They shared drinks in her cabin, just the two of them. While on their first tour of duty together on the SR-2, Shepard's cabin had been practically off limits, there'd been a policy change the second go-around. Nightly drinks, dinner, and shooting the shit, that had all become commonplace with the more familiar faces. Liara and Garrus at first, the likes of Tali and Kaidan when they'd rejoined the crew, and then as time passed, even Vega, Cortez. It was familiar, the company of others while recounting the day's tales and kill tallies, but right now, this was something else, a little quieter.
Shepard stared up at the stars much like she'd done down in Observation, but this time she was laid out on her back, arms spread wide across the bed. Garrus took point on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table. The fish tank occupied most of his attention, but every so often he allowed himself the privilege of glancing back towards where Shepard lay, still as could be.
"Do Turians believe in souls, Garrus?"
"I'm sure some do, somewhere," he replied after a breath. "But our general ideas on spirits really aren't the same as what Humans think of when they say soul. Everything has a spirit, every idea, concept, thing. If someone believes it, puts faith and stock in whatever it is, it has a spirit. Those," he tipped his head to punctuate his words, even if she wasn't looking, "are our Spirits."
"But do you have one?" Shepard rose, elbows back into the bed to support her as she watched him.
"It isn't about the individual, more about the big picture. The Normandy, we'd say there's a spirit to the Normandy, and it encompasses all the things we've accomplished with it, all the things it stands for. We're a part of that."
She sighed and let herself fall back into the wrinkled blanket, arms splayed around her head haphazardly. Defeated, that was how she felt and looked.
"I was going to ask why you were looking for religion when you've never needed it before, but," and he too sighed and relaxed, letting his body ease into the couch some more, the back of his head and fringe coming to rest on the top of the couch's back. "I don't think this is really about religion at all."
"I found out some things yesterday while we were in the Cerberus base, things about me, about how they made me."
"Let me guess," he nearly laughed, "Cerberus had more up their sleeve than they ever told you? I'm shocked, they're usually known for their open book policies."
Despite herself, Shepard was left smiling at the camaraderie shared between them. She wanted to savor it all, from the sound of his voice to the rumble of laughter in his chest, from how easy things were to feeling as though she rightfully belonged where she was. While it could last, she wanted to hold on to it.
"Why are you letting it bother you?" Where he'd been light before, he was serious now, serious and quiet. "You know better than to let them get into your head, Shepard."
"It's…" her eyes shut and head shook side to side where she lay. Shepard palmed over her closed eyelids, further blocking out the light of the room. "What if I told you I wasn't the same woman you knew three years ago?"
"Hmm," Garrus considered the question audibly. "I'd tell you that I wasn't the same Turian you knew three years ago either."
It was true, she couldn't fault him that. The Garrus that she had met on the Citadel years ago was so very different from the man he was now, changes all made for the better. He'd been something of a friend before, but now he was so much more. A real friend, one until the very end. But still, she knew it wasn't quite the same.
"I mean," she cleared her throat, "that I'm really not that woman. I'm not… I'm not Shepard."
His facial plates shifted, and simultaneously, Garrus sat up and on the edge of the couch while Shepard also rose, sitting like a child in the middle of her unmade bed. Their eyes met across the way and Garrus inclined his head in silent question, asking her to go on.
"We found her there. The one who died on the SR-1. Just what was left," she finally looked away, down to her hands as she laid them, palm up, once again in front of her. That scar, it would never be there. "I'm a copy, Garrus. They couldn't rebuild her so they made me instead, and gave me her memories so it was like I'd never died and I could finish the—her—fight."
She didn't want to look to him, didn't want to see the horror on his face just like she'd seen it on Kaidan's in that empty laboratory while they both peered in on what remained of the woman she was made in the likeness of. Shepard hunched forward, slouching, and continued to stare at her hands, desperately wanting to slip through them and all the floors below, out into the ether like the first Shepard had gone.
"And now," she continued through his silence, "I don't know who I am or if I should be alive at all. Where do I go from here, knowing this? Do I keep assuming a life that isn't really mine? Is it my life? Do I go out there tomorrow and hope that I don't make it out—"
"Never say that," he cut her off. Shepard glanced up at his harsh tone, and he was staring at her, unwavering.
"Why? The woman you had loyalty to is dead. I'm just a non sequitur."
Garrus closed his eyes, a single shake of his head given as she spoke. He was calmer when his eyes reopened, and his dual-flanged voice showed for it. "I've spent more time with you on this ship than I ever did with her."
Shepard looked away.
"So if you're trying to tell me I'm not loyal to you, then—then you really have lost your mind. It was you who came to me on Omega, got me out of there five minutes before the end. I spent the night with you before we went into the Omega-4 relay. You, who I thought about every day while you were locked up, and you who found me on Menae. The other Shepard—" he waved a hand dismissively, "whoever you or she was three years ago, that Shepard was a hell of a woman and a soldier. But the woman that's been here since then—Shepard, look at me."
She couldn't lift her head no matter how hard she tried, just continued to avoid him as she bit into her lip, clenched her eyes shut while her hair obstructed the view of her face. A ringing sounded in her ears in the quiet of the room, and the next thing Shepard felt was the mattress of her bed dipping with added weight and then the warmth of his gloved fingertips to her chin, tilting her head up. When she opened her eyes, he was looking right back.
"You've been even more than she ever was."
There was so much conviction there, she wanted to throw away every doubt that had made its home rooted in her head over the last twelve hours. Fear, though, fear was a powerful thing. "I don't understand how you can say that," she pled her case, the final verdict of which she'd already assumed on her own. "Why don't you hate me? I've just been pretending—"
"Have you? All this time, you've known you weren't her and you've been concealing the fact from everyone?"
"You know what I meant."
"Yeah, but it doesn't mean what you're saying isn't crap, Shepard."
Her teeth gritted in frustration. She'd already made up her mind in how she expected things to go with him, and yet they continued to deviate. As hard as it was to make her confession, she felt she owed him the truth, and she was prepared to deal with the consequences as she'd already done with Kaidan. But one misstep outside the bounds she'd prepped for, and she was left floundering.
"I'm not saying it's not… completely fucked up, even for Cerberus," he gave in to her side, "but I'm not sure I understand what you think should happen. Go in to tomorrow hoping to die because you think it's on your shoulders to right some wrong that was done to you?"
"To her."
"To both of you, then. You're just as alive as I am and while I know that I'll gladly die tomorrow to do my part for the galaxy, to save a friend, or to protect you," he reached for her wrist, and like she'd done to him earlier on the crew deck, he squeezed reassuringly, "it doesn't mean we should go looking for it."
"Why? Why would you do that?"
"Because you've always done it for me. I may have a better kill count," he playfully knocked their knuckles together, "but even I've got to begrudgingly admit I owe you a few when it comes to dragging my sorry ass back to safety."
The corner of her mouth fought the hint of a smile that crept over.
Garrus visibly eased. "Give Kaidan some time."
Shepard's brow knitted together, wiping away the previous moment of contentment. "I'm not sure there's anything left to give him time for."
"If this is where I'm supposed to take sides, let me first and foremost say that I always did think he was a hard-headed bastard."
Though it was quiet, even Shepard couldn't keep herself from laughing. It was exactly the response Garrus had wanted, and his wide-spread mandibles gave him away. Shepard patted his cheek and let it become a casual caress. "Don't mention it to him, all right? We've all got enough to think about tomorrow."
He sought out both of her hands and folded them within his own as he stood from where he'd taken a seat on her bed. Garrus gripped them tight to give her the answer she was looking for. "I'll see you in the morning. Do me a favor, don't spend what's left of the night worrying about things you can't change."
They released one another and Shepard nodded. He reached the doorway, but before he could depart, she had one last question for him.
"If souls exist, do you think I have one?"
His hand lingered on the open doorframe and he turned his neck just enough to watch her with a single, visor-covered eye. "I'm sure of it."