Two updates in one day. I'm going crazy, right? Not true, actually. I'm just getting rid of a lot of stories I have saved on my computer. Oh well. Please review, guys.

Is she still the same Shepard I remember?

Garrus mentally chastised himself. Of course it was her—he'd known it from the second he'd seen her through his scope on Omega. He knew Shepard well (or at least he thought he did). Her expression as she surveyed the battlefield before her was the exact same one that had stopped him dead in his tracks after the shootout at Dr. Michel's clinic. It was the expression that had convinced him to join her. The one he would've followed through hell.

She moved across combat zones the same way she had on Feros. She held her rifle the same way she had when they'd been fighting Saren on the Citadel. She even talked to Garrus the same way, always bantering with him and keeping him going through the tough times. Still, there was something off about her. Garrus knew it. He just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Garrus, hold still. You're going to pinch my fingers with those mandibles of yours," Chakwas said tersely, hands working at the raw side of his face. She'd called him in for a check-up a few days after he'd arrived on the Normandy to do a "simple scan" of his biometrics. Now that she was poking and prodding at the mess underneath his bandage, Garrus regretted the decision to visit.

"Consider it self-defense," he said, wincing as she peeled off the last of his bandage and dabbed more medi-gel on the affected area.

"I've half a mind to let it fester," she said, leaning back to give him a disapproving look. "Would you like that?"

"No ma'am," Garrus said in mock-obedience. He cracked a small smile at her which she begrudgingly returned. She returned to her work on the side of his face.

The door of the med bay beeped and opened. Garrus couldn't look past Chakwas to see who had entered the room. Luckily, he didn't have to. Without looking up, Chakwas greeted, "Ah, Commander. Right on time. Take a seat and I'll be with you in a minute."

Out of the corner of his eye, Garrus watched Shepard come around to the bed next to his and hop up to sit. She wasn't dressed in her fatigues, he noticed. Instead of her usual Cerberus uniform (that still felt weird to say), she'd changed into a black t-shirt and shorts that showcased her odd, squishy-looking human legs. She swung her feet back and forth as she watched them, her eyes pointedly avoiding his. That feeling from earlier came back—something was different about her. He just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Shepard, how are you feeling today?" Chakwas asked, still focused on putting Garrus' bandages back on.

Shepard's eyes darted to Garrus and back to Chakwas. She looked uncomfortable with him being there but still answered, "I'm feeling better than yesterday. A bit sore, though."

"What's sore, exactly?"

"My face still hurts."

"Join the club," Garrus quipped, earning him a stern look from Chakwas as she finished bandaging him. Shepard cracked a small smile at his comment. Good thing her sense of humor hasn't changed.

Chakwas stepped back from Garrus and tilted his head, surveying her work. Obviously pleased, she patted him on the shoulder, saying, "All right, you're done. Come back in a few days for a new bandage. Hopefully by then I'll have those dextro-antibiotics we talked about."

"Looking forward to it." (He wasn't.)

Chakwas turned from him and stepped toward Shepard. The Commander scowled as Chakwas began to wave a small metal wand in her face to scan her biometrics. He felt bad for her—Garrus had always shared Shepard's dislike of doctors. Instead of taking his cue to leave, though, Garrus stood up and leaned against the wall closest to Shepard's bed. "Mind if I stay?" he asked her.

"I don't mind," she answered, carefully avoiding his line of sight. Chakwas began touching Shepard's malleable cheeks and peering into the glowing recesses of her scars, frowning. She obviously didn't like what she saw.

"These scars should be healed by now. Have you been stressed lately?" she asked, tapping a few buttons on a different medical scanner and waving it in front of her face again.

"No more than usual."

"Have you lost your temper with anyone?"

At that, Shepard hesitated. Garrus knew what she was thinking about—last night in the upstairs comm room, Miranda had gone off on one of her tirades about Shepard not being fast enough in her mission to find the other team members. The only other teammate she'd recruited aside from Garrus was Mordin Solus, who'd proven to be rather unremarkable so far. They needed more fighters, Miranda had argued.

To say the least, Shepard didn't solve the argument diplomatically.

Clearly remembering this, Shepard lied, "Nope."

"Uh-huh," Chakwas said, unconvinced. She put down the device in her hands and picked up a datapad, tapping madly and frowning. "I'm going to go check some things with Miss Lawson and Dr. Solus. Please stay here, Commander. I'll be back shortly."

Shepard nodded and Chakwas left with her datapad, muttering things to herself. For the first time since that initial conversation in the comm room, Shepard and Garrus were finally alone.

Shepard kept her eyes on the ground in front of her, swinging her legs again and biting the inside of her cheek nervously. Garrus searched for something to say. Spirits, why is this so difficult? They used to talk all the time on the old SR-1. Garrus had fond memories of staying up late with Shepard and Wrex in the belly of the Normandy, working on the Mako and sharing their typical "everybody-died-but-me" war stories. Shepard never had very many of those stories, though—she usually managed to save everyone. Garrus envied her for that. Still, talking to her had been easier when they were just two rogue soldiers with a crazy cause. Now, things were different. The Reapers were real. She had died over Alchera. In his attempt to emulate her, he'd lost his entire team.

Regardless of their reunion, Shepard wasn't Shepard and Garrus wasn't Garrus anymore. They'd both been through too much.

Shepard winced suddenly, catching Garrus' attention. She rubbed a hand across her cheek and lightly traced the glowing scars that Garrus couldn't help but look at. He wondered what kind of technology was working underneath her skin, keeping her alive.

"You can say it," she said suddenly, starling him out of his reverie.

"Sorry, what?"

She looked up at him. For the first time, he noticed the flecks of glowing orange that seemed to be peppered throughout her once-green eyes. Spirits, what did they do to you?

"You're worried I'm not myself anymore," she observed, leaning back on her palms. "I understand your concerns."

Her stilted, clinical tone sounded horrifyingly unfamiliar to his ears, which worried him. Were they still friends? Maybe she was mad that he had tried to be like her…and killed his team in the process. Garrus thought carefully about his next words. Sighing, he rubbed the uninjured side of his neck and admitted, "I know you're you, Shepard. That's not what I'm worried about."

"What are you worried about, then?"

Garrus chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head before sitting down on the medical bed across from her. She was looking at her swinging feet, avoiding his gaze. The tense line of her shoulders showed that she was bracing herself for his answer. Gently, he said, "I'm not worried whether or not you're really Shepard—I'm worried that you don't believe that you're Shepard."

Her head snapped up, morose eyes glowing faintly around the edges. He had to fight to maintain eye contact—she looked so vulnerable and unsure of herself that it felt disrespectful to see her like this. On a turian frigate, the C.O. never showed anything to his troops except strict authority. It had never been that way under Shepard's command, though. That being said, Garrus had never really thought of her as a human, necessarily. She was his commanding officer and it didn't matter what race she was, as long as she was sure of herself and he respected her authority. Now, though, was a different story. He knew how to handle Shepard when she was being stubborn, angry, funny, joyful, or serious. He thought he'd seen it all.

But he had never seen her look scared.

Shepard rubbed her face in discomfort as she explained, "I still have all my memories. I remember our old crew. I remember the Skyllian Blitz. Hell, I even remember that night we went shooting together when we were on Noveria."

"You'll remember that I won, then."

She kicked one of his knees good-naturedly, retorting, "I remember that you cheated. You were using mods on your rifle."

"Hey, you only decided that was against the rules after you started losing. Not my fault you didn't specify."

She laughed for the first time since he'd seen her. It was a tight, half-choked laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. In an instant, all of his worries about the real Commander Shepard were obliterated—her eyes crinkled around the edges the exact same way they used all those years ago. He didn't know why, but he loved watching her eyes do that. He silently resolved to make her laugh more in the future. If anyone needed to laugh, it was her.

"Shepard," Garrus started, a more serious tone in his voice. Her smile died a little, but didn't disappear completely. "If you ever start doubting yourself, come and find me. I'll set you straight. Everyone else on this damned ship might lie to you, but I never will."

Her face darkened into something unidentifiable. Garrus was better than most turians at reading human expressions, but he was lost on this one—was she feeling wistful? It wasn't anger, but it wasn't sadness either. It also had a bit of confusion in it, he thought.

"What's wrong, Shepard?"

Shepard bit her lower lip. Garrus could see her mentally weighing her options and planning out her words. The machines in the med bay beeped continuously like a heartbeat, keeping the silence from becoming too heavy. He waited for her to speak.

"Today is my birthday."

Garrus was confused. "Uh…all right then. Happy birthday?"

"No, no, no," she said, shaking her head. She sighed in exasperation. "It's my birthday. Normally I wouldn't think much of it—I haven't really celebrated my birthday since I enlisted—but the thing is…I don't know how old I am anymore."

"You don't know how old you are?" he repeated dumbly, not quite understanding. "How do you not know?"

"Well, think about it," she started, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She laced her fingers together and continued, "I was twenty-nine when the Normandy went down over Alchera. Cerberus had me on a table for two years after that. I should be thirty-one right now, I think. But I'm honestly not that sure."

"How can you not be sure?"

"I don't know how long I was dead."

She said it so matter-of-factly that it stunned Garrus into brief silence. After all this time, he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that Shepard wasn't dead. Hearing her talk about it so flippantly was unnerving, too. She might as well have been talking about the weather, she was so cold about it.

Talking about her death gave Garrus flashbacks of her funeral at the Presidium. He'd refused to go—going to the funeral made him feel like he was accepting that her death had actually happened, which he didn't. He would always remind himself that they'd never found her body. As long as she hadn't been found, there was hope that she was still out there.

But she had been dead.

Shepard continued, almost like she was talking to herself. "I was dead when they found me. I know that much. After that, though, I have no idea. Miranda won't let me into her files to find out. I don't know if I was dead for a week, a few months, or the majority of the two years. It's all a giant blank for me. The rules on having birthdays don't exactly cover the possibility of being dead for a certain amount of time."

Garrus cleared his throat and pushed his emotions back down into his chest. He didn't want to think about her being dead. He couldn't. She was all he had left in the galaxy, aside from his family. He refused to lose another member of his team.

"Well," Garrus said lightly, "one could probably make the argument that you're younger than you're supposed to be. With all those Cerberus enhancements, you've got to be in better shape than you were back then. I'll be surprised if you don't live to be at least two hundred years old."

A small smirk appeared on her face. The tension had eased. "That's a pretty generous estimation for an ex-Alliance soldier who's planning a suicide mission into the Omega-4 relay."

"What can I say? I'm a generous guy."

Shepard chuckled, the glowing scars on her face straining under the pressure of being stretched farther than usual. He longed to get a closer look at them while he could, before they healed and he could never see what kind of technology hummed beneath the surface of her skin. He knew he had to do it before Chakwas came back with a solution. Hesitantly, he reached out a curious hand toward her face.

The laugh died in her throat and her eyes narrowed sharply. Shepard looked wary of his intentions, but didn't move away. Garrus took that as a good sign.

"May I?" Garrus asked quietly, gesturing toward her face.

She looked unsure of his request, but leaned forward in silent consent after a few moments of deliberation.

Garrus reached forward and placed a talon underneath her chin, lifting her face up toward him and tilting it to one side. For a moment, he forgot to look at the scars. He was surprised at how warm and soft the skin on her face was. He'd always imagined that her skin would be squishy and lukewarm to the touch, like most of the other humans he'd worked with over the years, but the warmth that emanated from her was surprisingly pleasant and reassuring. For the first time in two years, he felt confident in the fact that Shepard was, in fact, alive. The warmth of her skin was proof enough of that. As he turned her face gently toward the light, he felt the delicate bones of her jaw through her skin and almost smiled. She's real.

"The scars seem to get worse when I get angry," she murmured quietly. He enjoyed feeling the vibrations of her voice travelling up his talons, reminding him of the purring subharmonics all turians had. Shepard finished, "I should probably work on managing my temper."

"Your anger is usually justified," Garrus countered, peering closely at the glowing cybernetics that showed through her scars. Tilting her face to the other side, he continued, "I say do what you want. Facial scars seem to be a popular trend these days, anyway."

Shepard scoffed, pulling back from Garrus' hand. "Scars may be sexy on a krogan or a turian, but not so much on a human."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he drawled. "You seem to make it work."

"Not sure if I should be offended or flattered by that."

"Flattered, definitely. Those scars give you a scary-sexy vibe."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, amused. "Didn't know you were into humans, Vakarian."

Garrus froze, suddenly feeling like he'd crossed a line of their friendship. He hadn't meant to. It just slipped out. He stammered, "T-That's not what I meant, Commander. I only meant—"

"I know what you meant, Garrus," she assured him. "I appreciate the sentiment. Maybe I'll keep the scars after all. They do make me look pretty tough."

The tension made by his comment was dissipating, thankfully. Garrus laughed nervously. "You look tough either way, Shepard."

"I would hate to step on your toes, though," she amended, gesturing to the ruined side of his face. "You have those krogan ladies to impress, remember?"

"I like to think I have better chances than getting stuck with a krogan woman, but yes. Sure. Whatever makes you feel better."

The corner of Shepard's lips twitched upward in a smirk, all previous worry erased from her face. She looked almost happy, like the way she had looked when she first realized it was him back on Omega. Garrus was glad to have given her temporary respite from her worries—she could use all the reassurance he could possibly give her and more.

He opened his mouth to tell her how much he missed her, but the med bay door hissed open just as the words were about to tumble out of his mouth. It was Chakwas, carrying her datapad and frowning intently at it. She looked up at them and surprise flitted across her features at the realization that Garrus hadn't left, but her features quickly melted into a warm and understanding smile. "Commander, why don't you come back tomorrow for your scans? I'm sure you both have a lot of catching up to do."

"Really? Thanks, Doc," Shepard replied, hopping off the bed and stretching her arms above her head. Her shirt lifted enough for Garrus to see more glowing scars that crisscrossed her stomach and hips in careful designs, probably from the surgery that put her back together. It looked painful. She looks thin, too.

"Come on, Shepard," Garrus said, an idea coming to him. He stood up and headed for the med bay door. He turned around and jerked his head in the direction of the elevator. "Why don't we bug Joker for a bit until he agrees to stop by the Citadel? I could use some decent food."

Shepard's eyes lit up and she broke into a bright grin. She fell in step beside him and they walked out the door, talking. Chakwas could hear their conversation as they meandered down the hallway.

"I could go for a cheeseburger from that human restaurant down in Zakera Ward."

"The one that gave you food poisoning?"

"Hey, no regrets—that place had delicious gyros. Totally worth the vomiting. But no, not that one. I'm talking about the other place we went after the Reaper attack. Remember?"

"I would probably remember if I knew what the hell a cheeseburger wa—"

The door slipped shut with a gentle hiss, cutting off their conversation. Chakwas smiled, glad to see Shepard so animated again. She had begun to worry that Shepard would never snap back to normal after her reconstruction. She was showing some emotional wear and tear. Even with having Joker and the Normandy back, it hadn't been enough.

Garrus seemed to be the medicine that Chakwas could never prescribe. He made her happy. He reminded her that she wasn't alone in the universe. The Alliance may have abandoned her, but he never would. Not again. Not after what happened to both of them.

There was still a chance the Commander may not fully heal, but this was a start.

It was a very good start.

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