you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be
Shepard, she's different from everyone he's met. Turians, Asari, Krogans. Humans. He's met his fair share, and he can't say Shepard matches any classification he's made over the years. The selfish, the heartless, and the selfless.
She's definitely selfless, yes. Yet she was much more… She's brave, strong, and regards the scars spread across her cheek and lips with something between pride and contempt.
She also doesn't question the galaxy anymore, and he doesn't think this a good thing. She used to question behavior, willing a small fire within her to stay aflame as she tried to figure out why humans—aliens—hurt others for the credits in their banking account while their hands were ugly mixtures of red and green blood. She's never said this question aloud, he knows, but the way she carries herself when in front of these people with their hands dirty and heart empty is telling enough for him all those years back. She's given them another chance, knowing people always deserve a second chance.
But now, after her resurrection, rebirth—he doesn't know what to call it—she's stopped questioning. She resigns herself with a small inaudible sigh as he draws her pistol from her holster and starts the mission. After what's happened with the Council and her former shell of a crew, she's stopped wondering why. She just accepts the fact that some people are. That nothing can be done to change it, but everything can be done to save victims from them. She kills those deserved to be killed, and she doesn't bat an eye nor does she regret it later and forgets the phrase 'second chances.'
Garrus worries over these developments, but he keeps his Turian mouth shut and his mandibles closed as he walks by Shepard's side and periodically casts side glances to her.
She seems angrier now, but she says he does, too, and maybe they're both right. But Garrus was always stubborn and doesn't admit to the fact that he really hates people now, but he won't hesitate to save anyone who deserves to be saved, and Shepard's just as stubborn and blames all of this, her attitude, her anger, on lack of sleep, and they both leave it at that.
Once, when he carries Shepard off to her bed after a long night of drinking which involved way more alcohol than he would have liked to course through her veins, she whispers something he almost doesn't catch, but his keen ears catch the end of it, and he gets the gist of it.
It's a jumble of words he's not even sure is said in the correct syntax.
But he was sure it sounded like…
Dragged me from heaven and clipped my wings.
-x-
He never asks her about it. Partially because it's not his business right now. They're close friends, but he doesn't want to overstep a boundary that's already been redrawn closer and closer to her ever since their reunion.
And because he doesn't know how to react to that statement. Doesn't know how to bring it up, and he knows he's being selfish by never asking Shepard to talk about whatever shit she needs to let out, considering she has the burden of the galaxy on her shoulders, but he hopes she already knows he'd be there if she ever did want to rant.
And because it's true, isn't it?
-x-
He remembers once, before Shepard's death, when they were on the hunt for Benezia in Noveria. Benezia was falling, unable to support herself any longer, and her face was a mix of sadness and joy for seeing Liara once more, and she utters words that drift up to their ears.
What? No light?
He wonders, when Shepard was alone in the expanse of space with oxygen being sucked hungrily out of every crevice in her body for her brain, whether she saw a light.
-x-
"Shepard," he greets when he can smell the vanilla waft into the room.
"Garrus," she smiles, and heads to the freezer, getting out whatever that attacks his sensitive nose as soon as she takes it out of the microwave.
He's cleaning his rifle, meticulous as he is with almost everything else he's done. The parts are spread across the table, catching light from the ceiling and occasionally reflecting into his eyes. He narrows his eyes as an effort to minimize the glare. Shepard takes it the wrong way.
"What's wrong, Garrus?" she asks nonchalantly.
Garrus looks up, noticing Shepard taking a seat across from him and shrugs uncharacteristically.
"Nothing."
Shepard nods, leans back onto the couch and lets a satisfied sigh escape her human lips.
"Shepard," Garrus echoes from his previous greeting, but this time his eyes are hard, blue glowing softly in the dim light and darker than Shepard remembers it years back.
"Yeah?" she says softly, carefully, as if any sudden move would break something she doesn't understand.
"When you were…" Garrus trails off, clearing his throat, "dying, did you see anything? A light?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he's so desperate to know and maybe to quell the nagging voice asking if this is all worth it in the back of his head.
Shepard pauses briefly, eyes searching somewhere behind him, and he counts the seconds before she answers.
One…
Her eyes don't seem to be looking at the wall behind his head anymore. Something only she saw when her final breath escaped her. It has to be something painful, he knows. It's what would create slightly down tipped lips and the slight biting of her bottom lip.
Two…
Her eyes come back to focus.
She brings herself to look at Garrus squarely in the eye with an intensity he was soon becoming accustomed with.
"I saw the light of the rising sun behind me."
Garrus nods, not expecting that answer—hell, what was I expecting?—and he goes back to cleaning his rifle parts. Shepard tries to lighten the situation after her response and smiles slyly.
"And you? What did you see when you were gunned down by the mercs?"
Garrus smiles, his mandibles twitching slightly, but Shepard catches it with her keen eyes.
"You."
-x-
They're suiting up, strapping various guns to their back and cautionary knives to their thighs, preparing to fight a Collector ship.
"Ready?" Shepard asks, after inserting a heat sink into her pistol and looks up to Garrus.
Garrus turns to face her, eyes soft and lips tilting upwards.
"Got your back, Commander."