Chapter One: Of Fathers and Their Sons
Opening his eyes, giving up on any hope of sleep, Garrus sat up in his bed and looked about the captain's cabin. The gentle humming of the engine, what was once a comforting sound that brought on pleasant dreams of the future and the promise of a better life, now served as a haunting reminder of what used to be but no longer remained. Garrus had not gotten a decent night's sleep in three months. If he did manage to will himself to sleep the dreams were always the same, inhabited by the ghosts and memories of his past. Most of them were of Sidonis and his team on Omega; their faces forever etched in his mind, their words, both of encouragement and those that were spoken before death recorded on an endless, torturous loop.
"How long will this go on?" Garrus said, "What more must I do? Hasn't there been enough suffering?"
These questions went unanswered for Garrus was alone, however in his mind he imagined that he had received a response and so acted accordingly and rose from bed. As he rose he could not help but notice the bedside table, which had a single picture one of Commander Shepard, during one of the rare quiet moments that she had in her life. It was simple in composition, Shepard taking up the standard two-thirds of the frame, the rest of it devoted to the observation window on the crew deck as it looked out onto one of the many nebulas that the Normandy occasionally passed through. It was the only picture that he had of her, for it was taken shortly after their courtship, and so, Garrus assumed that there would be plenty of time for more. Had he only known of the full implications of the war, and what it would ultimately mean in terms of his own life, he would have prepared his heart. He remembered the words that he had spoken shortly before she went off into the abyss and how little and small they had seemed in the grand scheme of things. If Garrus were to turn back time and change nothing but the words that were spoken, he would have said something more potent, something to give her strength in her final moments; maybe then, his heart would have an easier time of processing its own grief.
Garrus slowly turned to the laughably small closet that laid in the corner of the room and proceeded to dress himself. While this was going on George Bizet's "Habanera" his Carmen opera, played over the ship's loudspeaker curiosity of EDI, who had taken it upon herself, with some slight encouragement from Joker. Groaning, for he was not in the right state of mind to appreciate such things, let alone take note of the humorous qualities of the piece, Garrus turned upwards towards the ceiling as he buttoned his shirt.
"EDI" Garrus griped, venting his emotions into anger, "Cut that racket, it's too early!"
EDI laughed, for it was just like Garrus to shutdown anything that was remotely fun, the turian being a terrible morning person and thus, not one for conversation or jokes so early in the morning. Had it been late afternoon, or perhaps just before bed it would have been different, but now with his dreams still fresh in his mind and his heart heavy, Garrus was particularly hostile.
"Mandatory crew revival at this time is essential for maximum efficiency Garrus" EDI returned suddenly, her voice crackling over the loudspeaker, which was in need of minor repair, "Besides, we've almost reached the Citadel."
Garrus nodded as he finished his business, after which he made his way to his desk and began making notes.
"Patch me in to Samantha" Garrus instructed, still talking to EDI "There are some things that we need to discuss."
EDI immediately cut Bizet and patched into Samantha Traynor downstairs. There was silence for several seconds, Garrus assumed it was because Traynor was still asleep, for it was almost five in the morning, and the day did not technically begin for another hour; still, if only to avoid the deafening effect of the ship and the resurfacing of semi-repressed memories Garrus began to speak, delving into his weekly psychological session.
"Sometimes there are days when I wish I would have stayed in C-Sec. I probably could have dealt with the bureaucracy had I held back on the justice high horse and stayed the course. Hell, by now I could've had Captain Bailey's job, with all the benefits and kickbacks. It would have been a good life, even if it was an unfulfilling one. Maybe I would have settled down after a couple of years and live off of the meager royalties that I received. I would have eventually died in my sleep peacefully, surrounded by the few friends I manage to keep and the family I had grown. It would have been honorable, in keeping with tradition."
Several more seconds of silence followed, causing Garrus to sigh in pain, after which he turned his attention back to EDI.
"EDI turn on the Fate" Garrus instructed, "Broadcast it to the whole crew. Might as well make an early start of it."
EDI said nothing and only did as she was told and began broadcasting the 1st Movement of Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 "Fate" in C Minor over the loudspeaker as loud as it would go and not cause permanent hearing loss. Garrus meanwhile, stood from his desk and made his way into the elevator, descending down into the command center. Two minutes later he arrived, when the elevator doors opened he was met with Traynor, Dr. Liara T'Soni, and Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, his executive officer. All of them had the face of what Garrus could only describe as morning hatred, the kind of hatred that comes with being awoken too early for something that none of them necessarily wanted to do but were required to do under circumstance.
"Status report" Garrus began, specifically to Traynor, who had been promoted from secretary to senior communications officer, which was just another word that Garrus liked to use in place of secretary, in order to fit her new quarters, an office space on the starboard side of the ship.
"We should be arriving at the Citadel shortly sir" Traynor said, yawning a bit, as she took the notes from her relief, the night officer retiring to bed, "No major incidents to report. You do have some private messages on your terminal, but those can wait until we dock."
Garrus nodded and turned his attention to Ashley.
"Did you remember to place in that requisition order?" he asked, "We need those parts if we're going to keep the Normandy running like this. And what about those new armor chest-plates? Can't go fighting insurrectionists if we don't get our armor repaired."
Ashley, who like Garrus was not much of a morning person, sighed and gestured towards the elevator door, motioning for the turian to follow. Garrus, not really in the mood for personal one-on-one confrontations of any serious nature, rolled his eyes and begrudgingly made his way over, if only to appease her and not look like a total asshole.
"What is it?" Garrus pried, "Anything you can say to me you can say to them, you know that. We have an open floor policy now."
Ashley shook her head and casually rolled her eyes, for if it was one thing she hated more than being woken up early with Beethoven it was being woken up early with Beethoven for no particular reason. If Garrus had wanted a status report he could have easily looked into the ship's log and found it in seconds, if he had wanted a weapons check or to issue an armor repair, he could have done so from the comfort of his room without waking the whole crew.
"Damn your open floor policy Garrus" Ashley declared, "We've been fighting insurrectionists for months now. We've searched practically every corner of the galaxy and we have little to show for it."
Garrus laughed and nodded in full agreement, for that only meant that they were doing their jobs; as if their presence alone had quelled any insurrectionist sympathy that had developed since the conclusion of the invasion. He had heard stories, most from the Terminus Systems, which had always been beacons of the dissolute and deplorable, that Council support had dwindled significantly there; all of the military strength being sequestered to the centralized zones of the galaxy, the small pockets of civilization serving no real chance of survival with only the ragtag mercenaries and militia to hold off the attack. It was a sad state of affairs, especially as far as Omega was concerned, Cerberus controlling most of that area for the few months that the invasion lasted, but it was simply the way things were. Garrus wanted to open his heart to them, but he knew that without Council support meaningful action was nigh-on impossible. The best thing that they could do, that anyone could do, was live life in the ways they knew how, and that meant keeping as much peace as would be allowed.
"The galaxy is still healing Williams" Garrus exclaimed, "We cannot allow people to ransack homes and break away from Council control, no matter what their current feelings. We need to work together- now more than ever- if things are ever going to be the way they were."
Ashley folded her arms and shook her head, for that was exactly the kind of thing that Shepard would say, only with a little more grace. She found it interesting that Shepard's mannerisms, particularly her sense of idealism and slight naivety in terms of her humanism, had rubbed off onto Garrus. It would have been humbling, had it not been for the fact that Shepard was dead; her memory and her life, still fresh in the minds of those who knew her best.
"You took that straight from the Commander's mouth didn't you?" Ashley said, laughing a bit, if only because she was being reminiscent, "No way you came up with that one on your own."
Garrus rolled his eyes and turned towards the galaxy map, partially insulted despite understanding Ashley's mindset completely, for he had similar thoughts.
"I have been known to write my own material Ashley" Garrus returned, joking, "But that one- might as well have been blatant plagiarism."
What followed could only be described as an awkward silence in which no party, neither Ashley or Garrus, nor Traynor or Liara- the former having gone back to her duties at her terminal, just shy of the galaxy map, which she still maintained despite having an on-site office and the latter still waiting to be addressed formerly- said a single word in favor of the personal company of their own thoughts. The longer the silence lasted the more time it allotted Garrus to dwell on his inner demons, particularly his flaws and idiosyncrasies, as his mind, and more importantly his soul, were reduced to nothing. It was during times of silence and self-pity when Garrus turned to his father, for although historically they were not particularly close, especially when it came to Garrus' departure from C-Sec, they were still family, and as a result, confided in each other frequently.
Garrus remembered during the initial invasion of Palaven, how rushed and hurried everything had been, and how the minutes, which never seemed to be long enough, felt like hours; how three words turned into thirty as broken static and poor connections became the worst kind of deterrent accompanied by torturous sounds possessing the ability to destroy everything that made Garrus' heart. He thought about how, even during such a strenuous time, his father became something that he never deemed possible: he became present. Garrus' father listened, he listened to his son talk about the Reapers and the threat they posed, about Cerberus and their questionable allegiances, and about his time on the Normandy. There was nothing that was left out, no details were spared, save for one- Garrus' personal relationship with the Commander.
"It's funny" Garrus exclaimed, allowing his inner thoughts to be heard, if only for them to be judged, "I never told him about us- Shepard and me. I guess I thought that there would be plenty of time."
Garrus' breaking of the silence, abrupt as it was, could not really do the situation any kind of justice; for no one would deny that they all still felt the pain of the loss of Commander Shepard, albeit in different degrees and while they each had their own thoughts to air they dared to speak them, for it was clear that Garrus trumped them all. Liara, who never had any reason to doubt anything that Garrus did, believing him to be infallible when it came to good intentions, smiled and steeled her heart, in her head, holding on to the idea that by healing Garrus she in turn would also be healed.
"I'm sure you had your reasons Garrus" Liara declared, "And I'm sure that he would have approved."
Garrus laughed, as if the very idea was an insult; which it was, given the subject. Garrus' father, who had never been supportive of anything that his son did, would have scowled at the idea of Garrus courting a human, regardless of rank or position; he would have been happier if Garrus had decided on a krogan, the long arch-rival, than humans. Garrus knew this, and knew it with such a remembrance that it was an impossible thing to forget about his father, a defining feature of his character. There would be no point in convincing him otherwise, for if there was one thing that ran deep into the Vakarian family line it was tradition.
"You don't know him like I do" Garrus returned, "That man's body is as cold and unfeeling as Noveria."
It was at this moment that EDI appeared from the cockpit, her stride confident and with a certain, almost unnatural energy that made everyone around her envious; definitely a morning person. Garrus, slightly concerned by her approach, if only because he was getting a little uncomfortable being surrounded by women, wishing for once for a change of scenery, leaned nonchalantly on the galaxy map railing and casually looked up at the ceiling.
"Whatever it is can it wait?" Garrus said berating, wanting nothing to do with EDI, "We're kind of in the middle of something."
"You can feel bad about yourself later Garrus" EDI quipped, "Right now you need to get down to the lounge, Dar and Lokann want to speak with you."
Garrus nodded silently, in his head thankful that he been given a reprieve, if only to give himself more time to compose more properly.
"Did they say what they wanted?" Garrus asked, a hint of worry in his voice, for most of his conversations with Dar and Lokann, a volus and salarian respectively, ended in disaster, mostly on the part of Dar, who had been assigned to the Normandy as a replacement for Tali'Zorah. As for Lokann, whom Garrus had met during his time on Omega, he was the ship's bartender, one of the many additions and benefits of being the saviors of the entire galaxy; a welcome addition to the crew, Lokann, as well as the added benefit of being a non-licensed confidant came with the bonus of an extensive encyclopedia of various civilizations- a useful skill when traveling the galaxy on missions of peace.
"They weren't specific" EDI admitted, "Only that your presence was of great importance."
Garrus nodded once more, for this could mean several things- one, Lokann was open for business and serving drinks, and Dar, who was usually early for such things, was already there and wanting to talk of times; or, two, that Lokann had found something of significant interest in his research. If history had anything to prove, it was a little bit of both.
"That's fine" Garrus returned hurriedly, "Tell them I'm on my way; and if you see Salivan, tell him that he needs to either rise early like the rest of us or find himself on the nearest desert planet."
Entering the elevator Garrus smiled and gave a gentle wave to them all, a universal signal that he frequently used since the war to mean that all further business would be conducted at a later time. He had once heard the Commander tell him that when it came to humans there were only two rules to remember when it came to communicating with them: one, they respond to universal hand gestures frequently, and two, never tell them the odds. The second one stuck with him the most, if only because Shepard was the living definition of the term; and not just when it came to her military career. It was an amazing thing, Garrus thought, that they had stayed together for as long as they did, almost as if an invisible hand was guiding them. Garrus, being spiritual to a certain degree, was not a big believer in fate, despite being an avid supporter of happy coincidences. Whether or not his relationship with Commander Shepard was a coincidence or not was something that he was not willing to discuss, if only because it did not matter as to the circumstances of their union; the fact remained- he was with the Commander, and he was better for it.
"I don't know if you can hear me" Garrus whispered, in a way talking to himself, but on a deeper level talking to Shepard, "But if you can, save me a seat at the bar."
Garrus did not know why he maintained that the spirit world was a bar; maybe it was because it was one of the few places in which troubles disappeared for a while, or maybe because on the hard days it could be a literal heaven. In any case, for a moment, this interpretation troubled him, not because it was a bar but because he could not think of anything better. He had heard some people speak of golden streets and green fields; mostly humans but a few salarians, and one in particular who fancied the beach, but Garrus had little faith in such imaginings; for Garrus understood only what he knew, and what he knew was what the inside of a bar looked like. Perhaps, he reasoned, that were he able to let go, he would be able to have an afterlife of green and gold; but then such a thing was impossible by design, for letting go was an impossible task, one that required a heart that was fixed and full, not broken and empty.
Exiting the elevator and hanging a right towards the lounge Garrus casually passed the crew quarters. Peering in, he could see Salivan, a turian, and Abel, a krogan, rise from their beds as they prepared for the day. Salivan was a former C-Sec officer, who like Garrus went rogue after a few years; his past he kept guarded, only revealing small pockets of information on rare occasions, but still Garrus trusted him, if only because of the word of Primarch Adrien Victus, who claimed that Salivan was the best pure biotic of his kind. Abel, like most krogan, was interested in the art of war, but unlike most krogan, had taken an oath of pacifism, his interest in warfare not extending beyond the creation and distribution of weapons. In addition to his smith-work, Abel was also a capable medic, and so, unless absolutely required on the field or per Garrus' request, he remained on the Normandy, in order to access the fully stocked med bay and tend to the wounded. It was an unusual arrangement at first, especially if history had anything to say about it, that the turian and krogan were in the same living compartment, but somehow they made it work. The official story they always gave was a lack of space- this was a lie, and like all lies that hid nuggets of truth, it was much more simple than the reality of the situation. Under the assumption that they would be forced to work together every single day, the choice of such an arrangement was entirely their own; all that was required was three hours of sparring for a week, in order to sort out as much of their differences as possible. Garrus, who held an open recruiting policy, following Shepard's example, saw no reason to argue over the decision, and so Salivan and Abel emerged from the same room.
"Good morning gentlemen" Garrus said as he walked past, "Did you guys miss the wake-up call or were you too busy sleeping?"
Salivan huffed and rolled his eyes, annoyed that he was being accused not even five minutes after waking up; it was an insult to his character, as well as Abel's, who expressed his annoyance on much more vocal terms.
"For your information we weren't sleeping" Abel declared, his voice always loud and always half threatening, "We were compromising, only managed to get a few hours in."
Garrus raising his eyebrows curiously, for he always had trouble understanding Abel, the krogan often using words when he often meant the complete opposite. In this case, it was entirely the case, for they had been arguing not compromising, for the past four hours, about the relevancy of the Normandy and its current peacekeeping mission; Salivan making the point that since the mission had begun all that had been done was the quelling of insurrection against the Council, and that as a result, the peacekeeping aspect of their cause was a front as the Council used the influence and fame of the Normandy as an extension of their hand, a more extreme, and heavily psychological version, of the Spectre program. Abel however, took the side of practicality, stating that if such a thing were true that Garrus would never agree to it; since the Normandy held no true allegiance, the taking down of insurrectionists was an action of peace, given that most of them were violent acts against innocent people recovering from the devastation of the war.
"What was it this time?" Garrus asked, trying to hide his annoyance, in no mood to negotiate an understanding between the two of them, "If this is about the rations again I told you, everyone gets their fair portions equivalent to their daily caloric intake."
Salivan laughed and shook his head, for it was nothing as trite as that, especially considering that that matter was already settled last week; with Abel, as he often did, winning it by a margin of possessing a generally positive attitude, a rare trait.
"Please give us some credit Vakarian" Salivan exclaimed, trying to redeem, "We would never stoop to such lows again; we gave you your word on that."
Garrus nodded, slightly relieved that it wasn't something stupid, and that it might actually be of critical importance.
"What are we doing here?" Salivan continued, moving forward, his curiosity peaking, "You claim that we're on a peace mission yet here we are fighting insurrectionists. If we're on orders from the Council that's fine, as long as you're upfront about it."
Abel glanced towards Salivan, slightly nervous, for such accusations were usually followed with brawls, which had been the beginning of every war that he had heard about; if the punches started flying and no one saw the reason as to why they began and questioned the motives behind it than war was inevitable.
"Don't start Salivan" Abel said, standing in for Garrus, at the same time moving towards his commanding officer, "If we were working for the Council Garrus would have told us. There's no conspiracy, just your paranoia."
Salivan shook his head pitifully, laughing to himself at Abel's unnatural faith in Garrus; one of the many things about the krogan that he never fully understood. To him, such loyalty was a sign of ignorance, something that he had seen enough of in C-Sec, and was one of the many reasons why he left the Citadel in the first place.
"A bit of healthy paranoia saved my life more than once" Salivan declared as he took his leave, heading for the mess hall, hoping for a scrape of breakfast, "If you had any brains at all you'd be scared from time to time too."
Garrus emitted a sharp whistle and turned around, causing Salivan to instinctively stand at attention, hating himself for it, Garrus having struck one of Salivan's mnemonic personality quirks, a result of an early OCD diagnosis. Garrus did not have much cause to use such things against Salivan, or anyone for that matter, without good reason; and if it was two things that the turian absolutely hated aboard his ship it was conspiracy theorists and insubordination. Giving him the hardest stare that he deemed appropriate, Garrus snapped his fingers, bringing Salivan almost within arms distance, and began his piece.
"Let me set the record straight for you by telling you- again- what it is that we do here. When the war ended there were millions of people across the galaxy left with nowhere to go; they were forced to return to their rubble filled worlds and homes if they had that much left at all! I don't know where you came from, if you were a Citadel kid, if you grew up on Palaven or if you were just some guy from a hick colony on the fringes of space but you became an officer at C-Sec for one reason and one reason only: You wanted to protect the less fortunate and a make a difference-"
Salivan, who took this verbal abuse with all the courage he could muster, remained completely still. He wanted to call Garrus out, for he was not born on the Citadel nor was he from a colony; instead coming from the center of Palaven and that he became an officer not for the righteous and noble reason, as in part as Garrus had done, but for the sole reason of pleasing his father, his family like most in turian society coming from a long of military careers and politicians. Salivan did not say any of this, for he wanted to let Garrus finish, if only to see there was a point to his lecture, and then, when the opportune moment arose, crush the point with blunt realism.
"That's what we're doing" Garrus continued, "Part of that job was fighting insurrectionists."
Abel, who noticed Garrus' sudden use of the past tense, could only deduce that its usage meant that their insurrection suppression had ceased and that presently, they were returning to the Citadel to give the news of their success, resupply, and find a new worthy cause worth pursuing.
"When did we stop fighting the insurrections?" Abel queried, mostly for the benefit of Salivan, who remained as stiff as a board.
Garrus sighed and bade Salivan to rest, at the same time non-verbally forgiving him for his harshness, letting his eyes speak for themselves, and shook his head. He could not remember the last time they had officially ceased their campaign, if it had been weeks or if it was only in the last few days; for it made little difference. The only thing that mattered was that they would be at the Citadel within the hour, and that thought was a comforting one.
"We received word from the Council that our operation had done its purpose and to report back with any findings that we had. Given the political delicacy of the situation, it seemed only fair to keep them in the loop. But make no mistake, either of you, the only colors we fly are our own."
Salivan gave a hard salute and quickly made his exit, sulking to himself and ashamed that he had been beaten into submission through intimidation. Abel smiled and laughed to himself, knowing the turian's true thoughts and what they represented.
"Don't worry about him sir" Abel said as he slapped Garrus gingerly on the back, as was customary between the two of them, "He's just got a chip on his shoulder because he can't fight like a real turian."
Garrus, who returned the gesture, looked back in the direction that Salivan had gone and instantly began to pity him without knowing the reason as to why; for he knew so little about him that the feeling was involuntary and unnatural as if it was transferred from Abel, who actually did harbor such feelings, to himself without any knowledge of it coming from either of them.
"Why is that?" Garrus returned, "Don't tell me it's because he's a biotic."
Abel nodded, seeing no reason to deny what Garrus had spoken to be true.
"That's the way of it" Abel explained, "You should ask him why he left C-Sec sometime. He'll say it was because of the bureaucracy and the red tape, but one glance in his eyes tells you otherwise. Salivan; he was a troubled kid at one point, no doubt about it."
It was moments such as these when Garrus was glad that he made decisions such as housing arrangements, for it not only served a practical purpose and saved space but also bolstered a sense of comradery among the crew, developing into an almost symbiotic relationship. In the case of Abel and Salivan, it was slightly different, on account of Abel's pacifism, which Garrus argued only made the relationship that much more potent, for it meant that Salivan would do his best to stay alive and Abel in turn would his best to make sure that Salivan stayed that way. It wasn't a fool proof idea, this much Garrus knew, but it was an idea that when it worked, it worked incredibly well.
"Why lie?" Garrus pried, as actual concern entered his voice, "He has nothing to hide and nothing to prove. That only leaves emulation, and if he is trying to emulate someone, who?"
Abel laughed and shook his head for one final time, as if the answer to the question was obvious. The krogan, who was stickler for all things dramatic, said nothing, only allowing Garrus the biggest smile he could give and a customary wave as he rounded the corner to the mess hall. It did not take long for Garrus to find the answer, and when he found it, he could only help but pity Salivan more. Turning away and continuing his trek to the lounge, Garrus, thankful for the distraction that Abel and Salivan had brought, resisted the urge to turn his thoughts to Shepard or to his father, and instead, for the first time in a long time, thought of nothing but himself.
