More than sixty days on this damned planet, and Garrus was thoroughly sick of how long the repairs were taking. Damage to the hull, the engine core containment systems, and the propulsion systems; the SR-2, unlike its predecessor, wasn't really designed to get in and out of gravity wells with ease. Damage sustained during the crash had knocked out the QEC, to make matters worse, so they had to rely on conventional communications to send a distress signal. They'd thought long and hard about that one—it might attract Reapers or mercs or looters—but at this point Garrus would actually welcome a merc band. He entertained fantasies of shooting them, commandeering their shuttle, taking it into orbit and seizing their ship… and then flying it back to Palaven or Earth…
Not knowing what was happening—in the battle they'd left behind, to his homeworld, his family, to Shepard—was eating him up with worry. And was a distraction he couldn't afford. He worked himself to exhaustion every day, because otherwise his overactive imagination kept him awake.
At least they'd landed on a garden world. There'd even been a settlement here. Unfortunately, they found it overrun with husks and empty of sentient life. They'd grimly stripped the place of anything usable. Food replicators would keep them all alive for quite some time. The Normandy's fabricators could even make replacement parts. The trick was getting enough materials to fabricate what they needed—especially the patches for the hull—and then getting all of the battered ship's systems to work together long enough to break atmo and get back to civilization. No telling how long that would take, either, because they couldn't be sure how the FTL drive would perform until they actually got into space to test it.
Tali's voice came crackling over his comm. "Garrus?"
"Yeah," he said, pausing from his task of trying to coax more power out of the kinetic barrier generator (which would save them the effort of repairing some of the hull damage, if they could get it going).
"We're going to have to divert more power from the Thanix to engine containment. I'm sorry, I just don't see another way."
Garrus bit back a curse. When they had no idea what they were coming back to, he really didn't like the idea of downgrading the weapons systems. He liked the idea of frying the entire engineering staff less, though. "Fine, do it."
Once the dust from the crash landing had settled, Garrus had simply taken charge. It was still a little astounding to him that not one of the human crew had said anything at all to question the authority he'd claimed for himself, even though he was not remotely part of the actual chain of command. Chakwas and Adams both backed him, which helped, but he was the one making final decisions. Both of the older humans had their hands full anyway. They'd been extremely lucky to have no fatalities, but Chakwas still had an infirmary full of patients with concussions, burns, and broken bones, and Adams had primary responsibility for overseeing the repairs. Garrus was handling everything else: scouting, defense, work schedules, rationing, supplies... Not alone, certainly. Everyone pitched in, and Liara, with her data feeds offline, had been particularly helpful on the administrative end, but everyone looked to him in the end. It was, he supposed, a mark of their respect for both him and Shepard, but it was a little unnerving.
A couple more hours of work, and Garrus was finally ready for a break and a meal. He was reviewing the next day's repair priority list and work schedule when his comm activated again.
It was Joker. "Hey Garrus, we've got an incoming transmission."
He reached for his rifle. "Who is it?"
EDI cut in. "It is a geth signal."
Garrus paused. "Friendly geth? EDI, any sign they're under Reaper control?"
After a moment, the AI said, "Negative."
"Okay. EDI, be prepared to deploy countermeasures to AI hacking. Joker, put it through."
The calm, synthetic voice sounded like Legion, although he knew it wasn't. Probably all the geth sounded more or less the same. "Normandy collective, greetings. Can we render assistance?"
After that, it was amazing how fast the repairs went. The geth had the materials they needed, plus would work around the clock. Garrus held his breath when they lifted off, but the patched hull held, and they were on their way back to civilization. They headed for the Citadel, once again the hub of galactic civilization (even if the structure's recent role in the war made people a little nervous about that). With Arcturus Station destroyed, it was also where they'd find most of the current Alliance command.
The geth had also answered the storm of anxious queries from the Normandy's crew, as politely and patiently as only an AI could manage: Yes, the war was over, the Reapers were gone, the rebuilding had begun.
And Shepard was alive.
The Normandy limped into port for a proper refitting, arriving late in the Citadel's day cycle. The docks looked surprisingly unchanged, though the considerable number of Keepers roaming around suggested that the area had been recently crew split up. Alliance officers met them at the docks to see to the human crew; Tali needed to find the other quarian admirals who were on-station, and Liara wanted to try to re-establish some contacts. EDI's mobile unit accompanied the asari, since the AI had taken an interest in her work. It was odd separating from everyone after the stress of the war and the long days of being marooned together, and they promised to reunite the next day.
It was not Shepard, however, but Solana who met Garrus at the docks, pulling him into a fierce embrace.
"Sol! You're all right?"
"Never doubt it," she said. "You?"
"Fine. How's Dad?"
"Not really enjoying being Primarch, but fine aside from that."
Garrus blinked. "Dad's Primarch?"
Solana filled him in on her and their father's doings over the last few months. Eventually he found an opportunity to slip in, "Do you, ah, know where Shepard is, by any chance?" He'd never actually told Solana about his relationship with Shepard. The time had just never seemed right, and the longer he was on Palaven, with her incarcerated, the more he'd wondered if she'd still feel the same.
Something shifted in Sol's face. "Your Commander? I believe she's debriefing with the Alliance."
"Damn," he muttered, and added hastily, "I just wanted to check in with her."
"Very dutiful of you," said Solana dryly. "She paid us a visit, you know."
"Oh… really?" He hesitated, wondering what Shepard might have said to his sister.
"Really. Seems like she's been locked down with the Alliance for a few days, though. Hard to say when she'll be done debriefing with them."
"Oh," he said, deflated.
Sol tapped him on the shoulder. "You look exhausted, you know, and it's late. Why don't you go get some rest, and we'll catch up in the morning? Dad's been tied up in meetings all day, but I know he wants to see you."
"I could use some rest," he admitted. "As long as you don't mind…"
"Nah. And hey, being Primarch has some perks to go with the crushing responsibilities. We found you a hotel room." She sent the location and passcode to his omni-tool.
"Thanks, Sol." He gave her another hug. "See you tomorrow, then."
Garrus sent Shepard a message anyway, on his way to the hotel. He found his room easily, dropped his bag, changed out of his armor, and wondered what to do with himself. He was tired, yes, but also a little buzzed, with a little too much nervous energy. Maybe he should call Sol back after all, or see if Liara or Tali was free…
The door behind him opened. He turned, startled, expecting someone from housekeeping, maybe, but…
"Shepard," he said, stunned.
Shepard had let herself recuperate for a few more days after getting the geth message, under Miranda's stern eye. Solana stopped by often to talk, and Shepard was really beginning to think of the turian woman as a friend. It was feeling a lot more natural to hear Solana call her 'Jane.' With her cybernetic implants repaired, Shepard's strength and endurance came back little by little, and when she found herself fidgeting and restless, she decided the time had come, and put a call through to Alliance Command. It was just about as bad as she expected. She was immediately swept up in a whirl of questions, although they kept the press away, and there was a certain amount of irritation visible among the Alliance commanders when she admitted where she'd been for the last two months. She was able to smooth over the diplomatic repercussions, though. She'd spent the days since in debriefings and staff meetings, getting questioned about the Crucible and the Catalyst, in spite of her inability to clearly remember what had actually happened. The admirals also, inexplicably, kept wanting her opinion on high-level decision-making. She was wondering if she could possibly escape the political role they clearly had in mind for her when her omni-tool buzzed, her urgent message incoming warning.
She checked it surreptitiously under the table. It was from Solana, it was brief, and it set her heart pounding:
Normandy checked in. All crew accounted for.
She got the second message as the session wrapped up for the day.
He's fine. Didn't tell him you were coming. And the number of a hotel room.
She pushed her still-healing legs as fast as they'd go, got a quick flurry of messages from Tali and Liara and Joker and James on the way. She sent replies from the rapid transit car, promising to meet everyone for drinks the next day.
Tonight she had a different reunion in mind. Solana had sent her the passcode for the hotel room, so she used it instead of knocking. Garrus turned, said her name, and simply stared at her, as if she were an apparition. He looked a little drawn and worn out himself.
"Oh, Garrus," she said, and then her arms were around him and his around her and she rested her head on his warm, solid shoulder.
"Sol said you were tied up with the Alliance," he said after a moment.
Shepard snorted. "She would." She pulled back and looked at him sternly. "You're thinner."
"Just trying to make supplies last," he said, a little embarrassed. The truth was, he'd often been too worried to muster up much appetite. He looked her over carefully. "You're really all right?" She looked paler than usual, but he couldn't see any visible marks.
She smiled. "Cybernetics still doing their job." Her smile faded a little. "Actually, I was in a coma for a couple of months. Miranda had to replace a bunch of my implants." He couldn't quite hide his reaction to that, and she added quickly, "I'm doing fine now. Getting better."
He pulled her close, both desperate and relieved. He hadn't really let himself think it, but he hadn't been sure he'd ever see her again. It was unspeakably good to feel her form against him. He inhaled her scent, reassuringly familiar and uniquely her, and nuzzled the side of his face against hers, running his fingers through her hair.
"Not so fast," said Shepard, pushing on his shoulder. Garrus blinked and backed off. Shepard stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. Garrus looked at her, puzzled, wondering what was wrong.
"So," she said. "I understand there was a certain question you were going to ask me."
Garrus stared at Shepard. For a moment he couldn't think what she might be referring to at all, and then a certain awful awareness crept up on him. But Sol hadn't said anything... had Shepard really talked to his father? And had his father really told her...? "How did you know?" he blurted.
Shepard leaned her weight back on one foot. "Your father said he's been treating me as a daughter. Or daughter-in-law, I guess. Part of the family, anyway. He tracked me down while I was still in a coma and took me into... protective custody, of a sort. He and your sister took good care of me."
"Oh," said Garrus. "That's... good. I didn't expect him to do that." He really must be tired; he knew she wanted an explanation, and somehow his brain just couldn't come up with a satisfactory one. He hadn't been prepared to deal with this question right now.
Her gaze was challenging. "I just... Garrus, why would you ask your father if you could get married and then not ask me? Help me understand here."
He sank down on the bed and lowered his head into his hands. "I don't know. I thought about it for a long time—I'd been thinking about it, even before I saw you again on Menae—and it never seemed like the right time. You were... you had so much pressure on you. I wanted to help, not put more pressure on you. Especially after Thessia fell, and we were tracking Leng, I knew you were having a hard time with... everything."
She moved toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. "But you talked to your father. Right before we went to Earth, he said. And you still didn't say anything to me?"
He looked up. Her eyes were extra bright, and something wet rolled down her cheek. Oh, Spirits, she was crying. She almost never cried, and now she was crying over this, so it was clearly his fault. A rising sense of panic forced words out of his mouth. "You were so focused on the mission. I almost asked you, in London, and I... I didn't want to distract you. And... I was afraid you'd say yes just... because you thought we didn't have a future."
Shepard blinked. "You didn't think I might want to think about having a future? With you?"
He looked at her hard. "Could you really think about anything except the mission right in front of you?"
Shepard looked away. He had a point. Those frantic weeks of the war, running from one crisis to the next, she'd been almost totally occupied with planning and diplomacy. She'd taken just enough down time to keep from cracking up entirely. Looking back, she could see how carefully the crew had been supporting her, especially Garrus, who'd gently reminded her to sleep and eat and taken care of routine details so she didn't have to, on top of his other responsibilities. She'd accepted that support without fully returning it, except when it was beyond obvious that someone needed her, and so she'd never realized that he'd been wrestling with this decision. "We could have a future now," she suggested. "If you still want to ask me."
Her voice was shaking a little. Garrus wasn't quite sure what that meant. "I always meant to explain, first. I don't know that much about human marriage customs. People do form pairs without formally joining the clan. It's harder to dissolve a formal marriage, and it confers certain responsibilities as a member of the clan..."
She put both her hands on his shoulders, leaned over so she could rest her forehead against his. Almost automatically, his hands rose to grasp her hips. "Garrus, if doing this formally matters to you, ask me."
He swallowed. Took a breath. "Jane Shepard, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife and joining my clan?"
"Yes," she said and pressed her lips against his mouth.
He fell back onto the bed and pulled her with him, her softer body sprawled over his, and she only left off lavishing his face and throat with kisses long enough to say, "Did you really think I'd say no?"
Garrus was rapidly losing coherent thought, between her mouth and her fingers under his fringe and her hips pressing against him, but he managed to get out, "Just... couldn't be sure." His hands worked their way under her jacket and shirt, stroking up and down her back.
"Mmm," Shepard hummed appreciatively. "Yes. You and me. Together. Always. Yes." She sat up enough to discard jacket, shirt, and bra, before he pulled her down again, and they left off talking entirely for a while.
Eventually, twined in his arms, Shepard said, "I woke up and you were missing and I was so worried."
Garrus chuckled. "I got marooned and had no idea if you were alive or what was even happening."
"You win," she concluded.
"You agreed to marry me. I definitely win."
"I'm thinking we both win."
He rumbled agreement and combed his fingers through her hair.
"Hey," said Shepard a little later. "We can do some human marriage customs, right?"
"Sure. What did you have in mind?"
"Well, when a man and a woman agree to get married, usually she gets a ring."
"Oh yeah. I did read about that one. I don't... well, I don't actually have a ring for you, but..."
"But what?" Shepard propped herself up on an elbow and arched an eyebrow.
"I have the stone." Reluctantly, Garrus disentangled himself and got up to search through his bag for the little box. "I just hope you like it." He found the box and presented it to her. "I wasn't sure what size it should be, and this way you can pick a setting you like... say something, Jane."
Inside the box, cushioned on layers of velvet, was what Shepard was pretty sure was a diamond, dark blue. "It's beautiful," she said, looking up with wide eyes. "So beautiful. I wasn't expecting... I thought blue diamonds were rare?"
Garrus relaxed at her expression. "They're not that rare on Palaven. This one's been in the family for a while."
She smiled. "Clan color, right?"
"Yeah," he said, relieved that she understood.
She closed the box and pulled him down and into a kiss. "Thank you. It's perfect. Tomorrow you can start telling me about this wedding we're going to have."
"Wedding and clan-joining," he corrected. "Not tonight?"
"I've got other plans for you tonight."
Author's Note: There's a sequel to this story on the way. Titled A Family Occasion, it includes lots of fluff, a whole bunch of Vakarians, and... just possibly... a wedding.
And, for good measure, here's the prompt that inspired this story. Thanks to the prompter and all who have reviewed and followed this story!
All turians have to serve in the military and even after they muster out, they maintain the home guards and militia, right? So it would follow that there aren't so many turian refugees. They're all serving on the fleet however they can.
That means Garrus's father and sister were involved in the final attack on the Reapers.
I want to see a fic where they survived and one of the last things Garrus did before going off to London was ask his father's permission to bring a wife into the clan (*cough*Femshep!*cough*). Surprisingly, his dad gave it.
So, when things quiet down Vakarian senior goes looking for at least one of his missing children. He knows Garrus was on the Normandy when it left the system, but there's no word on where Shepard might be. Being the badass detective that he is, Vakarian sr. finds her.
Maybe Anderson didn't die after all and he hauled her unconscious ass back to the beam and caught a ride down to London. (He could have had a medical interface installed into his flak jacket that patched him up while he was unconscious, I dunno.) Maybe they both got dragged into a makeshift field hospital and no one recognized Shepard. Something.
Anyway, turian sense of honor means that when Vakarian sr. gave his son permission to marry Shepard, she became part of the clan and as such is under his protection.
Bonus points for:
+Vakarian sr. ends up as Primarch when Victus cheerfully throws him under the bus of succession and abdicates.
+ Solana and Shepard end up becoming pretty good friends
+ double bonus points if Vakarian sr. sort of grudgingly respects Shepard. There's a difference between being a lawbreaker and trying to save a galaxy full of people who absolutely positively don't want to beleive anything is wrong.
+ the Alliance can't figure out where Shepard is being kept
+ Miranda shows up on the Vakarians' doorstep and takes over Shepard's rehabilitation like its no big deal
+ Garrus makes it back, tired and worried because Shepard is still MIA and Solana doesn't tell him right away, just tells him where his room is and lets him stumble in on Shepard while she's taking a nap or something. (Triple bonus points if she does it specifically in revenge for him not telling her about Archangel, Omega, and the Collectors thing.)