Two
It's almost endearing to watch Tali bludgeon her way through the receptionist's deflection.
"All you have to do is say our names, and I am certain the Councilor will make time."
"I'm sorry," the receptionist says pointedly, "but the Councilor is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed."
"So the problem is inclination," Tali snaps, "not ability."
Three short years—from a quiet little pilgrim to a confident and assertive commando. Garrus watches the exchange from just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, suppressing a laugh.
"You're right," says the receptionist with a thin smile. "The Councilor is disinclined to be disturbed. If you wish to set up a meeting, you may do so through your ambassador."
"Quarians do not have an ambassador."
"Oh yes, that's right."
He sees the tension ripple from her shoulders to her fingertips and decides to intervene.
"Listen, it was a bad idea. Let's just go," he says quietly, placing a hand on her elbow. She doesn't shake him off but refuses to move, hands curled over the edge of the desk. The console buzzes intermittently.
"You're going to regret this tomorrow," Tali promises. "We'll be back with friends."
The receptionist raises an eyebrow.
"Is that a threat?"
"That's far enough," Garrus decides. "C'mon, Tali, let's go find the crew."
He grabs Tali's hand and pulls her to the door, nearly colliding with a furious Udina.
"Norris! What the hell is going on out here? I've paged you a dozen times for—Garrus?"
"Udina," he returns.
The ambassador takes a small step backwards, folding his arms defensively.
"Can I help you with something?"
"We were trying to see Anderson."
"He's in a meeting," Norris volunteers brightly.
"We're aware," Tali says with a snarl.
"What exactly is this about?"
"Are you his secretary?" Garrus asks with a laugh.
"Advisor," Udina says, bristling. The old irritation oozes through Garrus, who leans back into the door again, suddenly unwilling to give up so quickly. "I assist Anderson with Council matters."
"Then this doesn't concern you," Tali snaps.
The door to Anderson's office slides open, and the Councilor himself appears, mouth thin with agitation.
"What the hell is going on out here? I'm in the middle of a meeting!"
Norris rockets to his feet, attempting to block Tali, bow, and offer a datapad all at once, but it's pointless—he unbalances, tipping into the desk, and Garrus steps into Anderson's glare.
"We were hoping for a moment of your time," he says, and Anderson breaks into a grin.
"Garrus? Of course. Norris, why didn't you tell me they were here? Come in!"
He offers a hand to Tali and ushers them inside, allowing the door to slide shut in Udina's face.
"I'm sorry about that," he says. "I hope you weren't waiting long."
"It's alright," Tali replies. "We thought it might be a bit of a long shot."
"What brings you here?"
"Forced shore leave," Garrus says, and stops short when he sees the figure on the balcony. Fury hits him first, then shame, latent, squirming up through his gut. Tali breaks the short silence.
"Kaidan!" she says warmly and launches herself into his arms. Kaidan returns the hug hesitantly and then steps back, eying Garrus, expression perfectly blank.
"What'll you have?" Anderson says, oblivious. "Norris can get some dextro brandy."
They sit and make awkward small talk—at least, Tali and Anderson do, Kaidan adding an occasional word, but Garrus just stares, not yet trusting himself to speak. There's a small scar running from Kaidan's ear to his jaw, and he rubs at it nervously. He doesn't meet Garrus's gaze.
"So," Anderson says at last. "What's this about? If it's the Collectors or the Alliance—"
"No," Garrus says quickly. "It's personal. It's...it's Shepard."
Anderson nods politely, as Garrus and Tali exchange uncertain glances.
"What about her?" Kaidan says neutrally, knuckles white, grip squeaking on the glass.
"I suppose, well—"
Tali's hands twist in her lap.
"There's something different about her."
Anderson is patient, willing to wait them out—Kaidan less so, voice controlled, addressing his empty glass.
"What do you mean, different?"
"Paranoid," Garrus says, surprising himself. "Quick to anger, threatening crew members, even people I thought were her friends."
"Just this morning," Tali adds with a nod, "she called everyone into the briefing room and told us she was allowing Alliance inspectors aboard, as a show of good faith. Miranda—Lawson, the Cerberus agent who's sort of the second-in-command—she protested. Nothing violent, just that the ship was proprietary, Cerberus had spent a lot of money and resources."
She falls silent, and Garrus understands: the whole thing seems absurd, somehow.
"What happened?" Anderson asks.
"I don't know how to explain it," Tali says miserably. "She wouldn't even look at Miranda, just stared down at the table for a moment, and then carried on as though she hadn't spoken at all."
"Odd," Anderson concedes carefully. "But no commander likes their authority to be questioned publicly."
"It's more than that, though. It was—I don't know, the way she looked."
Garrus stands suddenly and stalks out onto the balcony. Their purpose had been so clear this morning, their concerns laid out perfectly, a reasonable statement from start to finish.
"I don't know how to explain it," he says, glaring out at the Presidium. "It's easy to blame what happened on Horizon, but there's all these things—little things, little changes that keep adding up."
He turns back, too late to see any reaction from Kaidan, but Anderson is frowning, staring down at the brandy bottle.
"I can tell you the inspection part is true," he says after a pause. "She called me and arranged it, but the inspectors won't start for another day."
"She told us thirty-six hours. Kicked everyone off, even Joker."
Anderson glances at Kaidan, who is busy turning his empty glass around and around on the tabletop. He sighs and stands, crossing to the far wall. Garrus has no objection to the new distance.
"She sent me a message, a few weeks ago," Kaidan says, reluctantly. "It was...disjointed. I thought maybe she was angry or—"
"What did it say?" Garrus asks. Kaidan glares.
"It was personal," he says shortly, which Garrus translates as none of your fucking business.
His omnitool flashes suddenly, and the others look politely away as he answers the message. It's Joker, staring at something off-screen.
"Oh, hey, Garrus."
Joker pauses.
"How're things?"
"This better be important. I'm busy."
"Yeah, um, I'm comfortable categorizing it as urgent."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing," he says. "Just, uh, Miranda and Jack are about to tear each other in half. Right outside of Dark Star."
Tali looks up, and Garrus sighs.
"In case, you know, you want to swing by and stop it."
"We're on our way."
"Miranda and Jack?" Tali says. "Hardly a surprise, but—"
"We'd better go before C-Sec gets involved."
He turns to Anderson, shrugging.
"I'm sorry to just dump this on you and leave..."
"I understand," Anderson says, holding up his hands. "I thought there was something off when she called. I'll try to talk to her. We're supposed to meet tomorrow. I'm not sure what help I can be, but I'll try."
They pay the driver extra to hurry, and the bar is still standing when they arrive. They have to push through a small crowd to reach, Garrus growling aside gawkers and tourists.
"I will smear the walls with you, bitch!"
They managed to keep their amps, somehow, possibly coasting on Shepard's goodwill with C-Sec—Jack lifts a nearby chair and smashes it into the wall near Miranda's head.
"We should have just left you on the Purgatory," Miranda snarls. "You're endangering the mission with your selfish obsessions!"
"I'm endangering the mission? I just opened her eyes! You went and fucked with her head!"
"It wasn't like that!"
"Bullshit! Cerberus doesn't give a fuck about who it breaks or how bad—just as long as you get what you want. They're never people, just assets to use and throw away!"
"You don't know what you're talking about," Miranda says, low.
Garrus chances a quick look around the gathered crowd—most of the crew are massed behind Miranda, including Jacob, who hovers nervously, half-risen from his chair. Thane is visible in the shadows, back and above the crowd, catching Garrus's eye and shaking his head. Grunt and Zaeed lean on a rail behind Jack, predatory, tensed for the fight. Chakwas, providing an arm for support, stands with Joker.
"C'mon, princess," Jack purrs. "Take a shot. Or does your Illusive Daddy need to write a permission slip first?"
"Back off, Jack," Jacob says, taking a step forward.
"Fuck you!" she snaps. "Let your girlfriend fight for herself."
"You were a mistake," Miranda says with a cruel laugh. "So much effort wasted. Cerberus should have let you die in Teltin with the rest!"
Garrus is already moving, reading the punch telegraphed in Jack's posture, but Zaeed gets there first. He shrugs off the warp blast, barreling between them, locking his arms around Jack. He lifts her by the shoulders and sets her on a stack of nearby crates, with all the effort of shelving a book.
"Alright, confess," he demands. "What did you do to Shepard?"
"Me?" Jack spits. "Nothing! Ask the fucking cheerleader!"
Garrus glances back at Miranda, still crackling with biotic energy as Jacob talks her down.
"No," Zaeed says firmly. "I'm asking you. One night, you call Shepard down to your little rabbit hole, you two have a nice long chat, and suddenly she's heading up to the Crew Deck with a pistol and enough fury to melt the goddamn moon. What did you do?"
She opens her mouth again but nothing comes out. Her gaze flickers to Miranda.
"If she hasn't said anything, I won't either," Jack decides, crossing her arms. "It's for Shepard to say. Not me."
"Shepard isn't here," Garrus says.
Jack gives him a confused look.
"I thought you knew," she says. "Fuck, the way you sniff around her, I thought you two were—"
She wiggles her fingers at him.
"You know."
His mandibles twitch, teeth flashing.
"We're not."
Jack shrugs.
"Your loss. Can I go?"
She makes to slide away, but Zaeed kicks the crate.
"Answer the fucking question," he says. "No weaseling."
"Hey, fuck you! I'm not a fucking snitch!"
"Look, we know there's something wrong."
"Her mood's 'bout as subtle as a Maw hammer," Zaeed says, nodding. "It's affecting the mission, and it's gonna get her killed. I put aside a lot of shit for this, and not to watch her implode."
"I'm not saying."
She crosses her arms and meets Zaeed's eyes with determination. They stare at each other, unblinking, long enough for Garrus's fury to snap.
"Whatever you know is directly related to how long I let you live," he growls, and Jack flinches. She covers it with a bark of laughter but meets only steely glares on every side.
"Fuck," she says, deflating. "I'm sorry I told her. I didn't mean—"
She chews on her lip, a habit she might have picked up from Shepard, Garrus thinks. He crosses his arms.
"I'm not going to tell you everything, okay? It's not my place," Jack says. "But I found something. She let me into Cerberus files, and after I found what I wanted, I kept looking."
"For what?"
"I don't know," Jack snaps. "Just looking, okay? There's some fucking fascinating shit in there."
"And what did you find?" Garrus asks, tired of the game.
"What they did to her. What they actually did. Not the sanitized Frankenstein shit Miranda talks about."
She refuses to say anything more, and they release her with threats of violence if she draws anymore attention. The crowd has thinned, disappointed at the anticlimax. Zaeed gives Garrus a nod, ducking the C-Sec detail that approaches.
"Figured I'd give you a chance to handle it," Bailey says, waving his sergeant on.
"Thanks," Garrus says. "I'm sorry about this. It won't happen again."
"I'm sure," Bailey replies evenly. "Shepard around?"
"No. Not really."
Garrus finds Tali by the cabstand. Her back is turned, talking, hands animated, and she shifts a little to the left, revealing her partner: Kaidan. Garrus hangs back, well within Kaidan's line of sight, but staring, refusing to balk. He says something to Tali—her head whips to Garrus and then back, touching Kaidan's arm as he leaves. Garrus is in lockstep, each step closer to Tali seeming to push Kaidan away through the crowd.
"He followed us," she says. "He says he doesn't trust sending a message to Shepard. He thinks Cerberus probably reads them, and I agreed."
"So we're playing courier?"
"He's not ready to reach out just yet, but he wanted us to know that he's around."
"Of course."
Tali ignores his tone.
"Should we go?"
They rent a car this time. Garrus hates playing passenger, so Tali lounges, tracing her fingers across the glass. They have no destination at first, the day's task complete, but eventually Tali makes some noise about a market on Tayseri, so he flips the car around in silence.
"Clearly you want to say something. Just say it, Garrus."
"How can you be so..."
He considers, hands tightening on the controls.
"So familiar, with him? Like nothing happened?"
"Because nothing happened," she says mildly.
"Nothing happened," he repeats, numb. "How can you say that? You were there. You saw exactly—"
"Nothing happened, Garrus!" she snaps. "He was drunk—you were stupid. It was two years ago! Why do you insist on holding on to it?"
Fury returns, his mandibles flaring, and Tali slumps in her seat, turning her body away from him. Every part of that last encounter with Kaidan is so fresh in his mind—he can smell the alcohol, feel the blood on his talons, the crunch of broken glass beneath his boots. The humiliation of being fired, the impotent rage against a system set on murdering Shepard all over again, Kaidan's incomparable cowardice.
"Nothing happened," he mutters. "Tell that to Joker. To Liara."
But Tali is finished with the conversation. She doesn't speak to him when they touch down, vaulting out of the car and across the market. Anyone watching would think he was chasing her, so he doesn't bother, calming himself by wandering the food stalls.
Two years. It's almost surreal. His squad dead for only months, really, instead of the decades he'd felt. Fired from C-Sec little more than a year before that, Shepard alive again for—
He frowns at a stack of vegetables, irritating the seller. He doesn't really know how long she's been back, some selfish part inside assuming she'd risen up especially to help him, to save him from his own mistakes. He'd thought, by her silence, by her caution, that it had been long enough to bury whatever might have haunted her, but he was wrong, of course, assuming his detachment was hers.
His distance was self-imposed—a lone vigilante against the galaxy, free of attachments. If he pretends it was all by choice, it hurt less.
He's lost now, turning circles through unfamiliar fruits and meats. Another marker of his uselessness: he finds a wall and stands against it, watching the crowd, waiting to be found.