Written by MizDirected with dialogue and actions for Garrus supplied by the sublime MosaicCreme
ALiSI: Artificial Life Support Intelligence
PVS: Persistent vegetative state.
Torin: Turian male over the age of majority. 15
Buratrum: The turian equivalent of hell.
The monster swallowed her whole, it's roaring maw gobbling her down like Jonah. Inside the belly of the whale, she glided through an ocean of impossible, peaceful black. Never alone, others swirled around her, a beautiful dance of thought and emotion. She knew 'me' and 'mine', but 'theirs' no longer remained separate, replaced by 'ours'.
Then an explosion of fire and agony set the ocean ablaze. Instead of gliding through soothing waters, that blast threw her to the surface, forcing her to float amidst the flames of the monster's jaws without even the comfort of the others … of that connection. Alone, terrified … every nerve … every cell … even her veins on fire, magma rolling beneath the surface, she flailed, hands slapping at the water, struggling to dive down, to smother the inferno.
"Yes! We have brain activity showing on the scans. Good God, Miranda, we actually did it."
"Don't start congratulating yourself yet; her brain activity is barely registering. Keep your eyes on the scans. Ramirez, tighten up the cranial restraints and flip the frame."
Her world tilted. Hello? Who's there? Where am I? Someone? Can you hear me?
"We'll start the cerebral implants. Pedersen bring the robotic arms online … prepare the central processor implant. I want to start simulations with ALiSI first thing tomorrow morning."
What? Hello? What did that all mean? Can you hear me? Let me go back. Please, just let me go back under the water. Please. No. Whatever you're doing, please … no. Please.
Razor-sharp teeth gripped her head. She fought against them without effect. She screamed, but the monster's jaws held her tight. When those teeth sank into her skull, she tried to submerge, to disappear beneath the waters, to join her family … all the ones who loved her. But, the voices yanked her back, tearing silent scream after silent scream from lips that never moved. Frozen and immobile, her body formed a prison around the fire, the monster's jaws gnashing.
"Dear God, her scans are showing elevated beta and alpha waves, Miranda. I think she's aware. We need to anesthetize her."
Yes! Please! Can you … oh god … no … please. Someone hear me! Please. I'm here. Why can't I move? Why can't I ... ? Her questions … her begging shattered into a scream that drowned out the monster's whining roar … the crunching sound of its teeth drilling through bone.
"Don't be ridiculous, Wilson. She's still well within PVS range."
Listen to him! Dear God, please, just listen to …. Mommy? Daddy? Please … find me. Come for me. Take me back—
"Don't start this again, Wilson," a third voice said. "She's a half-cooked egg … fucking sunny side up. Just leave all that religious 'what about her soul' crap in your quarters."
She screamed in the monster's jaws until exhaustion turned screams into pleading, and then madness ...
Swallow me. Swallow. Swallow. Let me die. I need … let me die. Waters … the waters. Put out fire. Swallow. Swallow. The waters …
Through the cacophony, a quiet voice whispered. Straining, she fought to hear it, but—
She startled awake to cement walls bathed in the sickly glow from the computer monitors and vid screens. A duet of snoring serenaded her from either side, easing her down onto her pillow. Warm breath fanned her brow, drawing her gaze. A soft smile tugged at her lips even through the pain. At some point after she'd fallen asleep, Garrus had moved around to her side of the bed. As he succumbed to sleep himself, he'd slumped sideways in his chair until, with one arm folded under the corner of her pillow, he drifted off, his head resting next to hers.
Her fingers, tucked between her pillow and her cheek, floated up to follow the line of his mandible, never touching. She knew that his exhaustion wouldn't override his protective instinct, and if she touched him even slightly, he'd wake. She'd never met anyone who guarded the ones he cared about so fiercely. Maybe it was a turian trait, but she knew too few turians to tell. Saren had snatched Nihlus away before they'd had a chance to become friends.
Her smile widened but crooked, deformed by the agony crawling along the wide cracks in her flesh. She swallowed the moan that wound around the base of her tongue, choking on it like spaghetti swallowed too soon. She focused on Garrus, his face easing the pain back to bearable levels. How many times had she awoken alone on that cement slab the Normandy designers called a bed, turned on her side—eyes still closed—and wished to feel his breath on her face … to breathe in and discover that his scent claimed as much ownership of the space as her own.
She pressed her lips tight on a bitter laugh. That was what came out of making her entire life about the work … what came out of a loneliness so deep and ingrained that it formed a second layer of skin just below the surface: invisible but harder than any armour. She'd looked into his eyes, felt the goodness of his heart, heard his voice, listened to the keenness of his mind ... experienced the strength in his arms, and a longing sprouted, growing roots all the way down to the bedrock of her soul.
She dismissed it. She called it a great many names—desperation, fear, friendship, a silly crush—but never the one name that admitted the truth. Not until the day before.
"I dreamed of the monster again," she said, her whisper no louder than a sigh. "But this time, when it swallowed me, I remembered going somewhere so beautiful." Her eyes drifted closed. "Not some lovely garden—all harps and clouds and angels—like people say heaven will be, but paradise all the same. It was dark, but there was nothing to be afraid of, and I wasn't alone. My family were right there: a part of me, and I knew I was a part of them too." Her smile evened out. "I was a part of everyone … untold billions of souls, all at peace, all able to feel everything … all connected. God, Garrus … I can't do it justice, but it was the most profoundly beautiful experience."
Opening her eyes, her gaze wandered along the blue lines of his familia notas, the strong contours of his face. "I wish I could let you feel what I felt there." She sighed and shook her head. "Well, maybe not. If we're alive, and we're stuck here fighting in the filth and the blood, maybe it would be cruel to show you what's waiting for us at the end."
She reached out, stopping her fingers and forcing them down to the pillow less than a centimeter from his face, close enough for his heat envelope to ease away the bloodless chill left behind by the dream. His breaths grew more shallow, coming more closely together as he began to wake. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to touch him since he hovered just on the other side of consciousness anyway.
No, not yet, not before she told him the rest.
"They pulled me out of heaven, Garrus. I don't how long it was, but they pulled me back into my body." She closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to remain slow and steady even as the need to run washed through her veins. "I think I slept sometimes, because I don't remember everything, but I remember the pain. I remember screaming, trying to make them hear me." She swallowed. "I remember the pain and the fear."
Making the decision for her, her fingers crept forward to touch the top plate of his mouth. "That's why I can't let them put me back under. It hurts—God, sometimes it feels as if I'm on fire, the flames made of white hot knives—but it's bearable. What I remember …." She traced the warm, textured plate with whisper-soft fingertips the sensation raw and intense on the exposed nerves, but real. "What I remember isn't."
Shepard opened her eyes, her smile returning to tug back one side of her mouth when she heard Garrus's breathing change, just for a fraction of a second before evening back out. For a moment, her own diaphragm hitched at the warm wash of breath stirring her hair. For a fraction of a second, she allowed that picture to form again: lying curled in against his side, his arms around her, his face a kiss away from hers.
Clearing her throat softly to warn him, she pulled her fingers back then tapped the tip of her index finger against the end of his nose. "Faker."
She heard his mandible flick, opening her eyes in time to see his smile. His eyes drifted open, and he lifted a hand, tracing the contour of her cheek with a gentle talon, nurturing her fantasy of lovers waking together. His voice caressed her like velvet as he said, "I didn't want to interrupt."
She let out a long breath, leaning ever so slightly into his touch. He'd said he loved her, and now he touched her as if her tattered old cheek were something precious. Her lips trembled, her smile timorous as she popped her free shoulder toward her ear. "If you heard all that, I have to congratulate you on an epic performance. You had me convinced until just a few seconds back." Her hand inched toward his face, but then fluttered down to settle between them on the mattress.
She stared into his eyes, seeing his weariness there, weariness and so much more. "Sorry if I woke you," she said, addressing that part of his gaze she could identify, "I know you haven't had much sleep." Using her concern as an excuse, she slipped her fingertips along the arched line of muscle in his neck. "I bet you're stiff after sleeping in that position."
"Don't be. I'd rather be awake with you." Garrus's gaze remained fixed on her as he took a deep breath, letting it out slow, almost hesitant. Was he afraid she'd up and bolt? "I think you should look at the Cerberus laptop I found, Shepard. I think it'll put some more of this into perspective for you. And maybe … if you're willing, you can talk some of it over with Dr. Solus." He glanced toward the door as if the mention of Mordin's name might summon him. "He might know why you felt whatever Cerberus did … what they did wrong."
Despite nodding, she made no move to get up. The blankets were warm, the bed comfortable, and he was close enough that all she needed to do was slide forward a little …. Heart thumping quick and light, she tensed to move, the fantasy calling to her, coaxing her to finish it with a kiss. What? Kiss him? Wait. No. A soft snort escaped just ahead of a chuckle. What the hell? Muscles letting go, she melted back into the pillow, cheeks burning. Thank goodness, as a turian, he probably didn't register the cues of moving in for a kiss.
Recover and quickly. What was he talking about? The Cerberus laptop, right.
She nodded. "I want to look at it, but if it means moving … yeah, I'm not prepared to move yet." As if to emphasize the point, she snuggled further down into the blankets, tugging them up to her ears.
Garrus chuffed, and lifted his head enough to look past Shepard at the boy laying on her other side. Mandibles flaring, he shook his head, scarcely moving. "It's probably not something you want to go over in present company." He settled his head back onto the pillow next to hers, adjusting his arm to give him a little more support.
She pressed her lips together to kill the lovesick teenager grin that tried to greet his return. Maybe the strange little fiction played inside his head as well. "True." She glanced toward the child, but not far enough to see him, afraid to move in case she jostled the bed. The little guy needed to stay asleep as long as possible. He needed to heal. "How does he look? He was such a mess yesterday. Mordin and I couldn't even coax his name out of him."
Garrus wriggled his head deeper into the pillow. "I'd have to get up to get a better look, and 'I'm not prepared to move yet." He yawned … all pointy teeth and curled tongue. "He's out of it, Shepard. Dr. Solus was in here about an hour or so ago and gave him more meds. He's not hurting right now."
"Mordin must have given me a top-up as well, because all my sore spots are screaming at a very livable volume." She shifted a little closer, her brow brushing his. She froze at the contact when Garrus's breath caught, but then he tilted his head, pressing his oh-so-warm brow into hers, and she relaxed. "If we're going to talk, we probably should go elsewhere, but yeah, I'm still too damned lazy." She grinned. "Although from this close, you only have one weird-looking, really glowy eyeball."
Garrus' chuffed, the playful protest at odds with the low hum of his subvocals, the deep, chesty sound comforting. "You wound me, Shepard. My eyeball is perfectly normal-looking. Your eyeball on the other hand …."
She chuckled. "What? Cyclopsian human doesn't do it for you?" Her heart sped up, beating quick and light, his breath soft against her face. Dear and fluffy lord, how did he do it? She tilted her face a little closer and closed her eyes, enjoying the way his thoughtful, considering subvocals rumbled as he teased, making a show out of mulling over her question.
Finally, she felt the bed shift with his shrug as he replied, "Hmm. That depends, are we talking about removing an eye, or just having one big eye in the middle of your face?"
Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she let out an exaggerated sigh. "One big eye, naturally. If I lost an eye, I'd just get an eye patch, and you know you couldn't resist the whole rakish pirate thing. I could get a tricorn hat, stick a … just massive feather in it." She stuck her right hand out from under the pillow, her left stretched out to amaze him with the enormity of the plumage with which she'd festoon her hat. "You'd be completely helpless."
Mandibles fluttering, his chest shook with suppressed laughter. "Maybe we should get you an eye patch anyway, just to see if you're right. We can both get one."
She laughed, surprised. The bed jostled, and she froze, holding her breath to make sure she hadn't woken Radis up. When the child just murmured and went quiet again, she traced one fingertip along the frame of Garrus's visor. "You practically wear one already."
She knew she'd made a mistake holding her breath the moment the door opened.
Shepard leaned up a little as the salarian hurried in, his arm already glowing orange, his scanner running. "L'oeuf, heart rate and respiration abnormal."
She blushed as Garrus made a choked sort of groan-growl combination. Leaning up the rest of the way, she braced her elbow against her pillow. "I'm fine, Mordin. No emergency." She casts a quick, bashful glance at Garrus. "We're just talking."
Garrus's rumble turned distinctly toward the growling end of the spectrum as he sat up. She hid a grin behind her hand as he glared at the doctor, his mandibles flared. A charged silence dropped over the bed as the two males stared at one another.
Mordin broke the deadlock, saying, "Suggest moving conversation to my office." Hurrying over to the bed, he gave Shepard an injection despite her protest, then fussed over the turian boy. "Child still critical. Need to let him rest." After adjusting the child's regen frame setting, he hurried to the door, his hand hovering over the control as he turn back. "L'oeuf needs to get up, eat, have wounds treated. Might as well start now."
Sitting up the rest of the way she nodded, unable to suppress a disappointed sigh. She wanted to slam her arms down over her chest, stick out her lip, and refuse. Her heart—hell, every cell in her battered frame—insisted that it was too early to change everything over to business. She didn't want Garrus to stop looking at her like a gift from the spirits. She knew he'd support her regardless of how freakish a science experiment Cerberus turned her into, but she hated to let go of the fantasy so soon.
"L'oeuf?"
"Okay, Mordin. We'll be out in a second." She stared at him, making bug eyes in an attempt to silently communicate that she wanted him to bugger the hell off. After a good minute, he sighed, made a clucking sound, and left muttering under his breath about stubborn patients.
Garrus chuckled, pushing his chair back as he stood. "I guess we're being kicked out." He held his hand out to her, offering to help her down from the bed.
She wrapped her fingers around his and smiled her thanks as she slipped down onto tiptoes. She stiffened a little, surprised when he drew her in, hesitant but definitely easing her into an embrace. Chuckling, she grinned up at him, slipping her arms around his waist. "Good morning, and damn, this floor is freaking cold." She sobered, but held his gaze, hers warm and so soft that she worried a little that she gawked like a lovesick teen. Then his arms tightened around her and her worries fled.
"Thank you for coming last night. I know you must have just gotten back from taking on Cerberus." Resting her head against his chest, she listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart through the cotton scrubs he wore. "Did Mordin chase you into the shower, ranting about contamination and infection?" she asked, tugging gently at the loose cotton. "Or have you become a doctor as well as a C-Sec investigator, and an Archangel? Truly, a torin of all trades."
Garrus growled softly, his voice taking on a decidedly whiney note when he responded, "He wouldn't even let me put my underarmor back on."
"Yeah, Mordin is militant when it comes to germs." A long sigh eased her further into his arms, the last of her tension fleeing. "Thanks for the sacrifice to stay and watch out for me. I know how you love your armour. She kept her voice to a whisper, terrified of shattering the moment. Right then, she could have spent the rest of the day right there without uttering a word of complaint.
Garrus chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Where else would I be? Spirits, you scared the hell out of me when you answered my call last night. Of course I came." He lifted his shoulders, shrugging. "Not that I wouldn't have anyway, but …."
Her breathe caught, a soft hiccup. Oh. Of course he'd come, worried that something terrible had happened with her sobbing and freaking out like that. He'd always had her back, always would. "Sorry about the scare." She released him and backed away, curling her toes up to avoid the icy floor. As she turned, she saw Garrus's arms drop to his sides, his shoulders slumped.
"I've tried really hard to step away from who I was before the Normandy. It just caught up to me last night after taking out those bastards. I enjoyed it … enjoyed taking revenge for the suffering they'd put the kids through." She dragged the soft slippers out from under the bed and grumbled, needing to change the subject as the ghosts from the night before pressed close once more. Shit, the last thing he needed was for her to lose her shit again. "I can't believe Mordin makes me wear these things. It's hardly dignified."
Without looking at Garrus, not wanting to see pity in his eyes, she stepped around the end of the bed. Stopping next to the little guy, she caressed his head, then bent to press a soft kiss to his brow. "You sleep and get well, brave little torin. I'll be right outside if you need me."
Finally looking up at Garrus, she said, "I'm going to run to the head. Meet you in Mordin's office?"
Garrus lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, gulping a little as he swallowed: his tell when he's flustered or kicking himself. He bobbed his head and smiled, but it looked forced. Damn, all that easy intimacy, up in smoke. "Absolutely. I'll uh … do you want me to get the laptop set up for you?"
She forced a smile even though she mostly just wanted to run to the head, lock herself in a stall and either scream or cry.
No more crazy, dammit. You foist any more of your insanity on him, that's it. He won't walk away, but he'll only be staying because he feels sorry for the wreckage of his old commander.
"Yeah," she said, choking a little on the word. "I might as well find out as much as I can." She backed toward the door, turning at the last second to open it. Cots lined both walls of hallway on her right, a child sleeping on each. On one an asari slept sitting up, an arm wrapped around the two asari teens. On another a young turian twitched in his sleep, the torin sitting on a chair next to the bed reaching out to stroke a comforting hand over the youth's neck.
In the reception area, the bluff, sandy-haired, eternally hungry fellow slept in a chair. His head lolled over the backrest in a position he'd regret for days, his mouth wide and snoring at a decibel level that would be illegal anywhere but Omega. Despite appearing dead to the world, he managed to keep a pizza box gripped in his lap.
Shepard looked toward the desk and grinned at Nalah as she pointed to the sleeping man. Mouthing the words, she asked, "Is this one yours?"
The nurse nodded. "He's been waiting there for hours. Refused to go lay down just in case he missed giving you that pizza."
"Pizza angel?" a sleepy voice mumbled, drawing L'oeuf's attention from the reception desk. "Is that you?"
Grinning, she nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is. Thanks for the pie, Butler."
He grinned, in a sleep-drunken way that made her suspect he thought himself still dreaming. "I love you."
"On second thought," Nalah called loud enough to shove her husband the rest of the way into consciousness, "you can have him."
L'oeuf grinned as Butler's face turned a bright red. She leaned on one hip and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I don't know. I could use some help. Does he cook? Wash dishes? Tend goats?"
Nalah scoffed and rolled her eyes, exaggerating her exasperation. "He makes a bloody great mess and then thanks me for cleaning up after him by staying out until all hours with the team." She pressed her lips into a tight line, but her eyes sparkled with love and humor. "And lately, when he does come home, it's just to extol the glory of and pledge his devoted love to his pizza angel."
Butler blushed a deep crimson, forcing L'oeuf to hide her grin behind her hand. "He just looked so starved and waif-like that first day." She shook her head, aping deep regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to steal him away with my irresistible pizza wiles." Hanging her head, she slouched down into her robe and shoved her fists into the bottom of her pockets. "I … I swear that I didn't want to break up your marriage. I'll just go to the washroom and wallow in my shame now."
Leaving Butler stuttering and gasping, L'oeuf headed toward the head, winking at Nalah as she passed the desk. She had woken up feeling remarkably sane. It felt nice to have some quiet in her mind, particularly after her dream. Maybe the peace originated with the dream: she'd remembered dying and coming back.
And being tortured. Don't forget screaming silently inside, begging and crying in unfathomable agony until you passed out. Never forget the little kindness of … 'We can't risk anesthesia, her systems aren't stable enough. Don't worry, she's PVS; she can't feel a thing.'
Yeah, that would prove fairly difficult to forget considering the torture had driven her stark raving mad. Especially since she'd just finished chasing Garrus away again with her stupidity.
Shepard slunk into the washroom. Stopping at the sink, she leaned against the metal counter, staring at her reflection. "Yeah, that was quite the way to fuck up a perfectly good morning. No fucking joke, you stupid egg, you're not even sunny side up; you're the one that got dropped on the floor before it made it to the pan." Pushing off the vanity, she shook her head before turning away, slamming open the corner stall door.
She hiked up her sleepwear and flopped down on the toilet. "He's a turian, worried about his old commander. It's as deeply ingrained in him as flicking his mandibles, and you go reading all this crazy shit into it." Bracing her elbows against her thighs, she dropped her head into her hands. "You're too damn batshit for anyone to actually want to be with you. Just leave Garrus alone. Let him find someone he doesn't have to nurse maid."
"Talking to yourself never a good sign."
She bolted upright. "Sweet, fluffy lord, Mordin! Can't a woman even pee without an audience?"
She could hear his shrug when he replied, "Am doctor. Not interested in being a spectator to your waste elimination processes, although flow good, system functional." He crossed to the vanity. "Am here to give you medications." She heard him rattling around … judging by the smell, he was cleaning.
"Couldn't this wait until I didn't have my panties around my ankles and my nightgown around my neck?" She tidied herself up and peeked out through the space in the door. "Wash your hands and put on some gloves after cleaning that sink," she said as she eased the door open. Standing at the threshold, she stared him down. "Ah! Come on, get between those fingers, Doc." Craning her neck to peer at his hands. "Do salarians have fingernails? If so, you need to go get a brush."
When the doctor turned to stare at her through narrowed eyes, she offered him a guileless smile and shrug. "What?"
"Wash hands, take medication, eat, return to bed, heal." He rattled off the list while brandishing a very threatening-looking syringe.
She did as she was told despite dreading going across the clinic to sit shoulder to shoulder with Garrus as they read about the horrific Frankensteinian experiments and rebuilding Cerberus performed during her death. "He's going to pity me," she whispered, letting her hands go numb under the hot water.
"Archangel more deeply invested than mere concern for former commander," Mordin said, his voice unusually gentle. "Logical, tactical-minded. Not sort to sacrifice due to ill-conceived charity."
She turned off the water and looked up into the mirror, watching Mordin administer the shot to her reflection. "He said that you've seen some of what Cerberus did to me?" When he nodded, she took a deep breath. "And you think that you could finish their work?"
"Need more information on cybernetics ... methodology, but believe so." He stepped up beside her and turned to lean back against the vanity. "Why so reluctant to allow procedures?"
She turned to face him, mirroring his posture: hip pressed against the edge of the counter, arms crossed. "I felt it all, Mordin." Drawing in a deep, noisy breath through her nose, she shrugged. "Once they got my brain functioning, I wasn't awake, but I felt it all. I dreamed about it last night a little, but mostly I guess it just comes out as the monster in my dreams."
"Monstrous indeed." Mordin lifted his hand to his mouth, fingers curled, knuckles tapping against his chin. "Despite horror of experience, could provide invaluable insight into sensory awareness of coma patients."
Dry and bitter, her chuckle felt like coughing up a lungful of thistles. Trust Mordin to go straight for the fascinating research opportunity. "Yes, well, as I remember and as long as I remain this lucid, I'll be happy to record the experience for the journals, but it's why I don't want to go under again."
Mordin frowned, tapping his chin with a little more force. "When not 'this lucid', what is extent of awareness?"
She frowned and cocked her head a little, pushing into the counter's edge despite—or maybe because of the pain. "Are you asking if I realize I'm not lucid?" Letting out another thistle and nettle breath, she nodded. "It's chaos inside my head. When I do manage to grab an idea, it repeats like a stuck recording. The more simple and familiar the task, the easier it is to focus. Drawing, gardening, looking after my goats." Her forehead pulled down into her brows, the skin knotting between her eyes. "Which I need to go do soon."
She rolled her shoulders again. "So, yeah, I'm completely aware that I'm insane, Doc. I just deal with it the best I can."
Mordin paced, the speed of his crooked fingers tapping increasing with each round. "Need to continue repairs in stages. Need access to tissue cloning facilities ... decrease healing time. Definitely need more data." He made a disgruntled, walrus with sand up its nose, sound. "Cerberus only lead."
"Yeah." She pushed off the counter. "Garrus stole one of their computers. He wants me to see what's on it, so maybe I should go do that." Grabbing the salarian by the shoulders, she turned him around, ignoring his protests as she pushed him out the door.