from the repeated gunfire, causing him to duck lower in order to avoid the barrage of bullets flying his way. Who knew thinking was hard under fire?

“Shepard, you’re not going to last much longer! Might as well die like a man before we hunt you down like a rat!”

That was the head merc, He was safe behind enemies lines, with shields in the purple and boosted armor to boot. Their mission was to take him in by any means possible, with heavy emphasis that killing him was fine. At least, Admiral Hackett had hinted as much when he had given them the mission.

Since it was Alistair leading the fight, the parameters were alive if possible. He liked to keep his targets alive, if only because transporting corpses gave him bad memories of Akuze.

Garrus’ mandibles were twitching as his talons gripped around his rifle. No doubt he wanted to shoot their main opponent and the sniper, but he wasn’t in a position to do either. It was a sentiment they all shared as they kept cover.

“Are you sure you want to keep this asshole alive?”

His voice was hard to hear over the gunfire, but Alistair managed to pick up the important bits. He nodded, which just made Bo groan into her mic and the turian to twitch. Neither were fans of his decision, but he was used to that. Nobody liked it when the trash talking merc got brought in alive – it made the shuttle ride back to the Normandy annoying.

With any luck, he’d be able to tape the man’s mouth shut. He still had a nose to breathe.

“We’re going to increase the turret fire, Shepard! Sooner or later your cover is going to shatter!”

Oh, great. Alistair grit his teeth as he glanced around, trying to find better cover. Bo’s was slightly better – there were more places to hide in the corridor and it wasn’t under direct turret file. The only problem was that they would have to cross into direct fire to get there. On low shields, it was outright suicide.

But it was what they were going to have to do if they wanted to live.

Briefly, he met eyes with Garrus and gestured towards the corridor with his head. He then held up his finger towards the turrets, closing his palm. They both knew what it meant – wait until they adjusted the turret speed. With any luck, there’d be a brief pause before things started firing.

The turian nodded and put his rifle on his back for the run. Alistair holstered his pistol and began powering up his strongest ability – barrier. Soon, both were glowing in the telltale blue that boosted their shields temporarily and would allow for a few more seconds of hits. His were stronger than most, but even those would break down with enough fire.

It was all he could offer.

Just like he expected, soon the turrets began to slow. The second they stopped, he and Garrus began to sprint towards the corridor. Almost immediately, the fire of the sniper rifle pinged against his barrier, but he kept running, eyes on safety. The engineers shouted and tried to go faster in their reloads and modifications to the turrets, but he tuned that out.

Just as the fire resumed, he slid to safety. However, he realized with a shock he was the only one. Panic beat through his body as he glanced over his shoulder. Garrus was collapsed close by, bleeding from the shoulder and shields rapidly depleting from the turret fire. His barrier was gone, and he was beyond a sitting duck.

The panic outpaced the beating of his heart. His mouth went dry as the gauge in his helmet edged close towards zero. Once that was gone, only the turian’s armor would protect him, and then he would be taking hits directly. One would be bad enough, but the turrets were on heavy fire mode. Add in the sniper and other mercs… it was bad.

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Briefly, he glanced down at his hand. Words echoed in his mind from a woman with a tattooed face hailing from a planet nobody was supposed to step foot on. If she was right, he had something within him that could save his squad mate and perhaps turn the tide of the battle.

So he unstrapped his gauntlet and let it fall.

“Al, what the fuck are you doing?” Bo’s voice was raised with tension as she watched him. “You’re going to get your hand shot off!”

Didn’t matter. He glanced around quickly, eyes landing on a broken piece of concrete that had rebar sticking out. This he broke off, being left with a short piece of metal rod. It wasn’t wood, but it would do.

Thanks to the contact with his bare skin, it heated up under his touch almost immediately.

“I’m about to do something completely stupid.” He grit his teeth as he focused as hard as he can. Just like his source said, he could feel energy bubbling beneath his skin, faster and harder than it worked with his biotics. “Take cover, I have no idea how this works!”

Then there was no more thinking. With his shields at an all time high and barriers blazing, he left cover and made his way over to Garrus. The bullets pinged and pulsed against his shield, but it didn’t matter. He faced down the turrets, rod in hand. Then he pointed it at the machines and let it rip with a prayer Cherche wasn’t out of her fucking mind.

Was it weird he was actually kind of mad about it when the massive fireball left his staff and fired directly at the turrets?

The shouts of the engineers were paid with the sizzling of melted metal and the cease of turret fire. He had managed to melt the equipment with his attack, giving them valuable time. His energy was still bubbling under his skin, so he grit his teeth.

He still had one in him.

There was no more thinking at that point as he aimed his would-be staff at the engineers and assembled mercs. Once again, the power bubbled and gathered towards his hand. With a near feral growl, he thrust the rod forward and watched as a second fireball launched, hitting dead on.

Who knew armor couldn’t withstand something not of their galaxy?

It was then he grabbed Garrus’ hand and helped him make his way to cover. Sweat was pouring down his brow as he dispensed medigel and applied it to the turian’s bloodied shoulder. Then he slumped against the wall, feeling as though he had just run a marathon. The rod fell from his hand and clattered to the broken tile floor, scorched and pitted from his two attempts at protecting his team.

“Al, what the hell was that?”

Garrus had enough in him to talk – that made one of them. Alistair turned to face him, struggling to find a way to talk as his CGM pinged a sudden low. All he wanted was his emergency supply of sugar, but he had to use his words instead.

“Just something a friend taught me.”

He jerked his head towards the mercs. They were quiet now, and the turrets no longer fired. If he counted right, they had the sniper and the head merc left. Even better, there was further cover ahead. If they were careful…

But then his vision blurred. And as his head dropped and things stopped making sense, he could only hope that he would wake up at all.

---

“What happened to him, Shepard?”

“Overdid it on the barriers. We were facing heavy fire.”

He recognized the voices. They belonged to Dr. Chakwas and Bo. The good doctor had been on the Normandy last he checked…

Alistair groaned as he came to, feeling a pillow beneath his head and one of the medbay beds beneath his ass. He was too weak to rise, but he managed to open his eyes. Just like he thought, he was back on the Normandy.

So they had survived after all.

Bo appeared at his side, out of armor with a bandage wrapped around her arm. She dropped into a chair by his side, and briefly he was amazed it didn’t snap in two. Her face was hard to read, but she reached out her hand and…

Punched him in the armored shoulder.

“Oww!”

“Walk it off, marine. I know you still have shields.”

He did, but it still hurt. Alistair would have rubbed his shoulder, but he was still wearing his armor. His gauntlet was still missing, but it was soon located on a bedside table. That was for the best – his hand was bandaged and stinging with the familiar sensation of a burn.

Hopefully the medigel would help with that – it was his dominant hand.

“You’re lucky that fucking worked, Al.” Bo shook his head. “You always have a plan, what were you thinking?”

He managed to shrug weakly. “I was thinking that I didn’t want Garrus to die. Guess that was enough to make it work.”

His body still tingled, just like Cherche had warned him it would. According to her, once his body fully grasped what it could do, that sensation would always be there. She wasn’t a firsthand expert, she had said as much, but it was something she had heard from someone in a… similar position.

It looked like her theory was true, though.

“We need to get you one of those fucking staff things if you’re going to try that again. Chakwas said you were lucky the burns weren’t worse.” Bo was calming down once getting the punch out. “And some of that blue shit in the bottle. Maybe you wouldn’t had passed out if we had it.”

It was going to be hard to get ‘some of that blue shit’ given how difficult it was to get any kind of eezo. Besides, he didn’t know how to prepare it to change it into the liquid form he would have needed to replenish his sources of energy.

Besides, the shit was bad enough to give people cancer. What would happen if he just drank it – turbo cancer? Extra sensitive biotics he wouldn’t be able to turn off? He didn’t want to consider the possibilities…

“Next time we’re nearby, we’ll see if we can pick one up. Maybe Cahel could ask his squad about it.” He sighed, feeling how heavy his eyes were. “Is Garrus ok?”

Bo snorted at that. “You’re a gay disaster, Al. Yes, he’s fine. Chakwas patched him up and sent him off to the battery to adjust the shields.”

She paused. “And before you ask, yes, we brought the douchebag in alive. Hackett sends his thanks. No doubt we’ll get some other stupid suicide mission in a month or two.”

Alistair could only imagine how that chat went – his sister wasn’t exactly known for her tact on the best of days. If had really passed out and required rescue, she would have been even worse. No doubt the expletives had flowed like water as she resisted the urge to pound her fist into the console.

Hopefully, she had resisted; he didn’t want to fix that, nor did he have the parts.

He would have said more, but Dr. Chakwas appeared at his side to check his vitals. She scanned him, then shook her head as she noted something on her datapad. Alistair could only imagine what readings she was getting.

After all, she wasn’t trained to deal with a mage dealing with exhaustion.

“Well, apart from your burns and hypoglycemia, you seem to be fine. I’m not sure what caused you to pass out, but there doesn’t seem to be long term effects.” She looked at him over his datapad. “You should be able to go as soon as you can sit up.”

Perfect – he put all his energy into rising to a sitting position. His head swum for a second, but then it returned to normal. He then swung his legs over to the side of the bed and managed to stand on his feet.

His knees didn’t buckle – perfect.

“Let lover boy go check on his boytoy.” Bo waved off the doctor’s concerns. “He’s going to be insufferable until he personally checks Mandibles’ implants.”

Alistair allowed a nod as he left the medbay behind, aiming for the battery. There were some of the crew at the table nearby, and they started whispering as soon as they saw him. He caught snatches of it as he passed, enough to get a general idea.

“Did you see the vid? Where did that fire come from?”

“Must be one of his mods. Techs are weird like that.”

Techs were indeed weird like that, and he accepted the cover story without a word. Besides, his goal was beyond them. Soon, he laid his hand over the pad that allowed him access to the battery doors and was passing through.

Unsurprisingly, Garrus was at the console for the Normandy’s main guns. His rifle was in pieces at the table by his cot, and he was running diagnostics with his omni-tool. At the sound of the opening door, he picked up his head and turned away from his work.

Then he found a turian wrapping his arms around him.

“Never do that again, Al.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I thought you were dead.”

Alistair melted into the hug, even though his armor got in the way. “I could say the same to you. What happened back there?”

Garrus’ voice vibrated through his body – it happened when he was upset. “The sniper got me and I lost my balance. I can’t say I’m not glad you provided a rescue, but…”

He trailed off. “What the hell was that? No way that was a mod, my armor’s shields went haywire.”

Cherche had warned about that – their tech wasn’t exactly magic friendly. No doubt his armor was also recovering from the onslaught. He would have to mod it too – maybe he could get something from their planet the next time they were close.

Not that he wanted a repeat, but he was all about planning for the worst case scenario.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Judging from Garrus’ blank look, that wasn’t going to be an adequate answer. Part of him wasn’t too surprised by his reaction. Had he been in the turian’s position, he would have felt the exact same way.

Alistair still felt a little annoyed, however. It was probably the low blood sugar talking.

“Try me.”

In the end, he sunk into the hug again, wishing he could feel the turian’s heartbeat. It did wonders to calm him down, and he needed to be calm for this conversation. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t going to get the comfort. But he was a marine – comfort came secondary.

“Remember when we picked up Cahel and his crew?”

Garrus snorted. “Right, the three aliens from Thedas. Did they give you something to launch fireballs?”

“Kind of; down on their planet, biotics have a few more tricks up their sleeves.” Or, if was to be believed, up the sleeves of their robes. Why they wore robes, he had no idea; it didn’t seem safe for battle. Maybe they had shields too? “I may have picked up a few things from them while they were here.”

The turian’s mandibles flapped. “So, the tattooed one’s theory was right?”

“Much as I hate to admit it, yes.” Alistair sighed. “I figured it was better than you dying, so I grabbed the closest thing to a staff and… gave it my best shot.”

Saying like that really highlighted just how crazy his plan had been. Normally, he wasn’t the type to just go balls to the wall and try something ridiculous. That was more of Bo’s style than his own – and it often raised his blood pressure when she did. Now he was the one causing heart rates to go up.

Weird how they switched positions.

Garrus sighed up above and gave him a squeeze. “Next time warn a turian before you start slinging energy like that.”

“I will, it really wore me out. Maybe I should just stick to one at a time so I stay on my feet.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

Then silence fell over the battery. Alistair was glad for it- his nerves were still frayed from the firefight. In a few hours, with paperwork to calm down, he would be back to as normal as he got. Until then, he was more than a little sensitive.

Lucky for him, he had a supportive boyfriend.

“I will admit, though…”

Garrus’ voice was softer now. “Seeing you standing like that was both terrifying and…”

Alistair found himself chuckling at the implication. “What, did you get horny at me casting fireball?”

The turian didn’t answer. That only turned his chuckles to a full blown laugh as he rested his forehead against his boyfriend’s armor. He had needed a laugh like this – it had been months since he had gotten one.

“It’s not that funny…”

He came up for air, wiping tears from his eyes. “I beg to differ, babe.”

The pet name made Garrus’ mandibles flap in the best way – it always did. “Ok, maybe it’s a little funny. But can you blame me? You looked so confident and sure of yourself. I don’t get to see that all that often because you like talking over shooting. Plus it was all for me.”

That it was. But it still made Alistair chuckle as he kept his forehead pressed to the turian’s armor. He couldn’t help it; after all, it was one of his favorite places as of late. It was even better when armor didn’t separate them, but a guy could take what he could get.

“Well, hopefully that lasts until we’re both off duty.” He finally released his position, wishing he could be back there almost immediately. “I have some work to do. You can come up later when you’re free.”

Garrus grinned in the turian way he loved so much. “It’s a deal. See you later, Al. Try not to find any more weird biotic abilities while I’m gone.”

That earned him another chuckle as Alistair left the battery. Soon he was back on the elevator that would lead up to his quarters. While he stood there, he felt the energy bubble under his skin. It was faint, but it was there.

“Maybe I should try to rig up my own staff if this is going to be a regular thing.” He paused. “I wonder if I can channel through something like my pistol. It might make things a little less obvious than carrying around a long stick.”

With that thought in mind, he stepped off the elevator in order to tackle the endless fight against paperwork. Later, if he got the chance, he would test it out with one of the many pistols they kept on the Normandy.

After all, he didn’t want to melt his favorite gun. It was specially modified to eject cartridges to the left. No way he was giving that up to see if he could cast fireball through it.