Ghost
By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)
PART ONE
Garrus briefly considered helping himself to a few drinks before heading off to the Presidium. It wasn't like him, but he couldn't help entertaining the notion. The sooner today was done, the sooner the emotional roller coaster he'd been on since Anderson's email would be over. Maybe there would be some closure at the bitter end.
He didn't want to dwell on it. Hell, he'd spent the last month struggling not to dwell on it. Shepard wouldn't have wanted him to dwell. She would want him to move on, become a Spectre. She would have wanted him to let go of her.
She rarely got what she wanted, not even in death.
The files and accounts of Spectres were automatically frozen upon death, unless they had someone to take control of them within the Spectres-or rarely, as in Kaliya Shepard's case, within the Citadel Council itself. Her professional assets and files had passed to Anderson three weeks ago upon confirmation of her death. But her will, private residence here on the Citadel, personal belongings, and any inheritance of those had yet to be settled.
Garrus dressed quickly, his movements mechanical. Black civvies, as Williams had suggested. No weapons or armor, no personal ornamentation. This might just be a human legal ceremony, but he was determined to look his best out of respect for her.
A lump rose in his throat as he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked nothing like what he usually did, nothing like how she might have remembered him in those last moments. A low growl started in his throat, and he took several deep breaths to compose himself. This was a formality, nothing more. It would take a few hours at most, and then he'd drop by the shooting range, get some practice in for his Spectre training like he'd done every afternoon since Saren's defeat.
He was early, but he wasn't keen on just sitting in his apartment alone and waiting. He made his way hurriedly toward the Presidium, to Councilor Anderson's new office, where Liara and Williams would join him.
They were the last three members of the elite team that defeated Saren. Wrex had gone back to Tuchanka, and Tali to the Flotilla, just days before Shepard's death. With the absurd security around the Citadel during reconstruction, they had no way of getting back in time for any of the memorial services. Alenko had died a hero's death on Virmire. And now Shepard was gone too.
It hadn't sunk in yet. He hadn't really let it. The grief, the anger, the guilt...they hovered at the edge of his mind, a monster waiting until he stopped moving to pounce. He shut his eyes in the shuttle on the way over.
Her face followed him everywhere these days. Not just in the vids and ads and memorial material yet to be taken down from the Citadel's walls. If he looked too hard, stayed still for too long, he could see her. The first time they'd met on the Presidium. Her slamming a merc's skull open with her biotics in Dr. Michel's clinic. Her swift, light footsteps on her way to her induction as a Spectre. The ghost of her walked beside him, a pale imitation in perfect detail.
Before he knew it, he was standing at Anderson's office door. Still a little early. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a somber-faced Captain-no, Councilor-Anderson, clad also in black.
"Councilor," he said respectfully, nodding to Anderson.
"Garrus. Glad you could make it." Garrus was surprised to see Ashley already there, along with a powerfully-built human man, older with steely silver hair and eyes.
"Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet," he said at Garrus's inquiring look, holding out a hand for him to shake. Garrus recognized the voice immediately. "Just here representing the Alliance."
"The Alliance?" asked Garrus, puzzled.
Hackett shook his head. "You shouldn't be surprised, Vakarian. Shepard was one of ours before she was a Spectre. One of the best."
He knew that, but this made no sense. Why would the Alliance be present for a reading of her private will? Hadn't they already dealt with Shepard's official records? He was about to ask when he caught Ashley Williams' eye and quickly excused himself.
"What was that all about?" he asked her in hushed tones. He didn't bother with pleasantries about why they were here. The less he thought about it, the better.
"Politics," she said, shaking her head with disgust. "Her official memorial's over, and they can't keep their damn fingers out of her private life. Shepard deserves better."
She continued in a low tone at Garrus's confused look. "Alliance brass thinks she might've left them something in her personal records, since all her professional stuff, Alliance or otherwise, went to the Council. Idiots."
He felt a lick of anger, one that threatened to stoke all the things he'd kept at bay into an inferno. He clenched one hand and slowly mastered himself. "Shepard would never do such a thing," he said with forced calm. Kaliya Shepard was subtle and reserved, but she was a consummate professional and always followed the rules-as long as she could.
"That's what I told Anderson. But I'm just a soldier. Apparently the brass think they knew her better." Ashley made a face and shook her head, glancing sidelong at Hackett, who was still deep in conversation with Udina.
There was another knock on the door, and Dr. Liara T'Soni walked in, looking nervous and a little out of place. She gave a strained smile when she saw Garrus and Ashley, and quickly made her way over to them. Garrus was in no mood for small talk, but the quiet buzz of Liara and Ashley's conversation gave him a convenient distraction.
Shepard's Alliance crew began to trickle in. Chakwas, Joker...Garrus couldn't help but notice that most of these people were the same ones who'd attended her public funeral, people from the mission to hunt Saren in the past few months. But here, they didn't act like colleagues. It was uncomfortable, an unknown territory somewhere between mission crew and something much more personal.
A few minutes later, Anderson cleared his throat, putting a welcome end to the hesitant, stilted small talk. He looked like he wanted to give some sort of preamble, then just shook his head and hit a few keys on his omnitool, bringing up Shepard's will. He took a deep breath and began to read in a carefully flat voice.
I, Kaliya Shepard, being of sound and disposing mind, declare this to be my will, and revoke any and all wills and codicils I previously made.
I am, nor have I ever been, engaged in a civil partnership. I have no children, nor any surviving family of whom I am aware.
I appoint David Anderson as executor of my will. He shall have all powers granted by applicable laws to carry out the provisions in this will for my personal assets. My professional assets and files are to be handled according to Citadel regulations due to my activities in the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance arm of the Citadel Council.
I have no related inheritors for my personal assets. These are to be liquidated upon my death, sold anonymously. My total net worth is to be used for founding a military scholarship for disadvantaged youths on Earth. My personal records and files on my console are to be permanently erased with no copies made.
Signed, sealed, published, and declared to be the last will and testament of Kaliya Shepard, before witnesses and legal counsel, this 5th day of November, 2183.
The words washed over Garrus like so much static. Hackett asked Anderson if there was more, and the Councilor simply shook his head. No final closure, no poetic last statement. Just instructions and information-how very like her.
"Shepard's apartment and personal belongings came into my possession upon her death," Anderson was saying. "I'll carry out the details of her instructions, but I could use some volunteers to pack up her things."
"We'll do it. Garrus, T'Soni, and I."
Garrus started out of his trance at the sound of his own name to see Ashley, fire in her eyes as she looked at Anderson. For a moment, Hackett and Anderson looked at each other, as though wondering how to say no. Then Anderson merely nodded and closed the will, looking far older than his years. He handed Ashley the keys to Shepard's apartment, and the people in the room quickly began to trickle out.
It was only upon arriving at Shepard's Presidium residence that Garrus counted how few had been present to hear her will. It'd seemed like a lot more in Anderson's confined office. Her Normandy crew, Hackett, Anderson, and Udina. No family to speak of, some politicians, and just a few friends. Only then did it hit him how alone she really had been at the end of the day. For all the people she'd indelibly touched, this was all that was left of her: a legal document, and a spotlessly clean apartment.
It was one of the nicer apartments in this area, an open and bright three-roomed suite, with wide windows facing into the light, and dark paneled shelves in the living room. But it felt less like a home and more like a hotel-it lacked the immediate warmth of having been lived in, and a thin layer of dust covered all the surfaces.
"Come on," Ashley said. "Let's get this over with."
He couldn't have agreed more. This place was foreign, alien to him, down to the dishes still neatly stacked next to the sink. It felt wrong, like a gauntlet on the opposing hand.
"I'll...err...leave her bedroom and to you and Liara," he said awkwardly, making his way into her kitchen and beginning to pack things away. He couldn't help feeling dirty, like he was intruding on the little flashes of her life that shone through the everyday items.
Silver-rimmed dishes, with floral patterns etched in exquisitely fine detail. A dizzying array of cooking utensils, all well-worn with use and care. A pair of little crystal condiment bowls, in the shape of two sleeping animals. A strange brass tube covered in dials, clearly old and valuable, in a glass display case. He tried to block it out, but his detective's mind automatically filed away every little detail. He could hear Williams and Liara talking softly and focused on that sound instead as he started packing up the kitchen.
"...and I thought I was a tomboy," he heard Williams saying. "No heels here, not one pair."
"Perhaps the commander simply found them uncomfortable," said Liara. "I know I do."
A low chuckle from Williams. "Cute flats, though. She likes...liked...blue."
The conversation from Shepard's bedroom fell quickly silent, and he was back with his own thoughts as he made his way into her living room. He blinked, startled as he realized that the dark paneling covering the walls was in fact shelves, filled with books. Real, old-fashioned human books, fragile paper pages and binding and all. Some of them were locked behind more glass cases.
Fascination won over propriety as he slowly made his way from shelf to shelf, entranced. He turned on his omnitool, translating the human language of the titles. Colorful children's books, novels, collections of poetry, plays. Nonfiction as well-sciences, military history, politics, and a large section on moral philosophy. The ones behind glass were clearly older, the text on their spines faded and dull-maybe hundreds of years old. He could only imagine the prices she must have paid to get them.
There was a large console and desk here too, powered off. Above it hung a small fabric scroll. He held up the omnitool, reading the translation quietly to himself.
"I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
Driven by curiosity, he accessed the extranet and looked up the phrase. Some sort of human religious text, maybe? The results came up with an old human novel, of all things, from hundreds of years ago. He kept an eye out for the title as he began packing the volumes away, taking greater care with her precious books than he would have if they were his own.
He found it locked in the final set of shelves. He stared at the worn hardback book in his hands, and a sudden, mad temptation seized him. As though his hands were out of his control, he found himself tucking the volume away in his jacket.
Liara's voice from the hall way suddenly made him jump. "Garrus, we've finished with-"
He turned around and saw her, looking curiously at the empty shelves and the volumes packed neatly away. "I never knew Commander Shepard possessed such a library," she said, sounding fascinated. "It's a pity that it's all being sold."
Garrus nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak. Her book weighed more than it looked like it had. Liara crossed to the darkened console, glanced curiously at the scroll hanging over it, then turned back to Garrus.
"What do we do with this?" she asked.
"Wipe it and sell it with everything else, as per Shepard's orders," he said mechanically. Her last set of orders to them...to him.
"What if she had something important on there? Something to do with the mission?"
Garrus shook his head emphatically. Part of him burned with guilty curiosity, but he wasn't going to go poking around in Shepard's things just to sate it. "She wouldn't have. She kept her personal and professional life completely separate. We're wiping it."
Liara booted up her omnitool and he saw the home screen of Shepard's console. A picture of snowflakes-he remembered her once saying she missed the snow. And suddenly, a wave of grief and anger seized his throat. He had to turn away, head for Shepard's room rather than stand there and watch Liara work.
He'd been so close. Little pieces, fragments of the woman behind the Commander, spilled out every day as they got to know each other better. But now not only was Commander Shepard lost to him, but Kaliya, the woman he'd just started to befriend, was disappearing in a swirl of zeroes and ones being erased.
He had to get out of there soon.
"It's like watching her die again, isn't it? A part of her, anyways."
Ashley had stepped up behind him, her voice a little choked. He was about to comment on it when he saw that her eyes were glassy, though no tears fell.
"I think we're done here," she said, still in that odd, constrained voice. Her face softened a little and she added, "I'm sorry. You were close to her."
Garrus closed his eyes and nodded. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat was still lodged shut. Finally, Williams patted him on the arm as she started heading for the door.
"Go say something to her," she said, turning back in the doorframe and gesturing to Shepard's bedroom. "A prayer, or whatever turians do. She's with God now. She'll hear you."
A sudden, mad urge to laugh seized him as the exact expression Shepard would wear upon hearing such words burst into his mind's eye-a small, bemused smile that just brushed her eyes. He controlled the insanity quickly, his mouth saying pleasantries while he himself was light-years away.
He waited until Liara and Ashley had left before taking Ashley's advice. He went into her room and shut the door behind him.
It too was stripped mostly bare. Open cases sat on the floor-clothes, shoes, photographic prints, a few brightly colored scarves poking out of the top of one storage crate. One was a deep blood-red with subtle patterns that glimmered in the light. He pulled off his gloves and ran one hand along the material. It was cool to the touch, red water made solid.
Garrus sat down on the bed. He'd never been religious himself, and he knew for a fact that Shepard wasn't-he'd asked her about human beliefs once, only to be given a bemused chuckle and a recommendation that he ask Williams instead. For her, gone was gone, death utterly final.
But he'd be lying if he said this place, with the boxed-up debris of her life, wasn't haunted. He didn't know if the spirit that once lived here could hear him. He couldn't say with any certainty that he'd really known who she was. Her file only gave so much.
What had she been like as a child? What were her favorite vids? Her favorite foods? What things had she imagined here alone at night? Her deepest sorrows, her darkest secrets, her greatest joys and most desperate desires...he had only splinters of these with which to form an image of her.
"Shepard," he whispered, feeling distinctly foolish. "Kaliya. I-"
He shook his head and growled in frustration. Even her first name sounded foreign from his mouth. What could he possibly say to an empty room? That he was unspeakably sorry, furious at her for dying, and furious at himself for not being there...that he'd admired and trusted her beyond measure, that she was the inspiration for him doing more, being better. That maybe, in his own fashion, he had begun to think her beautiful in so many ways-
He couldn't do it. She was never coming back. He stormed from the room, and in his haste, didn't even notice the few hot tears that fell on the threshold. Fumbling with the omnitool, he locked the door and left.
It wasn't until he'd reached the Presidium that he realized how far he'd walked, senseless and unfeeling. Garrus took a few deep, slow breaths. His feet had led him here, to the base of the Conduit. Just on the other side of the Presidium were the Council chambers.
Ghostly shapes swam before his eyes as he watched the construction crews working busily. In their shadows and bright uniforms he could see himself, greeting her months before. It was then he realized he had to get off the Citadel, and fast. Spirits were supposed to only exist for a unit or a team, but for him, Kaliya Shepard was in everything. Every sight, every sound, every shadow of every soul. Even his top-of-the-line armor and weapons had been a gift from her.
He didn't think she'd approve of him just running away; he could even see the slight frown on her face, hear the calm but firm voice. You'll make an excellent Spectre, she whispered. The Council will need men like you in the days to come.
"I'm not the Council's man," he murmured back. "I was yours. But you're not coming back."
He turned from the Conduit and began making his way back to his place in the Wards. She was gone for now, but he knew she'd be back, until he summoned the strength of will to let her go.
The only trouble was that he didn't know if he wanted to.