Prelude
I want to say that I'll try not to make a habit of author's notes. But I feel like I must say something - consider this the 'blurb'.
I apologise in advance for putting out yet another fic in the already saturated Garrus/Shepard category, though I promise it has more purpose than just to detail their omg amazing love. During the course of ME1 and ME2, this Shepard made choices based around a certain set of principles, and I have found that some of her consequent choices surprised me. Some of them I don't think were fully realised by the options given to us by Bioware, so this, in part, is my attempt to rationalise and humanise the immense figure that is Shepard.
Also, I felt the Garrus romance, whilst entirely wonderful in its existence, somewhat lacking in the emotional department. So whilst I may stray from the absolute canon in some aspects (for the purpose of this story, I am largely following the two games' plot, but will strive to make it my own) I am going to follow the few choice dialogues/interactions which happen between Garrus and Shepard in terms of the 'seduction', and, again, try to rationalise them. After playing through ME2 for the first time with a male Shepard, and only then learning that Garrus was romanceable, I went back to ME1 specifically to make a Shepard to admire and eventually love him. The romance, whilst eventually sweet, wasn't quite what I wanted. Still, this feels appropriate for Garrus, who probably didn't look at Shepard romantically/sexually until she threw herself at him. Thus, this fic will be from the POV of my Shepard, Ivy, partly because I always imagined the attachment to stem from her, and partly because the idea of trying to capture the inner thoughts of canon characters I love so much frightens me to death. First-time fic-writer, here!
Rated M for strong language (biotic headaches give you a temper), potential strong violence, and potential sexual themes. Definite spoilers for the games. All rights and love to Bioware. Thank you for reading.
04 07 10: Edit: a rightfully harsh review has caused me to edit this slightly. I may heavily edit Chapter 2 in the near future, for it doesn't really advance anything except give more of an insight into this Shepard's head. Please bear with the fact that this first chapter is, essentially, a detailed re-cap of the end of Horizon; I promise to make this story my own, not to just show you things you already know.
1. When I Looked at You Differently: Horizon
There was nothing in this universe she hated more than husks.
She could never pinpoint her hatred; was it the noises they made, or the way that, despite those noises, there always seemed to be at least one which snuck around behind you, grabbed a hold of your neck, and tried to gnaw its way through your armour? If it wasn't you, it was someone else, and it wasn't as easy to throw wanton Shockwaves all over the place when one of the fucking things had a hold of your squadmate. Sometimes she didn't think that they served any use at all. Some hastily applied medigel brought them back to fighting speed only to be knocked down again - why the hell was she always the last left standing?
The answer was easy. She was Shepard, saviour of the Citadel, the intergalactic idol who rose from the shit of society and ended up saving everybody asses. Again. And again. And again.
She was never sure how she'd ended up with that impossible title, and was certain that she didn't deserve it, but that didn't stop others believing it. Saviour?
"Fucking move!" she yelled, relieved when her squadmates complied, mass effect fields springing up around her as she activated a barrier of her own. The Praetorian loomed, eyes only for her, and the added defence kicked in just before its particle beam could take her head off. Snarling, she levelled her own particle beam, stolen from a Collector only five minutes ago, and gave it a taste. The horrible, massive mess of floating husks gave an angry shriek, and then began the telltale song of the death choir. Why did it have to be husks? She couldn't decide if she hated this variety over your standard one, and man, don't get started on the ones which fucking explode. At least the ground was clear; there were no more Collectors, just this monstrosity standing between them and destruction of the Collector ship which hovered over Horizon. EDI was so close, but something told Shepard that this wasn't going to be a game of patience. The Praetorian had to go down. The ugly mass of husks had to go down.
It was so close; as it regenerated barriers for the fifth time, Shepard knew it was close, and her tactical instincts were fighting with her impatience to just be away from this nightmare. She glanced at Jacob and Garrus, who were both intent on their flagging foe, both stood in the protection of a truck practically on the other side of the starport. They had both been taking full advantage of the fact that the Praetorian only seemed to see Shepard, a fact which was easily exploited but hell on earth for the woman herself. She could see Jacob breathing heavily, his endurance sorely tested, and knew that Garrus must be worn out, too. His hard turian exterior would never let you believe so, but you didn't fight alongside someone for this long not to recognise the signs.
He glanced back, a chance of fate, and saw her staring. Those bright blue eyes blinked, then he shifted his rifle and gave her a broad turian grin, mandibles flaring. She returned the gesture with enthusiasm, more concerned for the stamina of her team than herself. She would hold out. She always did.
The tension in her chest released itself as a battle cry, stress overcome by adrenaline, and she shoved off from her cover, automatically drawing the attention of the Praetorian. The particle beam was swapped for her submachine gun - all the better to eat your barriers with, bitch - and she indiscriminately fired, doing damage and maintaining its focus all at once. Like it was interested in the other two, she scoffed. A highly destructive biotic field formed in her hand, her waning barrier flickering, and she sent the warp flying towards the enemy as she ran, unable to afford stopping and aiming. She found that her biotics seemed to naturally find their target, which was a blessing, because the particle beam hissed right at her feet as she dove into fresh cover, glancing up long enough to see that the Praetorian's barrier was visibly weakening. Defence or offence? she wondered momentarily, only having the energy to summon another warp or barrier in the next few seconds. A lot could happen in a few seconds. Her nervous system screamed as the biotics kicked in yet again so soon, but it was only when the Praetorian suddenly appeared directly overhead that her decision was made - swearing profusely, her renewed barrier was, again, the only thing to save her skin. Its particle beam cut effectively at the mass effect field, but she was already gone, running just that little bit faster than the beam could be aimed. She heard the firing of weapons far behind her, desperately trying to destroy it before it destroyed her. Again she ducked behind some containers, wanting to see if she could use its own teeth against it once more. Again she hesitated, unable to decide whether to renew her barrier or shoot a vicious ball of biotic hate at the bastard creature. Was it even technically alive?
Well, whatever the answer was to that question right now, she knew that it wouldn't be any definition of alive by the time she was finished with it. Blood pounded in her ears as she forwent safety for revenge, her body aching with the constant biotics. Still, the slightly muted, distorted sound as warp made contact brought a smile to her face, and she holstered her submachine gun in favour of the particle beam, determined for this to be the end of it all.
She emerged from behind the containers, a face full of fury and bloody murder, until she was soundly checked. It wasn't there.
How the hell do you lose something that -
"Commander!" came the cry, and she realised she'd almost been outsmarted by a fusion of husks. Almost - their determination to destroy Shepard above all else was their timely destruction, no doubt in small part due to the obsessive insistence of their general. Focus on Shepard. Neutralise Commander Shepard. Shepard, submit now. She wanted to punch him in the face, whatever and wherever he was.
Instincts flashed, and her warp connected with the hideous thing's massive face at the same time as the distinctive crack of a sniper rifle sounded out, causing the Praetorian to flinch back twice. The sniper fired again in record speed, hastened, no doubt, by the threat which hung over their commander. That was all it took. The sharp forelimb of the Praetorian had been ready to strike, but her armour had barely to brace the initial impact before the entire creature seemed to dissolve before her very eyes. She could only stare dumbly. It wasn't the first time her foes had done that today - the possessed Collectors seemed to simply give up physical existence upon failure - but it was still surreal. The last time she had witnessed a corpse fade away like that, she had almost been killed in the council chambers. It didn't encourage fond memories.
"Commander," came the cry again, only this time it was gentler and less urgent. The danger had passed. Stiffly, she turned to see them jog towards her, weapons lowered but fingers still on triggers. They had all suspected that the Praetorian was the Collector's last grand offensive, but you should never assume. Jacob looked flustered, and she wondered when he had last fought something so large. Garrus, of course, wasn't phased at all, but merely looked concerned. As they got closer, she realised he also looked smug; it had been his fast handiwork which had saved her, and now he had more right than ever to boast his skills as a sniper.
"Before you start," Shepard snapped, recovering from her most shameful moment of numbness, jabbing a finger in the turian's face, "that was hardly a challenging target. You could practically shoot from the hip and still hit it."
"Commander," he said for a third time, this time with mock hurt, "do you have any idea how disorientating it is to look through the lens at a target that big? I could practically see up its nostrils."
"That thing had nostrils?" Jacob snorted. "I was too busy focusing on, y'know, the more dangerous bits."
"It was made of husks," Shepard muttered, glancing back at where it had been just a minute prior. Memory of the thing flared up - so close, she could still see that collection of almost-disembodied heads clustered around its middle, all those eyes staring at her alongside the more Collector-like ones on its head. The notion made her shudder, and she immediately despised the illusion of weakness. She was not weak.
"Ah, that would explain the-" Garrus started, but knowing exactly where this was going, Shepard shot him a venom look. Obediently, he shut up, but his mandibles quivered with what Shepard knew to be amusement. They all knew what she was like with husks. Creepers, husks, now big fucking nightmare mixtures of them - they all made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Outsmarted by a bunch of husks!
"I like how your immediate reaction wasn't to protect yourself," the turian said, changing the subject slightly. "Next time, it might be wise to consider your barrier first. You couldn't know it would go down so fast."
"Yeah, well, next time I'll get just you to shoot it in the nose 'til it dies," she said, and then gestured at the console tower in the centre of the starport. "EDI will be finished by now. Let's blow that thing out of the sky. Go give the word, Jacob, I'll be there in a moment."
The operative nodded and jogged up to the tower. Shepard had planned to give the order herself, but something about the Praetorian had rendered her still quite unable to move. Was it the 'husk' thing? Was it the realisation that this whole mission had just gotten a lot more complicated? Was it the sinking realisation that Cerberus really was right about the whole thing? The skies filled with projectiles as the GARDIAN towers finally came alive and did their job, forcing a retreat from the Collector vessel. Memories seemed to crop up easily today, and she was filled with the vision of Sovereign rising up, out of the dust and clouds of a ruined Eden Prime. She knew this mission hadn't been a full success, just like it hadn't that time. People had been taken; lives had been lost. She had failed to save everyone.
Someone ran forwards - her gun flexed - but a two-fingered hand pushed it down again, calming her. It was just a colonist. Shepard had no time for his distress; she had done all she could. What more did the coward want? Carefully removing her helmet, she returned her now un-disturbed gaze to the sky, watching as the massive vessel fell out of sight. She felt oddly calm; all her foes were on that ship. They would have left nobody who hadn't already been thrown against her; she was safe, for now. It was a bittersweet safety. "Shepard?" The voice was incredulous, and matched perfectly with her current memory. Ashley Williams, the last one left fighting the geth. She had been so relieved of the company, Shepard recalled, when she and Alenko had found her. "Garrus?"
They both turned to look at her. She seemed in awe; it wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that Shepard had seen that look. It wasn't altogether often that people came back from the dead. Shepard wanted to be happy to see her, but something held her back. Ashley and her had many memories, a soldier and a biotic fighting back to back. They had had the same enemies, once. Shepard was all too aware of that.
Ashley's ignorance allowed them a warm reuniting, the soldier's reverence far too soppy for Shepard's tastes - but then she had always mixed in the soft with the hard, quoting poetry as frequently as colourful soldier language. Had her attitude towards aliens changed, Shepard wondered? The way she glanced at Garrus, who, in his own way, did look pleasantly surprised to see an old team-mate, suggested not. Then those eyes turned back to Shepard, and the very name she had been fearing was thrown at her.
She could hardly deny working with Cerberus. There was an important distinction to be made - with, as opposed to for - but explaining that to Ashley was futile. Even as she found herself reaching out, wanting the soldier to understand, wishing that the line between friend and foe was as simple as it had been back on Eden Prime, she saw Ashley pulling back, retreating; she had vehemently, loyally denied the accusations, but she was hearing them all confirmed. Commander Shepard, who had once roamed the galaxy hell-bent on destroying the evil of Cerberus, was now their puppet? The bad taste had never left Shepard's mouth ever since Jacob's conscience had prompted him to admit it to her, but it made Ashley look as if she were about to be sick. Oh, how she could sympathise! But nothing was so simple anymore; past foes were becoming valuable tools, and past friends were sidelining her, labelling her a traitor. Could she blame Ashley? No. Could she get angry? Hell yes.
"I know, okay?" she snapped. "But we have to look at the big picture here. Besides, without them, I'd still be dead - and if I was dead, this entire colony would be dead."
"I never said I regretted you being alive! I just hate the fact that you seem to have forgotten where your allegiances lie-"
"I haven't forgotten, Ash. My place is right here, between them and everyone else, and that's where it'll stay until I kill them or they kill me - again."
The fire never left the soldier's eyes; she could not be brought around.
"How are you so sure who the enemy is, Shepard?" she said, voice quivering with anger. "Two years ago, you were slaughtering Cerberus just as happily as Saren's geth, and now they're your buddies? Give me a fucking break-"
"Typical," Jacob said, looking offended. "Automatically branding-"
"Shut up," Ashley and Shepard snapped in unison, and for a moment they were on the same wavelength again. It didn't last long. Ashley had had enough; neither woman was prepared to concede her point, and Shepard had to admit that it was why she had admired the soldier the first time around. She had been just as fierce as the old bastard Wrex and twice as loyal. Now? Now, Shepard was merely a familiar face stuck to a familiar enemy, and nobody came out of the encounter looking happy. Thing was, Ashley didn't need Shepard anymore. That was what hurt. The Alliance solder left without looking back.
How had it come to this? Saving the galaxy couldn't be the wrong thing; every ounce of Shepard's being told her that she was fighting the right people. Her instincts were rarely wrong. Once, she had earned the scorn and dislike of a multi-raced council because of her near-vigilante ways, but at least everybody had recognised her as the face of their salvation. Perhaps her decline had started when she had chosen not to give the order to save the Destiny Ascension. Perhaps she should have let her sights widen a little beyond the need for Sovereign's immediate destruction. Perhaps she should have stopped seeing the galaxy in black and white, a decision as right or wrong; a bullet in the head, or a bullet in the leg?
These revelations were too late now. She was a hero, but she felt like scum. Once, her name would have gone down in history as an unequivocal saviour; now she was easily branded alongside a dark, xenophobic company, and the only people who didn't care were the people who lived in places like Omega. The only people who might accept her glorious, life-saving crusade no matter who funded her were not the people she most wanted to save.
She couldn't live her life as the hero. She knew that; she had thought that she wasn't so shallow. But watching Ashley leave after so cold a goodbye left her wondering. Who was she doing this for?
A gentle hand on her elbow caused her to turn only to see Garrus, who was watching her carefully. "Are you okay?" he asked, probably more aware of her thoughts than anyone else. She could only nod. She wasn't doing it for admiration, or love; she was doing it because it was right, and because nobody else could. Cerberus was full of xenophobes, assholes and murderers, but it was run by a man who had recognised that his very existence depended on Shepard's survival. Her trust for him was so slight that it could be cut by the razor edge of a hanar. She wasn't doing this for him. She wasn't doing this for any one individual.
It didn't make it easy to forget, though, and she couldn't help but look back where her past companion had disappeared. If even members of her old crew failed to see her point of view, people who surely should know that she only did what she did for the best of reasons, then what hope was there for salvation?
"Let's go, commander," came that voice, and she realised she was utterly wrong. At least one of them had listened to her; understood that she wasn't being blind; had needed no convincing before leaping right back into the firing line with her.
Such respect, such confidence, such faith. She had always fought back to back with Ashley, gun blazing as biotics flared. But she always took two. The first one had rejected her.
The second was standing right next to her.
Had that been the first time?
No, no, of course not. It had started far earlier.