AN: A few ME3 ending headcanons: Noah Shepard is a paragon adept who chose to destroy the Reapers. Not all Reaper-based technologies and synthetic life were destroyed (heavily damaged, but salvageable). The Normandy did not land on a deserted tropical planet, but another planet in the local cluster.
"How is she?"
Garrus looked up from the datapad in his hand, eyes strained from the bright charts and numbers on the screen. How could he answer? He glanced to the occupied bed beside him, numerous cords and machines enclosing the unconscious patient. The constant, artificial beeping indicative of a heartbeat and the slow hiss of air pumps all pointed to the same answer.
"The same," he sighed, rubbing the plates of his face, "The doctors keep saying no news is good news, but I never understood that one."
Liara, whose features were as flawless as the time before the war, offered a weary smile. Garrus mentally cursed the near immortality of the asari – their understanding of death was less finite. "Did Shepard ever tell you the one…" she began to ask, walking up to the side of the bed. Her eyes glossed over as she saw Shepard's heavily scarred and bandaged face. It was hard to look at.
"A watched pot never boils."
"I don't like the sound of that one," he muttered, reaching forward to gently brush his talons over Shepard's hand, "Are you asking me to leave her?"
The young archeologist shook her head, turning away to pick up the chart at the foot of the bed. "It's been almost three months, Garrus. I have yet to see you outside this room," she said softly, "Your family is worried. We're worried."
His subharmonics emitted a low croon of guilt as he asked, "What would I do if she woke up and I wasn't here?"
"You would come back," she answered, "Shepard would understand. She wouldn't want you here, neglecting your duties."
Garrus was silent as he looked over Shepard's broken body. With her cybernetics offline, what would have been healed in just a few days or weeks was taking months. Ribs and limbs were broken, skin was burned, lungs were punctured, and her long dark locks Garrus came to love was shaven off to treat cranial injury. It was a wonder that she was even alive at all.
"You're right," he accepted, "She would want me off my scaly ass and helping with the reconstruction effort."
Liara set the clipboard back down and smiled to her teammate, "I am glad that you understand. We would really benefit from your help. You were her second in command after all." She placed a hand on Shepard's shoulder and whispered, "May the Goddess be with you, Shepard."
With a grunt and several joints creaking in protest, Garrus got up from his chair. "Give me a minute?" he asked, mandibles fluttering anxiously.
Nodding, the asari quietly left, granting him the privacy he needed. Garrus stood over Shepard's bed, trying his best to ignore the incessant beeping of the useless monitors.
He was trying his best to see Shepard as his Shepard, not as the mangled body that was in front of him.
"Shepard—"
He cleared his throat and glanced to the empty hall outside the door.
"Noah," he said, his vocals softer and lower, the voice reserved for her alone, "If you can hear me, please, come back."
As gingerly as he could, he held one of Shepard's hands in his. A familiar pain returned to his chest, causing his subharmonics to sound again.
Garrus tried to rationalize leaving his mate's side, for his turian instinct was to wait until she was back on her feet. "Remember when I wanted nothing more than to work solo?" he asked, "Joining the Normandy was just a means to an end. But damn, you humans are hard to ignore.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is… I need you back here, with me. I'm lost without you, Noah. So please, wake up."
His mandibles flared in a weak smile as he adjusted the blanket on her body, "But try to when I'm here, okay?"
After a quick check on her vitals, Garrus gathered his things and left, the first time in three months.
It was dark.
The tarlike blackness was overwhelming, swallowing everything whole. Shepard felt herself sink, her lungs filling and choking her. As she was drowning, a small light in the distance caught her attention. It began to grow, blinding white light enveloping the darkness.
But as the light approached, Shepard's ears started to ring. The quiet buzzing turned into a loud horn, painful and debilitating. Shepard pulled at her hair in an attempt to dull the pain, but it only caused the sound to get louder.
It was bright.
The light was accompanied by a voice. A voice that belonged to an old, almost forgotten enemy: Saren.
"You have failed," the voice boomed.
Shepard doubled over, vomiting blood that immediately stained the white of her surroundings. "You have failed everyone," the voice taunted again, "Your choice to destroy has brought much more than victory. You are the harbinger of destruction, of suffering, of death—"
"I did what had to be done," Shepard opposed, lifting her head to find the source of the voice, "I destroyed the Reapers. I saved the galaxy."
"And how many lives were lost to accomplish your goal? What are the consequences of your decision to destroy? You have failed."
The red of her blood soaked through the rest of the space, the putrid stench burning her senses. The scream of a Reaper reverberated from Shepard's core.
"You have sacrificed races for a cause you deemed paramount! You destroyed centuries of progress for your cause!"
Shepard yelled, but the sound that left her lips was not her own. Another Reaper scream.
"You are no different than the Reapers! You were playing god!"
Her cybernetics whirred and creaked, growing under her skin and ripping through. She was becoming a husk, a shell of her former self. Her certainty was replaced with shame and regret over her decisions. She began to question every mission, every choice.
Commander Noah Shepard was dead, bringing the galaxy down with her. She wanted nothing more than to start over, to wipe the slate clean.
She was drowning in her own blood.
And she screamed.
Garrus lowered the volume of his visor, flinching as Tali's mouth continued to run at supersonic speeds. "Tali," he tried to calm her, "Could you repeat that, well, the whole thing? And try to talk at a speed the translator will recognize."
Tali sighed audibly, her enviro-suit picking up the noise. "Shepard is awake," she repeated, "She's been awake."
"That's impossible – I would have heard," he said, more to himself than to Tali. A low growl was forming in his throat. "How long?" he asked, shutting off the monitors he was working with. He was already calculating the soonest he could catch a shuttle to London.
"Apparently she ordered the clinic not to alert anyone. Liara was only able to find out after doing a sweep of their systems—" she rattled off.
"Spirits! How long?"
Tali's voice feed was silent for a few seconds before she answered meekly, "Two weeks."
His blood began to boil and his pupils retracted to pin hole dots. In a haze, he grabbed as much of his work as possible before storming out of the door. "I was supposed to be contacted as soon as she woke up," he snapped. A few heads turned his way. He tried to control his voice, "What aren't you telling me?"
"Garrus, I…" He could practically imagine her fretting with her hands as she tried to formulate her words. "There was a name on her visitor log just three days after she woke up," she admitted, "Kaidan. And he's still with her."
"That makes no sense. He's supposed to be leading the relief effort in Canada," he replied, feeling his scales begin to itch. Something wasn't right.
Garrus made his way through the makeshift command center, dodging piles of rubble and occupied tents. Though the Reapers were destroyed months ago, the damage they caused was unavoidable. The sky still radiated red with pollution and ash in the air. Unstable buildings were being demolished and the beginnings of new ones were just taking shape. Only a couple of mass relays were salvageable and fixed, but the remainder were still out of order.
The death toll was still rising on planets that couldn't manage sustainability without constant trade. Communications were spotty, but at least now, calls could be made in the same orbit. All of Shepard's team remained on Earth, in constant coordination with militia and political leaders.
"It's going to take me half a day to reach London," Garrus said, waving down a shuttle pilot at the dock, "Where are you? Still in Malaysia? You should be able to get there before me—"
Tali cursed under her breath, but her enviro-suit amplified the sound. "Something happened, Garrus. Shepard isn't herself," she said, stopping him in his tracks, "Her memory suffered."
The pit in his stomach grew and his fringe flattened back. "How much did she lose?" he asked. Amnesia wasn't unheard of among injured veterans, and the therapy to revert it was close to perfect. All they would need is time.
"Four years."
Four years.
Garrus slowly came to a stop, just a few feet from the shuttle's door. The turian pilot, who was in the middle of a routine check of his engines, immediately looked up when he heard the grief emanating from his passenger. The turians in the vicinity all turned towards the mournful sound, and a chorus of empathy followed, all unheard by the human ear.
Four years.
So much had happened in four years. Garrus couldn't fathom the amount of relearning Shepard would have to go through. He couldn't bring himself to move into the shuttle waiting for him.
Four years.
It was like losing Shepard all over again. It wasn't until after her death and after Horizon that they got together. Four years of slow growing, patient love and understanding were now gone.
Four years.
"Sir, will we be departing?"
Garrus looked up to the pilot, just now noticing that Tali was still talking on his visor. He ended the call abruptly, empty gaze on the pilot. "Y-Yes," he answered, forcing his feet to move forward, "To London."
As he settled into his seat, strapping himself in, hesitance began to grow. One thing was certain: with four years of memory gone, Shepard would not see Garrus the same way he did her. And knowing that broke his heart.
With Shepard's current state, what right did he have to visit her? She closed herself off, only notifying Kaidan—
Four years.
Garrus' fist flew awry, beating against the hull of the shuttle. "That bastard," he snarled, finally connecting the dots, "That fucking bastard!"
He unlatched his harness and paced the length of the shuttle, distant memories of Kaidan and Shepard together fueling his anger and sense of betrayal. His talons dug into the hide of his palms, beads of blood dripping down. Kaidan didn't bother notifying Garrus of Shepard's condition and, spirits help him, he wasn't going to allow the human to forget it.
