A/N: Title for fic subject to change. I've been on a Mass Effect kick for a solid month now, playing through all three games consecutively (obsessively) and now have a few plot bunnies to nurse. Hm, what else...I love reviews?
Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Mass Effect. Sad day.
Through and Through
The Normandy airlock slid open to reveal the desolate wasteland that was once the Citadel. What was once a beautiful metropolis now reeked of decaying flesh, which became increasingly pungent the lower the Normandy hovered to the ground. It retained none of the brilliance that once earned it its fame. Like a picture without color, it had deteriorated into a gray mass of desolation and hopelessness. Even the Normandy lost its luster in this bleak alternate reality.
A cloud of dust kicked up in protest to the Normandy's descent, shrouding the pair of searchers in a dense blanket. There was between them a tense silence: any of Liara's inquiries about his mental health Garrus would deflect with a brief statement of his worry but nothing more. He was fine, he reassured her. Yet the truth of the matter came down to he was worried; worried that they wouldn't be able to at least locate Shepard's body, worried as to what sort of condition it would be in if they did find it, – what if it was unrecognizable except for the signature dog tags? – worried that they would find her alive but in too much pain, too far gone for any doctor to heal her. So yeah, he was fraught with concern, dread even. But his overwhelming sense of loss that Liara and the others expressed so much concern over could come later. Right now they needed to focus on finding their Commander.
And they would find her.
His conviction renewed, Garrus leapt from the Normandy, plummeted into the shroud of dust that willingly consumed him, and landed with a soft thump on what remained of the Citadel's tiled pathway. Another thud and a small grunt told him Liara landed not too far from him, but she was as invisible to him now as he was to her. Her muffled voice penetrated the silence.
"We'll let you know if we locate her, Joker."
"You mean when we locate her," Garrus corrected.
He started ahead of Liara as he spoke, eager to overturn every city transport car, scour every vacant building regardless of the hazardous possibility of collapse, plunge through every cavernous crater until he found Shepard. No more "what ifs." They were here now, searching for her now, and he'd be damned if they didn't find her. He just needed to remember that as he placed one foot in front of the other. They did this for her, not him.
"When we locate her," Liara amended. "Keep us posted on the others' progress, Joker, and let us know if they find any clues."
"Sure thing, Liara. I'm also going to circle around the Citadel to get a better vantage point from the air. I'll update your navpoints as soon as I hear or see anything. Also, Cortez is prepping the 'new and improved Kodiak'," Joker paused so that the two could picture his air quotes before he finished his thought, "so he can circle around in the lower atmosphere. I swear the thing is going to implode from its own mass effect drive. What with it being a cheap knock-off the original bought from the black market."
Static echoed over the channel as Joker waited for some sort of rebuttal from Garrus, but the turian delivered only brooding silence. They all had their ways of coping with the sacrifices incurred upon each of them: for Joker humor was a default, however grim and truthful the situation was, but Garrus' private thoughts were the only coping mechanism he owned.
"I am sure Lieutenant Cortez will be fine. After all he spent the entire week-long ride modifying the Kodiak to ensure safe flight. He was preparing for this mission," Liara said to break the dreadful quiet.
"Yeah," Joker replied in a rare tone of solemnity. Another pause before he muttered, "Bring her home."
"We will, Joker."
Just like that the air swallowed Liara's and Joker's voices, returning everything once more to the vacuum of silence. Garrus cleared the settling dust just in time to watch the Normandy vanish off into the distance, leaving a blue streak searing the air in its wake. Then he and Liara were alone amidst this miserable monument to the lives lost, one of three teams dropped off to locate Commander Shepard's remains. A tech and a biotic. He could feel Liara's gaze on him as his mandibles naturally flexed from the culmination of worry, stress, uncertainty, and other emotions he bottled up and used as his reserve of adrenaline. Thankfully, she didn't inquire.
They covered considerable ground, arched outward in opposite directions to gain more distance. It was the time he spent alone that Garrus felt his disconsolate thoughts pluck his inner heart-strings. He didn't have to hold his head high for the others when he was alone; he didn't have to hide the wear and tear that searching for his mate induced; he didn't have to remain strong for anyone but Shepard. At one point he smashed a fist into an already crumbling terminal, as though it was the poor computer's fault for their inability to locate one single human. Right now they were wandering around blind, and he recalled just how loathe he was to being blind.
Yet that wouldn't stop him. If it was Shepard, she would scour every nook and cranny, lift every rock, search every shadow for any crew member left behind.
Liara startled him with a hand on his shoulder, which jarred Garrus back to reality. He hadn't heard the sound of her footsteps, hadn't realized just how tight his fist curled at his side until just then, how his seething breaths released the pent-up fury he directed in toward himself for abandoning Shepard when she needed him most. He was her XO, her second in command, her best friend, and her lover. When she could have used him at her six, he retreated instead to the Normandy on her orders. Damn that woman and her self-sacrificial nature.
"If you wish to talk about it…" Liara said, trailing off at the end to leave the conversation open for Garrus to take charge.
He only shook his head. "I'm fine, Liara, really. I have a few choice words for our dear Commander when we find her, but I'm not going to do anything brash before then. All that matters right now is the mission."
"If you're certain... Just know that you're not alone in your suffering."
"I know, Liara."
He couldn't recall how much time passed, though he remembered watching the shifts in the shadows undergo a full rotation from when the mission began. Updates from the others clicked in over the omni-tools periodically, but otherwise the search continued with brief conversation. Joker had nothing to report, Lieutenant Cortez had no new information, Liara continued to penetrate Garrus with her all-knowing stare, and Garrus retracted further into himself. They each felt the strain: the limited provisions they carried on them were nearly depleted, sleep deprivation made them privy to petty arguments, and the whisper of hopelessness that whistled in their ears lowered morale.
Then Liara's omni-tool sputtered to life and Joker's voice sounded through in a tone Garrus couldn't quite identify. Was it…excitement?
"Liara, I'm picking up life readings about five klicks east of your position. They're faint, and at first I thought maybe the vital readings were glitching, since there were times it dropped your readings off the grid, but these seem to be pretty consistent."
"By the goddess…Joker, are you sure?" Liara asked, looking to Garrus, hopeful. Garrus didn't return the hope.
"Yeah. If you want, I can fly overhead and see what it is. I'm on the opposite end of the Citadel though, so it'll take me a few minutes to backtrack. Or I could patch Cortez to your location and have him take a look, but at this rate you'd probably just get there at the same time."
"No, keep your course. We wouldn't want to waste your time flying over here if it happens to be nothing. Garrus and I can check it out." She looked to him for confirmation, which he provided in a curt nod. They could cover the distance easily, faster if they ran.
"Alright, suit yourself. I'll update your navpoints with the reading's source. Good luck out there."
Five klicks to the east. Garrus recalled that the human military used that as their form of measurement for distance, which was one term that sort of integrated itself into the standard vocabulary of all the interspecies military. Although he still didn't know just what exactly a "klick" was. He just knew the distance wasn't too vast from the dot that pulsed where Joker indicated the life signs originated.
"Let's go," Garrus said, aware that his dual-toned voice betrayed the slightest smidge of hope, which Liara undoubtedly caught and smiled at.
He led them along the most direct path to the signal, relying on Liara's biotics to move any towering debris that blocked their path. What started out as a brisk walk soon developed into a frenzied dash. If Shepard was alive…. Garrus' mandibles flared, caught the air in a tunnel that would feed oxygen to his starving lungs. His muscled legs propelled him forward. Inhale. Exhale. This was it. If they didn't find Shepard now, they would need to suspend the search until they gathered more provisions, which would take who knew how long, since the Normandy was still an Alliance vessel. Likely eons, maybe longer.
No, this signal needed to be Shepard; he willed it to be Shepard. Call him pathetic, but other than Tali, Liara, and hell maybe even Wrex, none of the others knew him like Shepard did. None of them suffered through his past as she suffered it with him. Despite all of her own personal dilemmas; despite the hopes, dreams, and wishes the galaxy piled onto her shoulders; despite the waking nightmares and constant hauntings of all the dead she failed to save, she made time for him. For all of them. She took the time to listen to everything they had to say, sort through their problems for them, hold his quivering hand at the lack of news from his family, spend the countless hours she should have used to sleep instead to listen to him rant and rave about his incompetency as a Reaper advisor; in hindsight it all seemed so inconsequential. He pitied himself far less for it than he regretted not listening more to her problems, to aid in shouldering some of her weight. The little he had carried had been such a heavy burden, but that magnified easily by a hundred fold – if not higher – was what she bore.
Garrus had slipped so far into his thoughts he almost missed the sudden drop off and sloped angle of the rubble farther down. The vast crater spanned for leagues along the collapsed roadway. Everything in the surrounding area had been demolished, like it was the epicenter of some massive explosion, and Garrus felt the faintest chill slither up his spine. Even a varren would skitter clear of this crater, of that Garrus felt certain. Good thing for him then that he wasn't a varren. Pulling up his display on his omni-tool, he squinted carefully at the map, then at the crater, back to the map, and once more return to the crater. There was no doubt about it:
The signal originated from here.
Garrus swept his gaze over the endless horizon of rubble and debris, scanning for anything that would catch his eye: the metallic glint of Shepard's dog tags, the red stripe running down her N7 armor, the smooth and pale skin of human flesh, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Nothing caught his eye. Liara jogged up to him just as a low hiss rumbled deep in his chest.
They were here – here – at the source of the signal, so why the hell couldn't he find her?
Garrus closed his eyes and focused on the whistle of air as he took in a deep breath, his talons scratching at his forehead. Shepard used to comment on how brash he was, how quickly he jumped to his emotional backdrop and brood in times of increased stress. He was a hot-headed turian when he needed to remain cool and collected. Similar to now. He never understood how she did it, how methodical she could remain about everything, how emotionally detached and yet sympathetic she could behave toward any given person, human or alien. He rebuked himself for his quick-to-spark irritation just as Shepard would have. Then he reopened his eyes for round two.
There.
It lasted a millisecond, just a slight glint in the distance amidst a throne of rubble, but it was all Garrus really needed. Still, just to be sure, he unhooked the Black Widow X – a gift from Shepard he recalled with a dull ache beneath all that armored plating – from its holster on his back and peered through the scope, zooming in on the glint he saw previously. He could read the insignia on the dog tags as clearly as if they were dangling directly in front of his face: N7. The air exploded from his lungs, much like he imagined it would if a Krogan ever rammed him in the chest. When had he started holding his breath in anticipation?
Garrus lowered the scope. Debris blocked Shepard's face from view, but he recognized that signature chest plate anywhere. They found her…Spirits, they found her. He felt…well, not how he thought he would. The relief he anticipated feeling with the discovery of her body held together worse than wet paper, and a thresher maw of emotions slammed into him simultaneously. She was so close, just within reach but still leagues away. He felt the uncertainty return with a vengeance, followed closely by its comrades desperation and anger. They needed to reach her; he needed to see for himself just how badly marred she'd become; he needed some sort of confirmation that this wasn't his fault, that his desertion hadn't resulted in her death.
Damn it, Shepard. You're turning me into a wreck.
"We need to get down there," he stated out loud, more as a tactical necessity than an indirect request to Liara as he snapped the sniper rifle onto his back.
She picked up on the subtle request anyway. "I could use biotics to lessen our impact if you feel we would cover more distance cutting across the crater rather than circling around for a gentler path."
"I don't think there is a gentler path," Garrus noted.
As he watched Liara scan the circumference of the crater with her intense stare, he couldn't help the surge of gratitude he felt for her presence. None of the others would have remained silent as she had throughout this hell of a mission, not in the same respect at least. He suspected the others had a hand in this pairing, too, each of them looking out for his well-being through Liara. If not for that, she may have wished to travel with Javik, interrogate him on his past and Prothean culture some more, but she chose to accompany him instead. They'd not only been blind in their search for Shepard, but he'd also been blind to the Normandy crew's support. He made a mental note to thank Liara later when all of this was said and done.
"No, I suppose there isn't," Liara conceded. "We'll have to proceed down the cliff-side."
"Just try not to miscalculate the distance between me and the ground. I'd hate to wind up as a blue smear on the Citadel's floor."
"If you distrust my ability to lower you safely to the ground then…." In a spark of sudden revelation, Liara turned to Garrus and crossed her arms. "Oh, I see now. You were emerging from your brooding shell and making a joke at my expense."
"Anything for you, Liara."
Liara shook her head, and before Garrus could throw another wisecrack he saw her vanish over the cliff's edge. Alone again, Garrus retracted once more into his darker mood, his thoughts trailing back to Shepard with renewed unease. They may have found her, but there were still too many unanswered questions, too many loose ends. Just what exactly would they find when they approached her? He'd been so eager to find her earlier he hadn't even stopped to consider what he would do once he had. It disconcerted him. Yet before he had a chance to tackle that particular void, Liara craned her neck up toward him and signaled for him to jump.
Her body was in close visual range now, unmoving…silent. A red haze pulsed behind Garrus' eyes the closer he drew to her, once again from the breath hitched inside his chest. Liara hovered far behind him radioing Joker, but what exactly she said didn't penetrate the pulsing of Garrus' heart in his ears. He first came upon her greaves; half buried in rubble one leg was certainly fractured, if not broken. The armor misshapen in several areas, surely it would induce pain if its wearer could feel it.
It was…gruesome. The wounds from where the armor had peeled away completely were crusted over with blood, cauterized wounds that would have been the cause of her death had they continued to bleed. Her arms, the armor stripped completely from them, were covered in gashes, bruises, and blood from the other wounds on her body she had tried to cover. One arm bent at an awkward angle, wedged between a rock and the ground. He trailed his eyes upward, though a part of him screamed to cover his gaze with his talons so he didn't have to see the condition of her once smooth face.
No, he had to confirm. He had to…
Her eyes were closed, like she was asleep, strands of disheveled hair covering her face in a shroud. Garrus knelt down before her, choking on words he prepared himself to say, the chastising he wanted to give her for tugging around his heart endlessly. He reached forward with a single talon and traced the line of one of her most recent gashes. His head dropped.
Now more than ever he understood why humans had developed tear ducts, and never before did he envy them so much for it.
"Damn it, Shepard."
From nearby he heard Joker begin asking the question to which everyone already knew the answer: "Is she…?"
Garrus' head jerked up, for he perceived a faint sound so soft he thought it was his imagination. But there it was again, a high-pitched whistle that blew past Shepard's parted lips. He leaned his head in close, his hands shaking with skepticism and disbelief. A few knuckles found their way to the side of her cheek, where he felt warmth in place of what he could have sworn was only cold. Another sputtering breath, but she was having difficulty….
Garrus looked down to her chest where part of the Rosenkov armor had collapsed into itself, and he wondered if that was what was impeding her ability to inhale. According to what little he knew of human physiology, it was. Knowing that Shepard always wore a protective layer of neoprene beneath her armor, he began tearing away at the chest plate. Frantic, he looked to Liara while the armor peeled away like Klixen shells under his sharp claws.
"She's alive. Liara, Shepard's alive," Garrus said in a choking voice thick with relief.
"Goddess…" Liara gasped, her arm falling to her side in a brief lapse of control. Knowing they needed to move quickly, she re-established the comm link with Joker and said, "Joker, we need an emergency evac. Shepard's alive. Weak, but alive. I'm patching you our exact coordinates now."
Just beyond the comm link, Garrus heard Joker utter, "Christ. On our way now."
"C'mon, Shepard, you've held out this long. Keep fighting until we get you help," Garrus pleaded.
With the Resenkov chest plate removed, Shepard gasped in air until her lungs filled with precious oxygen, much to Garrus' relief. It still whistled, she still wheezed, but at least she could breathe now.
"Liara, help me get this debris off of her!" Garrus called to his asari friend.
He turned back to Shepard for just a brief moment to rest his forehead against hers, whereupon his hand instinctively closed around hers in a gentle display of affection. He had thought… He'd been dreading… Spirits, she had to be the luckiest person in the history of humanity, no question about it. She subverted his expectations once again, done the impossible by activating Project Crucible, destroyed the Reapers, and still managed to survive. Damn the Void; it wouldn't snatch her away from him this day. He would make sure of it.
Only when his shuddered breaths calmed did Garrus remove his forehead from hers and stand to help Liara with the remaining debris.