Grief

There was an old saying, "speak of the devil and he will appear." Given Shepard's conversation with Garrus from a few days ago, she couldn't help but think that it was strangely appropriate to her situation. Another nightmare had chased her from her quarters to the crew deck, this time of Elysium. The scar that should have crossed her nose and cheek—the one she'd earned from a batarian bayonet, and one of the many Cerberus had decided to erase from her body when they resurrected her—burned as she leaned against the wall of the elevator. Tired as she was, she didn't close her eyes as the elevator descended. The dream was still fresh enough that she knew she'd see the faces of the dead behind her eyelids. Shepard suppressed a shudder as the elevator opened, the smell of smoke sharp in her nostrils and phantom pain from long-healed injuries burning her.

At this hour ('zero-dark-early,' Jenkins had been fond of calling it), the crew deck was deserted. Day shift was bunked down for the night, while night shift was busy in the CIC and engineering. Only Mordin was likely to be up at this hour, on account of the salarian needing so little sleep. According to him, he was embarrassed that he had to make such a concession to old age as to sleep for an hour and a half to two hours each night. It was a 'problem' Shepard could only shake her head at. There was also a chance Garrus might be up, chased from his bunk by his own demons. They'd run into each other a few times since that first night. Shepard seemed to have the advantage over him in the realm of dreams: he was always chased out of bed by Omega, whereas she could be chased out of bed for any number of reasons and not merely the destruction of the SR-1. She wasn't sure she could take having the same nightmare over and over and stay sane, and she found herself wondering how Garrus was holding it all together. Admittedly, she knew fuck all about psychology—let alone xenopsychology—but Garrus' reactions could be so…well…human.

Stifling a yawn, Shepard keyed the holopanel on the door to the lounge and stepped inside. The lights were down low but not off, consistent with normal night-cycle illumination, and things appeared empty at first glance. She turned to the bar and saw Garrus seated with his back to her, leaning over the countertop. From her angle, Shepard couldn't tell what he was drinking. She stopped short; the two had not commiserated over alcohol since the mess she'd made of Garrus' hunt for justice for his squad. He didn't seem to have noticed her arrival, either.

"Rough night for you too, huh Garrus?" she asked. "Mind if I join you?"

The turian turned towards her, his movements more awkward than she could ever recall seeing before. Shepard had never seen a smashed turian before, but somehow she knew Garrus was smashed—or near enough to make no difference. "Shepard," he slurred, mandibles drooping away from his mouth oddly. "Sure, c'mon, haff a shit…I mean…sit…I mean…seat. Fuck…" He shook his head as though trying to clear it and huffed a laugh.

Shepard made her way over to the bar and planted herself in the stool next to Garrus, forgoing the usual search through the cabinet for something to drink. She had never seen Garrus drunk like this and she was worried. "Going at it pretty hard, I see," she said, gesturing at the bottle. It looked to be half-gone, and she wondered how long Garrus had been in here.

The turian nodded. "Yeah. I was…I was…drinking t' my squad, see. Since…well…none of them are here, I had to…to drink for them. But it'd be rude to toast them and not drink, so…well…nothing for it but to drink with them, too, right? So I'd drink for Butler, and Butler would drink for me," he said, trying to explain, taking pulls from the bottle—he'd apparently skipped glasses and gone straight for the very green bottle of liquor under the counter—at appropriate moments. "I'd go through every one of my guys—well, except Sidonis, 'cause fuck him, right? Take a drink for them, then take a drink with them. It was a nice cycle, but then that clumsy krogan bastard Krul broke his glass. …or was it my glass? Ah, fuck, not like it matters, right?" He looked at her, blinking suddenly, as though he'd just noticed her presence. "You don't have…you should have…join me, drink to my squad, Shepard," he spluttered, then extended the bottle to her. He jerked it back an instant later, chuckling drunkenly. "Dextro-booze is bad for humans, sorry, sorry…here, lemme get something from the bar for you—"

As he tried to rise, Shepard moved with him and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Garrus, sit down before you fall down," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "You're drunk."

Garrus' mandibles opened wide in shock and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. Shepard couldn't be sure, but it seemed the turian was scandalized by her accusation. "Well…well…oh fuck yes, I am drunk!" he finally spluttered, then broke out in a fit of drunken turian laughter. The fit took so much out of him that by the end of it he was leaning on the bar with his elbows to keep himself propped up. "I figured…I figured…well, fuck, it worked for the vagrants we hauled in when I was a C-Sec rookie, so it should work for me, too..."

"Garrus…?"

He leaned over towards her, wobbling a bit before regaining his balance on the bar stool, and Shepard found herself leaning over to meet him. The pungent vapors of turian alcohol at this range stung her nose and eyes. "Lemme ask you a question, Shepard," he slurred. "How much more do you think I'll have to drink to forget? I keep looking at the bar and seeing myself. I don't wanna see me right now, Shepard. I close my eyes to not see myself, and…" His voice broke. She'd never heard any turian sound the way Garrus sounded now, the flanging effect of his voice suddenly discordant and lacking the usual melodic undertones it added to his words. Somehow, she knew that if Garrus were human, right now he'd be on the verge of tears. "All I see's…them," he choked, voice barely above a whisper. "Every last one of their faces…screaming…bleeding…dying. I don't want to see them anymore, Shepard!"

With that, the last support in the dam holding back Garrus' emotions shattered. He slumped forward onto the bar, clutching his forehead with one hand and the bottle in the other. Shepard had never seen a turian cry, and she didn't see Garrus crying now. No tear ducts, apparently, as his face remained dry. His shoulders didn't shake as sobs wracked his frame. No, Garrus gave voice to his misery with a keening, wordless lament that cut through her to the core. The souls of the damned had nothing on a grief-stricken, guilt-wracked turian.

Shepard sat frozen for an instant, uncertain whether she should do what instinct was telling her to do. To hell with it. Were Garrus human, she'd have thrown an arm over his shoulders and embraced him, and that is in fact what her first instinct was. However, that humped back of his made such an act impossible for her. Shepard checked her arm, then lowered it to embrace him at the waist, holding him close. With her free hand, she gently pried the bottle away from his numbed fingers and took his hand in hers. If Garrus was shocked or appalled by her sudden proximity or her embrace, he gave no sign of it. She took it to mean either he was too drunk to care, or that turians had similar reactions to hearing someone in such great distress. Shepard said nothing, knowing that this was not the time for empty platitudes or reassurances. Garrus needed someone to lean on, and she could do that for him.

Eventually, much to Shepard's relief, Garrus quieted, though this turned out to be a mixed blessing, as the turian had passed out in her arms. "Hey, Garrus, wake up," she hissed. No reaction. She tried to jostle him awake, but he slept on. She looked at the bottle again, heaving a frustrated sigh at the sight of how low it was. Given what he'd consumed, the turian was probably not going to be waking any time soon. Carefully, she let go her hold on Garrus and leaned him onto the bar to snooze for a few moments, considering her options. She was not going to leave him perched on that bar stool, so she had three choices: cart him over to the med bay and see if Mordin was up and about yet, deposit him on a couch here and keep watch herself, or lug him back to his bunk and hope he didn't have any side effects worse than the standard hangover—whatever a turian hangover might be.

She didn't know if choking on one's own vomit was even possible for passed out, drunken, turians—or if they even possessed the capacity to vomit. Right, not lugging him to his bunk without knowing if he'll wake up again in the morning… That left keeping watch over him herself, or calling an expert. Cerberus upgrades or no, Shepard knew she couldn't keep herself awake the entire night and was afraid that if she nodded off, it would be at just the wrong moment. She also wasn't sure she could manhandle Garrus without someone's help. Dr. Chakwas would be asleep at this hour and Shepard would feel guilty for summoning her from bed for something like this—not to mention, she was not the sort of person well-suited to manhandling patients anymore. That left Mordin, and the salarian might actually be awake at this hour given his bizarre sleeping habits.

"EDI, is Mordin in his lab?"

"Yes, Shepard," EDI answered, her pawn-shaped avatar springing to life by the lounge door. "Professor Solus is continuing his analysis of seeker swarm telemetry data from Horizon in an effort to improve the effectiveness of his countermeasures. Shall I contact him for you?"

"No thanks, EDI," Shepard answered with a shake of her head. "Lock the lounge door until Mordin or myself tell you otherwise, please."

"Very well, Shepard," she replied, the holopanel on the door glowing red. "Logging you out."

As EDI's avatar winked back out, Shepard triggered her omni-tool, activating its vidcomm feature. "Mordin, sorry to interrupt, but I could use your help down here in the lounge."

"Shepard. Surprised to see you awake at this hour. Later than I thought?"

She shook her head, grinning a little. "No, it's early enough that the only people up are night crew and yourself," she replied. "Short version: I came down for a nightcap and found Garrus in here and going at it hard," she began, shifting the omni-tool so that the vidscreen showed Mordin the unconscious turian's back. "He's out like a light and I could use some help getting him over to the med bay."

Mordin closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose, then shook his head. "Thought Vakarian knew his limits. Behavior unexpected. Will be down momentarily, Shepard." The vidcomm winked out.

Yeah, so did I… she thought as she closed down her omni-tool. Carefully, she prodded Garrus' shoulder and tried to wake him up, wanting to spare him the indignity of being slung between herself and Mordin and hauled to the med bay like a sack of grain. The turian, however, was dead to the world. "Damn it, Garrus…" she sighed. Moving in behind him, she wrapped her arms around his torso under his own and lifted him free of the bar stool. It toppled to the floor with a bang as she lugged the unconscious turian over to the couch and carefully laid him down on it, trying to be careful of his fringe and the spurs on the backs of his calves. She'd never seen that fringe of his flex and didn't want to injure it; same for those spurs. Laid out like this, it would be easier for the Mordin to help her get him to the med bay.

Cerberus upgrades or no, Shepard was glad to hear the door open and see Mordin step through; Garrus was heavier than he looked, and he'd never seemed terribly dainty to Shepard. He was down the steps and next to the couch in an instant, omni-tool active as he took a few brief scans of Garrus. "Vital signs consistent with alcohol-induced sleep. Probably not poisoned, but always better to be cautious," he declared, moving towards Garrus' torso. "Shepard, grab legs at knees, be careful of spurs. More fragile than they appear."

Nodding, she did as Mordin directed and the two heaved Garrus off the couch on a three-count. The trip to the med bay was mercifully free of any interruptions by Cerberus crew, and Shepard had EDI activate the med bay's privacy screens the moment they were in. As an afterthought, she made sure to end the lockdown she'd put on the lounge door as well, only to discover that EDI had taken the initiative and done it herself. They deposited Garrus on one of the beds, with Shepard propping up Garrus' head while Mordin secured some extra pillows to put into the gap between the back of his neck and fringe. "Hangover headache will be bad enough, no need to add insult to injury with sore neck," he'd said.

She draped one of the hospital blankets over him, feeling distinctly ridiculous at the notion of tucking her friend in like this and simultaneously resolving to never bring it up. It would have been funny, save for the reason he was in this state at all. While she did that, Mordin took a few more scans with his omni-tool.

"Sorry to pull you away from your work, Mordin," Shepard said. "Xenobiology isn't my strong suit, and I know alcohol poisoning can be fatal to humans…better safe than sorry, right?"

"Concerns understandable, Shepard," replied the salarian. He turned to face her. "Alcohol a common sleep aid for all species, but self-medication…problematic," he continued, scrutinizing her, apparently waiting for her to respond.

Shepard rolled her eyes just a little and sighed. "If you've got something to say, Mordin, go ahead and say it."

"Not psychologist, not qualified to speak on mental health issues," he began, raising a placating hand. It seemed to Shepard that he was offering a disclaimer—his permission to take his opinion with a grain of salt. "However, aware that both yourself and Garrus have…self-medicated…several times." Mordin inhaled sharply through his nose before continuing. "Given recent traumas, actions understandable. However," Mordin paused and gestured at Garrus. "Such treatment modalities hazardous without supervision." The salarian inhaled sharply again. "Cannot treat underlying causes, but can help manage physical symptoms. Can offer less…side-effect rich…sleep aids, if desired."

"…wait, how the hell did you know we'd been hitting the bottle?" Shepard asked, concerned about how Mordin even knew that she and Garrus both had taken to drinking down their nightmares. She had felt secure in the knowledge that it was their dark secret that nobody else knew.

"I felt it prudent to alert Dr. Chakwas and Professor Solus to this development, Commander," stated EDI, her avatar springing to life from the podium near the door to med bay.

Shepard whirled on the AI, suddenly terrified at the thought of the Illusive Man knowing about the bad nights and the dreams that chased the two of them from their beds at times. "I suppose now your boss with the freaky eyes knows, too, now. Why the hell—"

For a change, EDI cut Shepard off. "I do possess some degree of operational autonomy, Commander," she interrupted. "Until such time as your or Officer Vakarian's condition serves to impair the Normandy's mission, the Illusive Man does not need to know about your late-night visits to the port side lounge." With that, she winked back out.

Great, I've got an AI covering for me… It was a less than ideal situation all around, but there was nothing to be done about it. With a sigh, Shepard ran a hand through her hair. At least nobody was demanding she speak to a shrink. "Sure, Mordin…hit me with a tranq. Might as well get some sleep tonight…"

The corners of Mordin's mouth twitched up in a brief smile. "Of course Shepard. But here, in med bay?"

She nodded. "I'll probably be up before Garrus; I can try and fool him into thinking we both had too much to drink when he comes around. Whether he believes me or not…well…I want to talk to him anyway."

Mordin seemed to consider her plan before shrugging and nodding. "As you wish, Shepard. Lie down."

Shepard took a seat on the empty bed next to the one they'd laid Garrus out in, stretching out and stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. Mordin was hovering over her an instant later, flicking a syringe. "Sleep well, Shepard," he said. She felt the needle prick the inside of her elbow. It wasn't much longer before she wasn't feeling anything at all.

Shepard woke to find that day shift had started, the med bay's lights up to their normal level of illumination and Dr. Chakwas at her desk as usual. Garrus was asleep and…snoring? Unlike human snoring, his was actually somehow pleasant, influenced by whatever structures in the turian throat added that distinctive flanging effect to their voices. Listening to him snore, it sounded almost melodic somehow.

"Commander. I understand you and Mr. Vakarian had a bit of a rough night," said Chakwas, rising from her seat.

Shepard shook her head. "No, just Garrus," she replied. "But once he comes to, as far as you are concerned, we both got shitfaced last night, okay? I'm fine because…Cerberus. Upgrades heal me quicker, I figure they'd help me get over a hangover faster too."

"No wonder I couldn't match you when we shared that bottle of Serrice ice brandy," the doctor replied, smirking. "I should have guessed your modifications gave you an unfair advantage in a drinking contest." Her tone and expression turned serious. "May I inquire why you are so adamant that I assist you in establishing the fiction that Garrus was not the only one incapacitated by excess drink?"

Shepard sighed. "If he remembers last night, then he'll remember I saw him in a place he probably wished nobody had ever seen him enter, doctor," she replied. "I'd rather let him believe I don't remember last night; God knows I'd never want a friend to remember seeing me in the state he was in last night, let alone a C.O."

"I suppose I can appreciate that sentiment," Chakwas replied. "But what if he doesn't fall for it? He was a C-Sec detective for years, you know."

Shepard sighed and shrugged. "There you go again, disrupting my ideas with logic…" she replied. "If he doesn't buy it..." She shrugged again. "I wanted to talk to him anyway. Seeing him like that…well, it worries me." She sighed and looked at Chakwas.

"You seem to be waiting on me to say something, Commander."

"It's more that I'm wondering why you haven't rapped my knuckles since EDI tattled on me."

Chakwas smiled just a little. "Commander, I have learned that—with you in particular—pushing is of little help. I trusted that you would speak with me in due time and only if you felt it was necessary. I suspected I would have similar luck with Garrus and have not spoken with him, either," she explained. "So…now that you know your secret is out, will you accept my help? If only for a good night's sleep?"

"I may just have to take you up on that offer, doctor," Shepared replied. "Thank you."

"Thanks are hardly necessary; it's part of my job," Doctor Chakwas countered, smiling. She was about to continue but paused and pointed at Garrus. "It would appear that our turian friend is waking up. EDI, please dim the lights to three-quarters full illumination." EDI's response was simply dimming the lights a little; such a simple command didn't warrant voice acknowledgement. "I'll take care of your prescription, Commander."

Shepard had to admire the doctor's ability to make a discrete exit without looking like she was deliberately giving the two of them as much privacy as the med bay allowed. "Welcome back to the land of the conscious, Garrus," she said softly. She was unsure what turian hangovers were like but thought it best to keep her voice down, just in case.

Garrus' response was an odd, warbling moan. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the lights, even though Dr. Chakwas had asked EDI to dim them. "…Shepard?" he groaned, sounding hoarse. She offered him some water, which he was all too happy to gulp down. "…fuck…by the pounding I feel everywhere, I'm guessing I overdid it last night…" He let out another moan, blinking a few times to try and get his eyes used to the light. The turian looked at her as though seeing her for the first time, mandibles slightly askew and eyes trying to focus on her. "You don't look too bad, considering…" He paused. "…wait…you didn't have anything to drink, did you? And I had…oh…fuck…"

Well, so much for that idea… "Considering what you consumed, Garrus, I'm surprised you remember that much of last night…" Shepard replied, offering him some more water. "Most humans with that much booze in them tend to kill enough brain cells to erase parts of the evening." She smirked. "Or all of it, if the conditions are right…"

"Sounds like you've had some personal experience with that, Shepard," Garrus said between sips. "Ever make a complete ass of yourself in front of your commanding officer before?"

Shepard frowned at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, that's not what happened last night, Garrus."

"I'm pretty sure you're remembering it all wrong, Shepard—"

She cut him off; the last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty for his grief. "No, I'm remembering a grief-stricken friend drowning his sorrows in drink in the hopes of being able to sleep." The commander sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger before continuing. "Jesus Christ almighty, Garrus, maybe it's humiliating for turians to crack like that in front of someone they respect, but we are friends, are we not? I don't know how grief works for your people, Garrus, but among humans, friends try and shoulder the burden," she said, her tone of voice harsher than she had wanted it to be.

The turian gulped down the last of his water and lay back onto the bed. The silence stretched between them for several moments as Garrus appeared to try and find something to say. "I'm sorry, Shepard," he said at last, closing his eyes. "I thought…I thought taking Sidonis down would fix everything…" He paused, searching for words again. "But…"

"But you've been running on hate since I found you in your hideout on Omega, haven't you?" she asked quietly. "And now that the hate is gone, everything else you would have felt after such a loss has come boiling back to the surface."

Garrus nodded once, the motion ever so subtle. "Since when did you get so insightful, Shepard?" he asked, mandibles flicking open in a half-hearted turian grin.

"There's this wiseass former C-Sec detective I'm acquainted with." A faint smirk crossed her lips. "I know a thing or two about grief and how to dodge it, Garrus," she replied. "And I also know you can't dodge it forever."

"A fact I was reminded of again last night, Shepard," the turian murmured in agreement.

Shepard patted Garrus' shoulder, smiling faintly. "Garrus, I know you don't want to abandon the mission…but I also know how grief can fuck with a person's head. You say the word and I'll have Joker set course for the nearest turian colony, or the Citadel, and you're free from whatever obligation you feel you owe me."

His eyes flew open, mandibles fluttering against the sides of his face, and Shepard guessed she had said exactly the wrong thing. "Shepard, what the fuck are you saying? You want me to leave? Do you think I'm not fit for duty or something?" He sounded both angry and horrified.

"I don't want to lose you, Garrus," she replied. "I don't want you to leave, but I don't want you getting yourself killed on this little crusade of mine because your head isn't in the game." Sighing, Shepard ran a hand through her hair. "Garrus, I know you're torn up inside over what happened, and I know that stitching all the pieces back together takes time—time we don't have while the Collectors are dancing around the Terminus Systems abducting entire colonies. Do you follow me?"

The sound he made had to be the turian equivalent of a snort. "Look who's talking, Shepard. Last I looked…well…" he left the rest of his sentence hanging, unspoken, in the air between them.

"You have the advantage of not being Commander fucking Shepard, savior of the Citadel, first human Spectre, blah blah blah fucking blah," Shepard replied, grimacing. "I can't walk away from this."

"Then I guess I can't either, Shepard," he said, turning towards her and locking his eyes with hers. "You're the only reason I'm here to grieve my squad, Shepard—the only reason they and their families got some measure of the justice the galaxy owed them. Come hell, or Collectors, or Reapers, or whatever else the galaxy will throw at you, I'm with you, Shepard," he said, the quiet fierceness in his voice manifesting in the hardness of his eyes and the subharmonic tones of his voice.

Smiling, Shepard patted his shoulder again. "I know that, Garrus," she replied. "That means…shit that means a lot. I just wanted to make sure, give you an out if you wanted it," she said. "But…"

"…No more passing out drunk at the bar in the lounge?" Garrus offered as the pause stretched to awkward silence.

"Among other things," she said with a smirk. "Courtesy of our Cerberus AI, Mordin and Chakwas know about our fondness for drinking the nightmares away," Shepard explained, her expression and tone sobering.

"Shit."

"My thoughts exactly," Shepard agreed with a nod of her head. "Good news is, EDI claims she hasn't passed this along to the Illusive Man…yet. She will if it starts to interfere with the mission."

"So I shouldn't do what I did last night regularly?" Garrus asked, mandibles spreading in a grin. "Having been reminded of just how spirits-awful a hangover after a night like that is…"

"Garrus, Mordin and Chakwas have offered to help," she replied. "Sleeping pills. It's band-aid over a much larger problem, but at least they should keep the nightmares at bay."

"…so swallow my pride and do as the doctors order?"

"You and me both, Garrus."

The turian rolled over onto his back once more and nodded. "I can do that, Shepard."

She smiled again. "Good. And you can do one more thing for me: you're relieved of duty for the next couple days. Take it easy, sleep off the hangover—or whatever it is you turians do."

Garrus turned back towards her, looking like he was going to protest, but checked himself at the last minute. "Okay, Shepard," he said with a sigh, sounding defeated. "I don't like it, but I'll do it."

"The forward batteries will still be there waiting, Garrus."

"You won't let anyone mess with my calibration algorithms, right?"

Author's Note: Again with the long wait in between updates. Sorry folks. Hopefully the length kind of makes up for things. I also realized I've broken my pattern of alternating chapters between Garrus' and Shepard's P.O.V.'s with this chapter and the last one, but oh well. These both needed to be from Shepard's point of view. Garrus will serve as our window into the "Mass Effect" universe next chapter, promise. :)

Garrus and Shepard are both badasses of the first order, but I find it hard to believe that they are immune to the effects their bloody and violent pasts tend to have on other people who experience such things. I also have hopefully not approached what I know to be a sensitive topic in a flippant or dismissive manner. Treatment takes time, time the games do not let either of them have-except maybe Shepard during her six-month stint under house arrest between "Mass Effect 2" and "Mass Effect 3", and even then I doubt that's anywhere near enough time to make headway with the problem.

As ever, thank you for reading and even more so thank you for reviewing. :) Next chapter should be a little lighter in tone and content, I hope.