The Nos Astra docks were the usual multi-species blur of shoppers and merchants. Liara stood out by the simple fact that she was standing still, looking unusually uncomfortable as the throng parted around her. Shepard didn't regret leaving the tense atmosphere of the Normandy behind. Miranda had been furious about her decision to abandon the Maitland mission, and her ire had a souring effect on the crew in general. The gleeful exception was Jack, who had been practically giddy with delight at the concept of putting one in Cerberus' collective eye.
"Shepard", Liara began as soon as Shepard was in range, stepping forward to rest her hand on the commander's arm, "I am so sorry to have missed your calls, I was working on a Shadow Broker lead."
"Its fine Liara," once they had passed the main interior docks, the air became muggy with heat, and Shepard shrugged out of her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder as she followed Liara to the skycar parking. "I don't expect you to drop everything to deal with this. Did you have any luck?" she added over the low grumble of the engine starting.
"Not yet," the coldness in Liara's voice as she skillfully steered the skycar into the bustle of the Nos Astra airways, made Shepard look at her sharply; it was hard to see the naive and timid archeologist in her now.
"So, this Lanastia clinic, what do you know about it?" Shepard tapped her fingers anxiously against her thigh.
"Matriarch Lanastia is a highly respected doctor. Normally a Matriarch of her status would have returned to Thessia to teach and practice on her homeworld; however she chose to open a multi-species clinic here on Illium. She is well known for her alternate treatment methods." Liara pulled the skycar from the main traffic lanes, swinging north until the glint of the distant ocean could be seen. "The clinic specializes in rehabilitative patients, that is" Liara clarified, "it deals with patients with acquired psychiatric or physical issues, rather than genetic disorders. It is considered a medical facility rather than an institution," she added, "I really think it was the best option Shepard, I did a fair bit of research and..."
"I know you did your best with this Liara," Shepard interrupted, "and I'm grateful, Miranda said you paid for Garrus' admittance?"
"Do not concern yourself with that Shepard, I make a better living than I did as an archeologist, " Liara said with a slight smile as the guidance system gave a slight bleek and the aircar began a sharp decent.
The sleek, modern construction of glass and steel was not at all what Shepard had been expecting. Somehow vids had never progressed far enough to portray psychiatric centers as anything but brooding, gothic structures of old stone, sequestered behind forbidding iron gates. As she stepped from the aircar, Shepard craned her neck to look up at the reflective exterior glass, the first stirrings of fear replacing the fretful worry that had been churning in her gut since the docks.
The walkway was lined with tasteful, understated water sculptures, between each flew the flags of the galaxies' varied governments, the colorful banners stirring slightly in a soft breeze. The door however, flashed a red 'locked' symbol when they approached, a soothing automatic voice informing them that the Lanastia clinic visiting hours were between 10AM and 3PM, and to please return during standard visiting hours.
"Oh!" Liara fidgeted, looking embarrassed, "I am sorry Shepard, I never thought to check..."
Shepard considered going away for less than a second, then swung back her leg and angrily kicked the door, ignoring Liara's shocked exclamation. The electronic lock flickered, the automatic voice disintegrating into a garble of static; Shepard gave the door another teeth rattling boot, watching in satisfaction as a yellow security icon flashed into view above the lock. It was a testament to the in- house security system that they responded fast enough that Shepard hardly had time to step back, folding her arms, before the door slid open.
A harried looking human stared out at Shepard, her square face set in an expression of frustrated outrage. Angry brows furrowed under thick auburn bangs as she stared at the unwelcome newcomers; behind her, a turian with the emblem of a private security firm on his shoulder, fixed Shepard with a disapproving glare.
"I cant wait to hear the explanation on this," the woman sighed, resting her hands on ample hips.
"My name is Commander Shepard, I apologize for the ruckus, but I've come a long way to visit a friend here." Seeing that that statement hadn't made any kind of positive impact, she added: "I'm also a Council Spectre, and I would be happy to use that authority to access this facility, if that's what it takes."
"I know who you are commander,and I'm honestly surprised that you would consider yourself exempt from the rules that protect our patients."
"Look, I don't.." Shepard went to step forward, when the turian guard stepped up smartly, giving her a warning shake of his crested head, hand resting on the grip of a hip-holstered pistol, "...want to start trouble," she finished awkwardly. It took almost conscious effort not to drop her hand to her own weapon, and only the realization that a shootout in the parking lot wouldn't be beneficial to anyone, stopped her.
The awkward standoff continued for a long moment, until the light thump of footsteps interrupted them, and a small, slim asari padded into view. "Its alright Velin," she reached up to pat the turian on the shoulder, "commander Shepard is welcome here anytime."
"If you're sure, matriarch," the turian gave Shepard another suspicious glare as he stepped back, yellow marked mandibles pressed flat to his jaw.
Shepard couldn't prevent her eyes widening in surprise, the diminutive asari had none of the stately grace that was usually associated with matriarchs. Her speckled scalp was only of a height with Shepard's jaw, and she moved with a restless kind of energy. Her age showed in her face, lending a kind of warm dignity to her eyes, and a hint of steel to the line of her lightly freckled jaw. Dressed as she was in a simple geometric patterned tunic and pants, if it were not for the security guard's obvious deference, Shepard would almost have pegged her as a visitor, possibly even a patient.
"Matriarch...Lanastia?" Shepard glanced over at Liara, amused that she seemed as nonplussed as Shepard was.
"Commander Shepard, its a rare pleasure to meet you, I've been hoping you would come." Before Shepard could even begin to respond, the matriarch spun on her heel to greet Liara, "Dr. T'Soni, I am glad to meet you face to face, and would like to thank you again for selecting this facility. I do have much to discuss with commander Shepard. Haley here," Lanastia gestured to the human nurse, who was looking grumpy as the situation rapidly escaped her control, "will show you around. I would recommend stopping in the cafeteria and asking for some laoun tea, it comes all the way from Thessia, it's exquisite."
"Please follow me commander," without even pausing to see if she was being followed, Lanastia was striding through the door. Giving Liara a slightly resigned shrug, Shepard sprung forward to follow her.
The inside of the clinic was unlike anything Shepard had seen, it seemed to be constructed like a wheel, with the central hub being an expansive and diverse garden atrium, with fully grown trees reaching up to the upper stories. Hallways radiated outward like spokes, some lined with doors, others opening up into larger, open rooms and courtyards. Around the garden area, small bench lined niches provided some manner of calm privacy, and it was to one of these seats that Lanastia led Shepard, gesturing for her to take a seat.
"I know you are here to visit your turian friend, but I do ask you bear with me a moment," at Shepard's nod, the matriarch perched on the edge of her seat, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knee. "Turians are uniquely difficult species to treat, they do exceptionally well with purely physical rehab, partly because of their resilient physiology, and partly due to their drive to be 'useful'. They require little of the coercion sometimes required with physiotherapy patients, their own societal motivation provides that quite well. Psychological damage however," Lanastia raised somber eyes toward Shepard, and she felt her stomach turn to icy dread, "is very difficult to treat. As a general species, turians do not respond well to mental trauma; and I'm afraid your friend Garrus is no exception." Raising a delicate hand to forestall Shepard's inevitable questions, she continued, "theirs is a society that advocates personal responsibility and duty above all else. Individuals who perceive their trauma to be rooted in guilt or shame, will often remove themselves as a way of recompense to those they have wronged; similarly those who view their mental issues as a burden to those around them will suicide to prevent themselves from interrupting the duties of others."
"Where is Garrus?" Shepard couldn't even begin to keep the bleak dread out of her voice, although she managed to school her face into an impassive mask, screaming a howl of grief in her mind.
"When Garrus was brought here he was alternating between states of catatonic shock, and outbursts of defensive, and self destructive aggression. Ms. Lawson explained you had been injured in combat, and that your state had acted as a trigger for the further fragmentation of Garrus' psyche?" Lanastia quirked a questioning look at Shepard, who nodded.
"Apparently I flatlined at one point," Shepard clenched her hands around the edges of the bench, willing her hands to stop shaking. "But I was fine! Chakwas, Miranda...they would have told him that."
"Oh, they did, in fact both your ship's doctor and a young psychologist stayed here for days, helping as best they could. The problem is, Garrus was simply beyond comprehending at that point, I'm not even convinced he understood, never mind believed, what they were trying to tell him."
"So what are you saying? Is he..."
"Have you ever tried to walk into an ocean during a storm commander?" The unexpected question made Shepard frown, frustration building, she was just opening her mouth to ask what the point was when Lanastia stalled her by continuing. "The first few waves will make you stagger, but eventually one will sweep you off your feet, and then you are tumbled under. Every time you struggle to the surface, another wave will slam you down before you can quite get a breath. After a while, you cannot tell up from down, your lungs are filled with water, and you simply cannot fight the current any longer."
"Does this have a point?" Shepard grated harshly, "what does this have to do with Garrus?"
"His mind is like that ocean, commander. Garrus has experienced things no living creature should have to endure, and he is quite literally drowning in those memories; you were his driftwood, so to speak, something to cling to against a tide that should have, by all rights, swept him under. Without you, he did what any tired swimmer would do, he struggled against the waves as best he could, and when the tides became to strong, he simply gave up and let them take him."
"What does that mean?" Shepard asked hollowly, sickness rising in her, bile burning in the back of her throat, "Is he...gone?"
"Physically no, but six days ago he fell into a kind of catatonic coma. He is completely unresponsive to any outside stimuli, none of the treatments we have tried have had any effect." Shaking her head, Lanastia reached over to give Shepard's rigid hand a sympathetic squeeze, "I am sorry commander, I have some slight hope that I may be able to use you to reach him, provided you are willing...if not..."
" I want to see him," Shepard was aware her voice was flat, her mouth and mind similarly numb. "Right now."
"Of course commander, if you follow this hallway, "the matriarch pointed out a south-facing 'spoke', "Garrus is in room sixty-three, I'll give you some time alone...and again, I am so sorry, commander. I truly wish I had better news."