Scars

Chapter 1: Life Support

Commander Jane Shepard breathed in the dry air of Life Support. Biting back what she would never admit was a sob, she thought with regret about Tuchanka. Thane would have loved the ruins they had discovered there, would have reveled in the arid atmosphere. Back during the Collector mission, the ground team had spent nearly a week on the desert planet, sorting out the Maelon situation and getting Grunt initiated into Clan Urdnot. Shepard hadn't thought to bring Thane along planetside. She would never get that chance now. Just another in an ever-growing heap of decisions she couldn't take back.

Tentatively, Shepard placed the holo on the table before her. She pulled out the chair facing the door, and it scuffled against the metal floor. She sat, reached across the table, and flicked the holo's power switch to on. From the black disc emerged a three-dimensional image of her recently departed friend, Thane Krios. His full lips were slightly upturned, and his onyx eyes glimmered with faint amusement. Something about him didn't look right. Shepard narrowed her eyes; the holo had a decent resolution, but it could not do justice to Thane's colorations. The hue of his shimmery skin would change with the light, a variable palette of lush greens, sensual reds, and sultry blacks. This approximation was as good as it was going to get. This was all that remained of him outside of her imperfect memory.

Shepard tried to remember everything she could. While on the Citadel, Thane had discovered he had a taste for ramen noodles and orange pekoe tea. His favorite sniper rifle was the M-97 Viper, due to its rapid rate of fire and relative light weight, but if he was given the choice he preferred to kill up close. He wanted to feel the life he was taking, so that it was something of substance. Something personal. What else? What else?

On the instances that Thane chose to play Skyllian Five, he had proved a formidable foe. He had met Izyryndos, the hanar who played Blasto, several times. Every once in a while, Thane would feel a twinge of pain in his left knee. This was from his early days as an assassin; he had tripped over some loose wiring during an escape, and had fallen directly on his kneecap. He now considered it a reminder always to be aware of his surroundings. Or, he had considered it so, up until…What else…?

The holo blinked. "Siha," it seemed to say, "You are being ridiculous. Forget about me and go save the galaxy."

Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, and shook her head almost violently. She couldn't forget, and what was more, she wouldn't. The galaxy was colder, emptier for the loss of him. Billions had died in this war already, but the heft of them all was as a single leaf compared to the weight of his absence. No, forgetting was not an option. Now. What else?

He was so damn cool. He kept weapons in places you wouldn't believe, and when he prayed to his gods, he meant it. Thane was convinced that one of these goddesses, Arashu, had touched Shepard. His nickname for her, siha, was not merely an affectionate moniker. He sincerely believed she was a warrior-angel, and that Arashu had blessed him beyond his worth to have sent two such beings into his life. The first, Irikah, had become his wife.

Shepard couldn't—no, that wasn't right; the man was dead, for fuck's sake, so let's dispense with the bullshit, shall we?—she hadn't wanted to feel too deeply for him. Kaidan had shown her how hero worship could twist into contempt and mistrust. So she had made some lame excuse about not being able to replace Thane's deceased wife, and backed away from the situation. Since we were done bullshitting, Shepard could acknowledge that this was one of the few decisions with regard to the late Mr. Krios that she did not regret. Certainly, he'd made her think highly inappropriate thoughts at highly inappropriate moments, and had done so damn near until the end, but Shepard needed a lover who regarded her not as a legend or a supernatural being, not as Commander "Fucking" Shepard, but as a deeply flawed equal. As Jane. She had found this in Garrus Vakarian. He was the best decision she had ever made.

And now, with all that out of the way, Shepard could say to her friend what she had ventured into to his old haunt to say. "Thane," she whispered, her voice raspy with grief, "the Reapers took Kahje…"

Gunnery Officer Garrus Vakarian silently contemplated the memorial wall. It was filling up too quickly; Mordin Solus had perished a few days ago while curing the krogan genophage, and today, Thane Krios died saving Councilor Valern's life. Garrus remembered the last conversation he'd had with Mordin, just before they'd hit Tuchanka. The salarian had summoned him to the med bay to discuss "medical matters."

"Krogan women attracted to men with scars," Mordin pointed out to the female they were calling Eve. "Garrus loyal, intelligent, occasionally witty. Shepard can attest."

Shepard was digging some shrapnel out of her leg with a large pair of tweezers, since Mordin was fussing with Eve and Chakwas had mysteriously disappeared from the med bay after they'd shoved off from Sur'Kesh. "All true," Shepard grimaced, yanking a tiny piece of metal from the wound in her thigh. "Plus, he's a tiger in the sack."

"Spirits, Shepard, let me get that," Garrus said, trying to ignore the teasing. He rushed to her side and plucked the tweezers from Shepard's fingers. The surprising part was that she let him.

"Forgot attentive," Mordin added, his thin lips almost forming a smile.

"What is a 'tiger'?" Eve asked.

"Earth species," Mordin replied. "Rare. Known for beauty and ferocity."

"Yup, that's me," Garrus drawled. He dug the tweezers deep into Shepard's thigh, and grabbed on to a big, sharp piece of metal. Pulling firmly, he removed the shard with a loud, sickening pop. "Beautiful and ferocious."

Shepard hissed in pain, and Garrus quickly dropped the shrapnel into a pan and applied medigel to her open wound. She exhaled, holding his eyes with hers.

"Better?" he asked.

"Better," she replied. "Thanks."

Garrus nodded, and pressed a dressing to the wound. "Now, if you two are finished arranging our marriage…"

"No offense," said Eve, "but I am definitely not interested."

"None taken," Garrus said, his bright blue stare meeting Shepard's green gaze. Shepard smirked, but said nothing. Her hand found his easily, as he'd neglected to remove it from her thigh. They were, for a brief, blessed moment, the only two beings in the galaxy.

Mordin cleared his throat. "Garrus. Need to speak privately. Meet you in AI core?"

"Right behind you," Garrus nodded. Shepard gave his hand a squeeze and then relinquished it. There was never enough time. Garrus followed the salarian into the AI core.

Mordin's dexterous fingers flew over a datapad as the door locked shut behind them. "You and Shepard still involved, yes?"

Garrus sighed. "Mordin, I'm not interested in Eve, if that's what you're getting at. Wrex would have my skull for a dessert bowl, in any event…"

Mordin waved his hand in dismissal. "Not the issue. Shepard under extreme pressure. Only one who can stop Reapers, save galaxy. Unthinkable burden, bearing entire war on… slender shoulders."

"Yeah," Garrus agreed. "I've tried to get her to slow down, but it's been one thing after another."

"Try harder,"Mordin said sternly. "Shepard not sleeping. Eating sporadically. Refused sleep aids, nutritional supplements. Psychotic break imminent if problem not addressed."

"Psychotic…? It's that bad?"

"That bad," Mordin nodded. "Possibly worse. Galaxy needs her in top condition. Trust you will take necessary steps."

But then came Tuchanka, and three straight days of fighting through Reapers, and Cerberus, and more Reapers. And it was only after Mordin had—how had Vega phrased it?—gone out "like a boss," and cured the genophage that Garrus could convince Shepard to get some sleep. She had not been happy about it, but she'd grudgingly allowed the turians onboard to take care of turian business.

Now, Garrus wasn't sure the rest had done a bit of good. The last time he saw Shepard, after Cerberus's attempted coup at the Citadel, he had noticed orange fissures emerging from the skin on her face. Her scars were coming back. She wasn't keeping up that positive attitude, and who could blame her? This war was taking its toll on all of them. But Mordin had been right. The galaxy needed Commander Shepard, never mind that Garrus needed Jane.

From Life Support, Garrus heard a scuffling sound. Shepard. The turian had been too lost in thought to notice before, but now he heard her clearly. He waffled between returning to the main battery and going to console her. Likely the latter would be unwelcome, as much as he wanted to hold her lithe body against his, to whisper platitudes and comforts. Garrus knew that Shepard and Thane had been close, perhaps too close. Normally, he would be jealous, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't deny Thane's charisma. The way the drell moved—smooth, effortless, like water—was something to behold. And he was a crack shot. Not as crack as Garrus, of course, but nobody was perfect. Hell, even he might have jumped the fence for the guy if Shepard had asked. He would leave her to her mourning. But then, she began to speak, and Garrus could not walk away.

"Thane," she whispered, "the Reapers took Kahje…" And so she told her dead friend about the indoctrinated hanar diplomat, Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair, and how she had made a split-second decision to save her partner Jondam rather than stop a virus from uploading into Kahje's defense system. She believed that she had made the wrong call, and blamed herself not only for the loss of the hanar home world—Thane's home world—but also for Thane's death. "If I'd acted more quickly, maybe we could have saved you," she rasped. "I failed you, Thane. I failed your people, and I'm sorry."

Garrus had heard enough. Mordin was right again; it was too much for one person, even the great Commander Shepard, to bear the weight of the galaxy on her back. Did she blame herself for Palaven, too? For Earth? For not doing enough to convince the Council of the Reaper threat while there was still time to prepare? Today, she'd had to kill Udina to defend Councilor Tevos, and she almost had needed to put a bullet in Kaidan to get the job done. Garrus resolved that somehow, some way, he would let Shepard know that his shoulders were strong, too, and that they were pledged to her. She would never be alone in this, not as long as Garrus drew breath. Just then, Shepard stepped out of Life Support.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, blinking rapidly. She put on her mask, that unfazed expression she used to convince everyone that the great Commander Shepard was unflappable. "Hey, Garrus."

"Shepard. Hell of a day," Garrus said. "Udina loses his mind, the Citadel almost falls, and you almost had to put down a friend."

"Got a little tense there," Shepard replied.

Garrus lowered his voice. "I'm sorry about Thane," he said. "I know you were…" Intimate? Riding that snake? "…fond of him."

Shepard nodded. "Thanks. He was a good friend."

"Clearly, he cared about you, too," said Garrus. "He had your back, and I appreciated that. And as loathe as I am to admit it, the man had style. Remember the day we met him? The way he took out Nassana and her thugs? Surgical precision. Blink and you'd miss him. It was…"

"Breathtaking," Shepard finished.

Garrus smiled, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You were swooning so hard I thought you might hit your head."

"You know, you're the only person to even mention Thane," Shepard said, her mask slipping slightly in the presence of her most trusted friend. "It's as if he never existed. What, we're supposed to just forget that he died in a god damned hospital bed because I almost shot Kaidan?"

"Like today was the first time that's ever happened," Garrus remarked, thinking of Horizon.

"I know, right?" Shepard shook her head, exasperated. "It's ridiculous, Garrus. Thane didn't want to die that way. He didn't deserve to."

The turian reached out and grazed Shepard's shoulder with his talon. "Kai Leng will pay for this, Shepard. The Illusive Man, too. Before the light goes out in their eyes, we'll make sure to give them a moment to rue the day they messed with us."

A sad smile crept across Shepard's face, and she leaned into Garrus's strong form. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her scalp the way she liked. "You're the only one who understands," she breathed.

"About Kaidan…" Garrus began after a few minutes. He didn't know why he insisted on filling the silence. She was right there in his arms, this incredible woman, and yet Garrus felt insecure about his place in her life. Shepard had insisted at their reunion that her feelings for him hadn't changed after six months' absence from each other, and she never had lied to him, even when it would have been expedient to do so. Still, so much had happened since then, and sometimes she was so hard to read.

"Oh, lord. Here it comes," Shepard mumbled as she tried in vain to bury herself deeper into Garrus's chest.

"If it had come down to it, could you have pulled the trigger?" he asked.

Shepard sighed heavily and looked up into the turian's earnest face. "Why is every question about what I would do in horrible situations? Just once, I'd like someone to ask me what I thought of the new Blasto, or what my favorite color is."

"But I know your favorite color, Shepard," Garrus said with a smirk.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm. It's blue, like my eyes."

Shepard reached up and gently touched the fading scars on Garrus's face. "That it is," she said quietly. "That it is."