Pt. 2 – Might Have Heard You
(Three Weeks Later)
Sub-Lieutenant Lina Shepard checked the power cells on her environment suit- they had been getting dangerously low in the last few days. How long could she last without it before she froze to death? A day? A few hours more like it. If she tried to stay awake, hypothermia would set in, but if she let herself sleep...
She shook her head. Death was something she tried to push from her mind. She had some rations still, even though they were gross and undercooked. Her partially frozen canteen sat in the sad-looking embers from the small fire she'd managed to start. It was a pathetic excuse for a fire really. She frowned.
Why the fuck hadn't they taught her this shit in basic? She didn't have any fucking boy scouts training on Earth!
She picked up the canteen and shook it, listening for the telltale sloshing of unfrozen liquid.
Ahh, success, she thought as she unscrewed the top, lifting it in the direction of Midshipman Peary in a toast. It had been his idea to pack the canteens with snow and put them near the fire, his lighter they had used to finally get said fire going. Lina regarded him- propped against the wall of the research station they currently occupied, head slumped into his bent up knees.
"Thank you, Peary." she mumbled, taking a sip. She wanted to say it was the best water she ever tasted, but that would be a lie. It was metallic and the oxygen had escaped from it. She tried not to think of some animal peeing on the snow before they got there. It was actually pretty gross, but it was water.
She thanked Peary again, not that he would hear. He had died two days prior.
She looked away, upset by the reality that it would likely be her next.
Later, she hoped. Much, much later.
She knew that she should get up, stop wallowing on the floor, wishing for whiskey or macaroni and cheese or hell, that disgusting-smelling stir-fry that Garrus always got. She knew that she should do more to alert the Irving of the fact that she was very much alive, other than fruitlessly sending out daily comm messages that wouldn't likely pass through the storm. She should go back to the truck, check for the emergency radios. She should buck up and walk out in the storm, and make some kind of attempt to save herself.
She looked over at Peary, slumped against the wall. She should have done it days ago.
The truth was that she was sick of being locked out in the cold. After she joined the military she told herself she would never have to spend another night in the snow again, and over time she had grown soft, spoiled, accustomed to the benefits of having a place of one's own. She hated the blowing wind and the awful memories it brought back. She could hardly handle it anymore, and wished for a bed with a nice thick comforter and a warm turian next to her.
Then she thought of the Citadel, of their apartment, of watching cartoons on the couch and accidentally kicking Garrus out of the bed in her sleep, and how he never cared. She thought about afternoons at the firing range, where they would test out the latest upgrades to their weaponry, and then go to the Presidium and spit watermelon seeds at the mass relay monument when no one was looking. She thought of her closest friend and hung her head, ashamed of herself. She owed it to him to explain her actions.
But explain... how? She really didn't know why she did it, herself.
She smacked her forehead a couple of times. Now was not the time for this. Now was the time to think about survival.
If she stayed here she would starve or freeze to death. If she walked out there she would probably freeze to death. What if she got to the truck and the radio didn't work? Would she make it back to the station? Not likely. Any option she could think of ended with a cruel, frozen shuffling off of the mortal coil. Part of her wanted to just point a gun to her temple and get it over with. She was going to die anyway, she might as well do it by her own hand.
She shook her head. Don't think about suicide, she thought. Life is too fucking fun to give up on so easily.
Absentmindedly, she checked the power cells again. She had already drained Peary's cells, charging up her own a bit more- not that it would make a difference. She had already turned down the temperature, keeping it at 18C- brisk, but warm enough to keep her alive.
T-shirt weather, she thought with a snort.
Her eyes wandered to the frozen pack to her left. The wind had shifted and was starting to blow the snow into the building, freezing most of her rations, killing the fire. It had long since covered the bodies of her comrades outside, miles away, as well as the bastard thresher maw that had gotten them into this predicament.
The thresher maw. The supposed rescue mission that her unit was sent on. A obvious trap, in hindsight. When they arrived there was nothing but snow and an abandoned armoured tank. Then the attack. Most of her crew dead. She pulled the M-100 Grenade Launcher off of Lieutenant-Commander Pessl's back, fired twice. The maw was damaged enough from their tank's weapons that it went down after that.
She checked the bodies on the ground- all of them were dead but Peary. The trucks didn't work, the engine was frozen on the one and the other was torn almost in half thanks to the maw. She dragged the poor Midshipman through the snow on foot until she found an abandoned research station- it was missing part of one wall and there was no electricity, but it blocked the wind and for the most part the snow, and protected them from further attack.
That's where they were now. Peary, frozen dead, propped against the far wall. Shepard, cold, still alive, and running out of time. She sent out periodic signals, knowing that they wouldn't likely get past the storm, and waited for rescue.
Lina leaned her head against the wall and decided to try sending one last signal.
Hesitantly, she switched power over to her radio. She could feel her skin cracking painfully in her suit. She licked her dry lips with an equally dry tongue and spoke clearly into the transmitter.
"Sub-Lieutenant Magdalena Shepard, weapons officer aboard the SSV Irving. Born April 11, 2154 in Montreal, Canada. My ship was called to investigate a disappearance of colony scientists on Akuze. My crew mates sent down to the planet are now all dead, including Midshipman Peary. I'm afraid I may join them soon. To whoever finds my body- please make sure I'm brought home in a dignified position..."
Her eyes moved back to Peary, curled up by the far wall.
"... None of this huddled over for warmth crap."
She switched the power back to her climate control and turned it down another half degree. She thought about that term she heard back on Earth- when hell freezes over. She shifted her gaze to the barren, frozen tundra and let out a sigh.
She closed her eyes and let herself imagine being back home, in the light-filled apartment, curled under the blankets, the warmth of the heater. She thought about Garrus, and what had happened before she left. And she decided that she needed to get back to the Citadel. Her eyes flew open and she stood suddenly and crossed the room to kneel next to her dead comrade.
"You may be enjoying the sweet embrace of death, Peary, but I'm not letting you tempt me into giving up." she said furiously as she dug through his belongings. She found some extra heat sinks, and saw the familiar warning printed on the side- Caution! Extremely Flammable! Keep away from open flame! She dug deeper and found a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. She tore off her helmet, stuck one of the cigarettes in her mouth and lit it, then took the extra heat sinks back over to her weapons.
She was determined, and she had an idea.
\-\
Garrus took a moment to check the news stations again, as he had done every half hour since the news of the SSV Irving had come to him. Search crews had found the bodies of nearly every crew member that was lost, but there was no news of his red-haired companion. Every time an update came through, his heart would leap to his throat, but her name remained on the list of missing crew, which was slowly shrinking with every body they found.
After a week, he started to lose hope. She was tough, he knew, she could survive a couple days out in the cold if she found shelter, but an entire week...
He tried to shake the image of her dead in a snowdrift somewhere from his mind. Last time he couldn't think of anything else he had his C-Sec partner, Decean Chellick, slap him across the face (which the older turian had obliged, a little too enthusiastically). This time Garrus was alone, so he turned on the cold water and dunked his head into the sink instead.
He had been sent home from work. He found it hard to get work done when his best friend might be dead. Chellick told him he was compromising the possibility of a promotion, not that Garrus cared at that moment. He then promised to call as soon as he heard anything, and proceeded to tell him without an ounce of tact that he looked like shit and maybe he should get a shower in.
Garrus glared at him. Chellick could be so bitchy sometimes.
He knew that he should eat, but every time he thought of food he realized that she might not ever be there to tell him how disgusting his food smelled or describe to him the horrifying processed food that humans gladly ate. It ruined his appetite.
So, instead of wallowing in pity and filth, he decided to clean.
He washed every dish in the house, including the ones that managed to get shoved under the couch (and were now growing some sort of bacterial colony in what was once mashed potatoes). He picked up all of the dirty laundry and shoved it in the washer. He made the bed, military pocket-corner style and scrubbed the shower. He re-organized his music collection, first by artist, then by date, then by colour, then decided that he liked it the way it was before (easier to find everything) and organized it by artist again. He cleaned Wally's cage. He even went so far as to de-gunk the tops of the condiments in the fridge and throw out all of the leftovers that hid in the back corners.
When that was done, he checked the news vids again. Still no update on Shepard.
The apartment was spotless. He looked around impatiently, looking for something else to distract him, and was thinking of waxing the floor when something shiny caught his eye. He bent down, picking up one of Lina's pearl earrings that managed to roll behind one of the end tables.
And that's when something snapped.
He sat down slowly on the couch, the stud clutched between two fingers, eyes transfixed on it as he pleaded.
"Alright," he said slowly. "This is weird, but, here we go. I'm not a great person- I drink, I smoke, I occasionally partake in other substances, I like loud music and big guns and I'm usually a giant asshole to people but I've never asked anything of you and neither has Lina, and we both need help now."
He rubbed his forehead, wondering how more religious people manage to not feel totally ridiculous while they prayed.
"Spirits," he started again. "Please bring her back to me. I can't promise to be better, but she has so much potential for greatness and she's had a shitty enough life as it is without it ending like this. She deserves so much better than what she's been given."
Silence was his response. He waited with anticipation, then let out a breath and said "Of course."
He turned on the vid screen again and collapsed onto the couch, eyes glued to the screen while he waited.
/-/
Lina's omni-tool beeped. She looked down at the screen and saw a cartoon image of a battery pack with 'x's for eyes. She was officially out of power. She didn't care anymore.
"Why do they have to make it so cute?" she asked no one. She spat the cigarette out of her mouth- it kept getting blown out by the wind and snow anyway. The storm was worse, visibility was 10 metres at best, and now her face was freezing and it was starting to hurt to breathe. She had long since football-kicked her helmet into a snowbank out of frustration.
She was sitting by the second armoured truck, the one that was intact. She had located the fuel reserve on the first one and drained it, dragging the container of mostly frozen goop over to the first vehicle. She also found that the driver's seat had remained undamaged, and unhooked it from the floor before dragging it a short distance away.
It didn't take long for her to load all of the extra heat sinks into the tank. She had a good haul, taken from Peary and the extra stock inside the tank. She also found a few on the ground, the occasional gleam of light alerting her to their presence. They were probably from the packs of her dead comrades. She tried not to think about that.
Once she finished loading anything and everything flammable that she could find into the tank, she walked back to where she had dragged the driver's seat, about fifty metres away, and took a seat, sticking the last cigarette in her mouth and lighting it before she pulled the grenade launcher from her back. Checking the clip, she saw there was one shot left.
She couldn't help but grin as she aimed at the dark truck-shaped object, partially hidden by the snow and pulled the trigger.
The grenade hit and the tank exploded beautifully into a mushroom of flame and gasses as the gasoline burned. The shock wave pushed Lina back into her chair, but she didn't look away as the flames grew higher. It was warm, finally, and as she reached into the rations pack, still strapped across her shoulder, the storm broke and for a few brief moments the clouds parted and Lina could see the beautiful blue sky that was hidden beneath.
She grinned. It felt good to destroy something.
From the pack she pulled one of the Alliance-issue radios, with which every tank was equipped for emergencies because it had a much stronger frequency than the omni-tool comms. She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, saw that it had gone out again, and flicked it over her shoulder before pressing the call button on the radio.
"SSV Irving this is Sub-Lieutenant Lina Shepard. If anyone up there can hear me, please respond."
She pulled the radio away and put the speaker to her ear. She sat there in the driver's seat pulled from the tank and waited for what felt like an eternity for a response. She let out a nervous laugh when the radio crackled and a voice she recognized as Ensign Blackwood spoke to her through the speaker.
"Shepard, glad to hear from you-" The Ensign's voice came through, a little crackled but clear enough. "- just picked up an explosion on the planet's surface about two hundred metres from the original drop zone. Can I venture a guess and say it was you?"
Lina could have cried... if she knew that her tears wouldn't freeze on her face. She gave a positive response and said something along the lines of "I'm fucking freezing down here!" and sat back in the chair, letting the wind blow her greasy hair back out of her face.
She didn't have a clock to see how long it took for the shuttle to arrive. She heard the engines over the blowing wind and heard some voices to her left. She remained in the chair, fighting fatigue as she saw the Alliance rescue workers run towards her. They pulled her across the snow (her legs refused to work any longer) and strapped her to a gurney in the shuttle before taking off. Medical officers got to work applying medi-gel to her frostbite as the shuttle reached atmosphere.
Lina let her hand drift towards the medical officer's shoulder and pulled at her sleeve to ask her something. The officer leaned down and put her ear close to Lina's mouth to listen. Lina licked her lips.
"Do you have any whiskey?" she asked. "I really need a fucking drink."
\-\
Pt. 3 – If I Don't Make It Home
Garrus pushed his way through the crowd of reporters at the entrance to the hospital. She'd just been brought in, not twenty minutes ago, and Chellick had woken him up to let him know.
"Jon Grissom Memorial Hospital, room 429," he said as Garrus answered his comm. "Alliance just alerted us to the media shit storm that was likely going to be taking place outside."
Garrus jumped up from the couch, barely giving himself time to put on shoes before he ran down the stairwell towards the Alliance wards. He'd opted to run instead of wait for a rapid transit shuttle, and when he got to the hospital he could see why C-Sec needed to intervene- there were dozens of media personnel outside, all yelling questions at an Alliance official while Chellick stood next to him, looking vaguely annoyed at having to spend his day babysitting a bunch of asshole news reporters.
Garrus shoved a salarian out of the way to run up the steps, getting stopped briefly by some Alliance officers who appeared to be helping to keep the mob at bay. He flashed his C-Sec ID and met with Chellick at the top of the stairs.
"It's a fucking madhouse," the older turian muttered as he walked with Garrus to the hospital entrance. "These people are animals."
"She's inside?" Garrus asked.
"Room 429." Chellick repeated, nodding.
Garrus nodded, grabbing Chellick's shoulder. "Thank you." he said with all sincerity.
"Take care." Chellick responded and turned back to maintain the crowd.
Garrus wasn't sure if he meant of himself or of Lina.
/-/
Lina awoke in the hospital room, still exhausted. She didn't know where she was or how she had gotten there, she just knew that she was hungry.
She sat up as best she could, her worn out body still sore from days of clenched muscles and unstoppable shivering. She vaguely remembered being picked up by an Alliance cruiser and brought back to the ship, but after that her memory failed her. She looked about the room, the instruments and tubes connected to her told her she was in the hospital, as well as the crappy paper gown she was wearing. Another quick look told her that someone else had been there- the chair was pulled up right next to the bed. Laying on the floor just beyond it, she recognized her overnight bag and a brown leather satchel- the one she bought for Garrus on Ilium not too long before.
What is this the dark ages! She thought as she fruitlessly tried to pull the gown down to her knees. She felt at the back and was relieved to find she was at least wearing a long tank top underneath it, so her butt wouldn't be exposed if she were to stand.
She managed to shift herself closer to the window, her suspicions confirmed when she spotted the familiar Alliance wards outside. She let her legs dangle off the edge of the bed as she watched the traffic speed through the hospital grounds.
Behind her, the door opened. She didn't turn around, expecting a nurse or doctor to bustle in with a friendly "you're awake!" or some clever quip like she'd seen on medical dramas the few times she watched anything other than cartoons on the vids. Suddenly that warm, foggy smell of rainfall filtered into the room, and as she felt the mattress give way next to her, Lina knew just which charming asshole turian was taking up the space.
She turned and smiled at him, he was already looking at her.
"Garrus." said Lina.
"Lina." said Garrus.
And suddenly, everything seemed right again.
\-\
Lina ravenously devoured one half of an egg salad sandwich. She didn't even like egg salad, but she was hungry enough and late in the afternoon the hospital cafeteria didn't have much else. It wasn't even real egg salad, more a simulated egg-like protein substance that was drenched in mayonnaise. She scoffed- the Alliance could splurge on five hundred private hospital rooms and the best human doctors available, but they couldn't ship some damn eggs?
Garrus watched her as he drank a stale coffee, making a slight wretch as the particularly pungent odour drifted towards his sensitive nose. He sat a bit further back and made a disgusted face.
"That smells horrible," he commented. "More horrible than most of the food you eat."
Lina ignored him, determined to finish the sandwich before her stomach made other plans with it. She swallowed the last bite and washed it down with half a carton of milk.
"I would have gone to get you food." he said, pushing the empty sandwich container as far away from them as possible.
"It would've taken too long." she responded quickly between gulps of milk.
"About as long as it took me to track down a nurse to pull all of your tubes out." he said, shuddering slightly at the uncomfortable memory.
"Hey, I was passed out for four days, I had to pee somewhere," she crushed the milk carton and lobbed it into a nearby trash bin. It emitted a chirp and a cheerful "thank you!" as the carton dropped into it.
The two went silent as the cafeteria workers walked past them. They glared at Garrus with reproach as they passed, as he earlier had jokingly tried to order "Two braised livers, a stick of mutton and one of your young on a roll." before Lina pushed him out of the way. They hadn't been amused.
Lina sat back in her plastic chair, eyes sweeping over the now empty cafeteria. She was much more comfortable now, having changed into some pyjamas and a hooded sweater that covered her up much more modestly than the hospital gown did. Garrus leaned forward to rest his head on the table, stopped, picked up the empty sandwich container and tossed it into the garbage, and leaned forward again. The garbage bin happily chirped and thanked them a second time.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as she leaned further back, her chair tipping onto its hind legs.
"Better," she answered, balancing herself there. "Still tired."
"Do you want to go back upstairs?"
"Not yet."
With a thump her chair returned to four legs and Lina pushed herself closer to Garrus, turning so she could lean against him. He smirked, his head still planted firmly on the table.
"Garrus, why are you sitting like that?" she asked him.
"Haven't slept well," he responded. "Hard to sleep in a hospital chair."
"Why are you sleeping in the chair?" she asked. "Go home! I can survive overnight by myself!"
"Alright." he replied without protest.
Lina laughed. No smart-alec quips? Poor guy must be tired. They sat in silence a few more moments, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth radiating from him, the steady rise and fall of his back as he breathed.
"What are you thinking about?" he broke the silence.
"A lot," she opened her eyes and squinted against the bright florescent lights above them. "Mostly what's going to happen to me after this."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," she pushed her hair out of her face, and made a mental note to take a shower soon. "How long I'll be off-duty for recovery, what ship I'll be on when I go back..."
"You don't think you'll be on the Irving?"
"They have to replace a good part of the crew before they ship out again," she sighed. "It's easier to replace me and go now than wait for one officer to be fit to serve again. I'll likely be reassigned."
And the odds of being stationed on the Citadel...
"Don't think about it now," he said, trying to wedge the bad thoughts out of his own mind. "Enjoy your time off while you've got it."
She nodded, made a noncommittal response, and pushed herself back into a sitting position.
"You know, I don't think this table is very clean." Garrus observed.
"It's probably cleaner than our table at home."
"Well, yes, but I don't make it a habit to press my face onto that table," he picked himself up and turned to her. "Please tell me I didn't pick up anything embarrassing from there."
She smirked and brushed a few crumbs from his brow.
"Thank you." he stretched in his chair. The lights suddenly started going out, causing Lina to jump suddenly.
"I think they want us to leave." he stood from the uncomfortable plastic chair and held out his hand to help her up. He continued to clasp it as they followed the walkway out of the cafeteria.
The elevator was empty when it came down, thankfully, and Lina let herself lean into Garrus' side as they rode it up. She rested her head on the ball of his shoulder, and gathered her thoughts, trying to find the courage to broach a subject she did not want to bring up. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
"Garrus," she said quietly, her voice a little hoarse. "What happened before I left..."
She could feel him tense up.
He knew it was coming- she was not the type to let things like that lie.
He had tried to convince himself it was just a thing that humans do with their human friends, but after a bit of research on the extranet and around the clubs while on duty (including one embarrassing moment where he stopped one human couple during their gregarious displays of affection to ask them why they were doing what they were doing with the person they were doing it with, almost earning himself a knock about the face before the male eyed his sniper rifle and thought better of it), he discovered that no, it was definitely a romantic thing. And that if it wasn't a romantic display, it was widely considered a move of bad judgement influenced by hormones and alcohol. That's when his head started spinning.
So why had she kissed him?
And by the spirits, why had he kissed her back?
It was a foolish question, of course. He knew why he had kissed her back. But whether it was erroneous judgement or true emotional intent that had driven her to do it in the first place, he was not quite prepared to find out. He looked down at her, her face expectant, waiting for his reaction, but...
It was far too soon. They had been together again for less than an hour, and in the last few weeks he hardly had the time to think about what he wanted to tell her.
He grasped her hand, squeezed it, and leaned down to press his forehead to hers.
He closed his eyes, "Let's not talk about that just yet. Right now, I want my best friend."
In the room again, Garrus was careful not to crush any of the IV tubes that the nurse replaced when Lina got back into bed. The two of them lay side-by-side on the tiny hospital bed, Lina flicking through the channels on the tiny vid screen mounted above her bed. She passed by a cheesy drama about rich elcor families and their problems, a documentary about a group of hanar that travel across Citadel space preaching about the Enkindlers, a reality show about an asari and her eight spoiled children.
Lina frowned., "Same old crap on TV."
"That hasn't changed in three weeks, Shepard." Garrus nudged her.
She smirked and turned the vid screen off, satisfied there was nothing worth watching. Letting out a yawn, she stretched herself out and turned to him, her eyes fluttering a little.
"I think it's about that time." she said.
"I'll go." he pushed himself off the bed. She grabbed his wrist to get his attention.
"If you're not doing anything tomorrow... come back?"
/-/
The next week was spent in the hospital. Lina caught up on her reading or cartoons, Garrus went back to work. Andrea had visited, once. There had been a lot of crying and hugging, which made Lina uncomfortable, but she had also brought sherry, which made Lina happy. By the time he finished his shift, the two were delightfully shitfaced with half a bottle left. Lina woke up the next morning to see Andrea cuddling her and Garrus sprawled on the visitor's chair.
She was finally released after she was deemed healthy, and felt like a celebrity as she made her way through the crowds of media, hood covering her face, Garrus beside her in C-Sec uniform as he led her to the waiting car. He got in after her and the two of them felt absurd as the car pulled up in front of the shitty walk-up that was home.
It took her a few days, but she eventually told him what it was like on Akuze. About the Thresher Maw attacking her crew, about the abandoned research station she'd used as shelter, about watching Peary freeze to death. And she told him how it reminded her, horribly, of her time in Montreal.
He was quiet for a moment before gently pressing his head to her own.
"Are you alright?" he finally asked.
She sighed. Truth was, she had been jumping at every little thing, afraid of another attack. Afraid of losing someone else.
"No." she admitted quietly, a little embarrassed.
He pulled her closer, nuzzling her ear.
"You will be."