Shepard's Son

Garrus Vakarian wasn't what you would call a… "kid-person." He didn't dislike children, but he was a soldier for Spirits' sake. He wasn't really used to… watching out for other people unless it was with his sniper rifle. Cover someone's six? No problem. Wipe their nose? Awkward. But that was hardly the point. Shepard had asked him to watch him just for the day. He could handle that, right? Even if he couldn't, there was no saying no to Commander Jane Shepard.

So that's how Garrus found himself there at the table, eating breakfast as the human boy watched a vid that Shepard had downloaded from some Earth channel. It was apparently a typical show for human children to watch, but Garrus couldn't understand the appeal at all. The puppet-like creatures were just… creepy. Just add it to the ever-growing list of things he didn't understand about human culture. But the boy was enjoying the program, so it couldn't be that bad.

Jason. Garrus briefly stopped enjoying his meal to watch the boy. Spirits was he a lot like his mother. Same friendly but shy smile, always on the brink of his lips when he was happy but rarely manifesting itself as an outfit grin. Same attentive look in his eyes, focusing completely on what was before him, soft towards his friends but hard as stone when he needed them to be. Same devil-may-care attitude with the same easy-going nature underneath.

Garrus knew that any other physical similarities he perceived were probably just his imagination, caused by his inexact understanding of human physical characteristics. He had never paid much attention to these things before Shepard, not really anyway. So he couldn't be sure if there really was the same general shape to their noses, if the shade of their eyes – which he could swear was almost identical – was really so similar or if he just didn't see whatever it was that made it just different enough for a human to notice.

How could Jason look like Shepard? He was adopted, after all.

Cerberus had done a marvelous job putting her back together. The scars had long since faded, and no one could say she was any different. But some things just can't be put back together. Some things just can't be rebuilt. Just ask Miranda.

Shepard and Jason first met in a back alley of the Citadel, where Shepard had just cleared out some mercs. They had been keeping the poor kid in the hopes of using him for no doubt nefarious purposes. Slave trade probably. Shepard had never been bothered by her inability to conceive. Like Garrus, she never seemed to be a "kid-person." But something happened when she saw the small boy huddled under a blanket, trying to make himself invisible. Her heart went out to him.

Unable to leave him in the custody of C-Sec, she had brought him on board the Normandy. Garrus was never quite sure what it was that made her adopt him in the end. Some deeply buried maternal instinct? Some instant connection with the boy who would end up being her son, as if she somehow knew? Or simply that she couldn't leave a fellow orphan on a place as unforgiving as the Citadel without someone to look after him, someone that actually cared? He'd never asked her about it because in the end, did it really matter why she did it?

Jason may not be of the same blood as Shepard, but he had picked up a lot of her habits, looks and gestures in the short two years he had been with her. No doubt about it, the kid was hers. And Garrus was equally sure that they were the only two humans in the whole galaxy he'd be able to recognize at the drop of a hat. The only two he would take a bullet for. Every time.

But babysitting him? On his own? Garrus sighed – one of those human things he'd picked up years ago – and continued poking at what was left of his breakfast. C-Sec regulations? Tedious and boring, but sure. Saren? Dangerous, but okay. An army of mercs on Omega? Barely a challenge. The collector base? Why the hell not? Stopping the Repears? Didn't even break a sweat (lie). Spectre training? Kind of a let down after the three times he had followed Shepard into hell and back. But keeping Jason entertained and out of trouble for a whole day? He just didn't have the proper training… The kid really was Shepard's son. He'd be in trouble before the hour was out. Maybe Garrus would have a whole two hours of peace if he were lucky.

"So…" Jason said, interrupting Garrus' musings. "What are we going to do today?"

Stay on the ship to limit the amount of collateral damage and the likelihood of you getting lost?

"What do you want to do?" he asked nervously.

"Well…" Garrus knew the hesitation was bullshit. The kid no doubt already had the whole day planned out. The kid didn't disappoint – the rest came out in a huge rush. "I wanna go to this pet store I heard about in the Wards and I wanna see the C-Sec interrogation rooms cuz Mom said you used to work there and I wanna visit Uncle Anderson at the Embassies and maybe-"

"Officer Vakarian."

Saved by the AI, he thought morosely. He didn't even bother correcting her – it'd been how many years since he actually worked at C-Sec? – and gave an apologetic look to Jason before replying. "Yes, EDI?"

"There is an incoming transmission being directed to you."

"Are you going to be okay for the next couple minutes?" he asked Jason.

Jason raised an eyebrow. This did not bode well. Ugh, just like his mother- "So… we'll start at the pet store?" he asked wickedly.

Garrus' mandibles twitched slightly. "I… suppose…"

"Then I'll be fine," he smiled sweetly, turning his attention back to the vid.

"Office Vakar-"

"Yeah, EDI, I know. Send it to the terminal in the gunnery." Garrus took a quick last glance back at Jason before leaving the boy to his own devices in the mess hall. This had better be important… But really, how much trouble could the boy get into in the mess hall?

It turned out the call was only somewhat important. An old friend of his had sent his contact info to an experimental weapons manufacturer, letting the manufacturer know that he was interested in purchasing their newest, badest assault rifle. Shepard's birthday was coming up, after all. He wasn't sure, but Garrus was sure it could have only been four, five minutes. They had just finished negotiating a price when he heard it.

"This had better be the best damn rifle I've ever seen," he grumbled, though his displeasure was only feigned. He had gotten a really good price.

"I assure you, Spectre Vakarian, it is of the highest quality-"

THUD.

Garrus held up his hand, stopping the man mid-sentence, trying to place the sound. It was so familiar, something he'd heard a million times…

A body hitting the ground.

He didn't even bother ending the transmission as he rushed out of the gunnery and back into the mess hall. It took him three painful seconds to find Jason's body, twitching on the ground under their table. He pushed the chairs aside roughly, not hearing them slam against the wall (probably broken), trying to get a better vantage point. Jason was going blue, still twitching, his breathing labored and his eyes not really focusing on anything.

As he gently lifted the boy's head, Garrus looked around desperately for the cause of Jason's distress. Vid still on. Jason's food untouched. Both cups covered in condensation. Garrus' food tray… had it been tilted so precariously on the edge when he left? Had he really eaten that much?

Oh Spirits…

"EDI. Mordin. NOW."

Garrus rushed into the med bay, placing the boy on one of the cots with a type of care he usually reserved for calibrating the scope of his rifle. Then he waited. Waited. Waited. He silently cursed Chawkas for being on shore leave. Cursed Mordin for being so slow. Cursed Legion for looking at him curiously from the AI Core. Cursed Shepard for leaving the boy in his care. Cursed himself for being such an idiot.

Had the elevator always been THAT slow? He paced back and forth, though not getting more than a few steps in before rushing nervously back to Jason's side, desperately wishing he could do something. Mordin arrived and immediately started working. It couldn't have been more than three minutes, but it had been the longest three minutes of his life. The only thing that compared in agony was when he had heard Shepard had died or when he thought she wouldn't make the jump out of the Collector Base or when the Reapers-

"Need more space to work. Please step aside." Garrus was hovering and he knew it, but he couldn't focus. He nodded, moving back slightly. All he could do was stare into the eyes of the boy who was struggling to breathe and stay alive. The boy stared back, confused and scared. He trusted me...

He caught a few words here and there. "Allergic reaction… anaphylactic shock… injection required… " They could've been spoken in Krogan for all he cared or for all the effect they were having on him. The boy reached out towards Garrus, gradually becoming more lucid but still not quite himself. Garrus took his hand and squeezed it gently, soothingly. Or as soothingly as a talon could do the job. It'll be okay. You'll be okay. It'll be okay.

"Yes yes. Boy will recover. All taken care of."

Garrus blinked, his confusion growing as he looked at Mordin. Did I say that out loud?

"Need to take more care, Vakarian. Boy apparently allergic. Dextro-based foods not to be ingested. Should be fine now. Administering mild sedative. Will wear off in an hour."

"Thank you," Garrus managed, his voice weak. Turian's weren't capable of heart attacks, but he was sure that hadn't stopped him from nearly having one.

Mordin fidgeted slightly, and coughed into his fist. Was the salarian… nervous?

"Should I… uh… have Shepard informed…" he let the question hang in the air between them.

Oh, thought Garrus as he caught on to the cause Mordin's distress. Shepard did have a tendency to go "mama bear" as Kasumi called it when it came to Jason's health – and in this case, his life – being in danger. "No, I'll tell her when she gets back." My fault for not watching him, my responsibility to tell her myself.

"Very well," Mordin said, visibly relaxing. "Shall leave you two alone. Will check in later." He brought over a syringe and injected the sedative. Jason had already been drifting unconscious, but the path was eased as the liquid relief shot through his veins. The boys eyes rolled shut. Garrus would have been worried if he weren't breathing so much more easily now.

"Thank you," Garrus repeated emphatically just before Mordin left. He could never express his gratitude to the salarian for saving the boy's life. The doctor merely nodded in acknowledgement before leaving the room.

Garrus pulled over a chair, careful to keep a hold of Jason's hand the entire time, causing him to stretch awkwardly around Chawkas' desk for her chair. Luckily he had the reach to do so without disrupting the sleeping child. Sitting as comfortably as he could in the damn human chair, he ran his other talon through the boy's hair, a very human gesture that he somehow found himself quite often doing to show the boy affection.

He couldn't even think about how Shepard would react to all this. He was sure she wouldn't take it too badly, provided Jason was back on his feet before she got back. But his mind didn't really have room in it to fully consider that. All he could really concentrate on was the enormous sense of panic he had felt, the wave of utter loss that had been threatening to break through if the boy had died. The desperation as he had called for Mordin's help. The guilt that was now replacing the relief he had been feeling for the last two and a half minutes.

By the Spirits, how he loved this boy. If anything had happened to him… He growled at the very idea. It. Would. Never. Happen. Again. he promised himself fiercely.

Nothing will happen to Jason Vakarian so long as I have anything to say about it.

AN: First attempt at Mass Effect fanfiction, so be gentle, though of course constructive criticism is appreciated. Specific things purposely left vague (such as the age of the boy, physical description of Shepard, etc). Please let me know if it was effective to leave the boy's "father" unknown until the end. Thanks for reading

Credit where credit is due – idea of Garrus and Shepard adopting a kid has been running through my head since I read "The Hundred Year Distance."