-Garrus-
When he wakes, he's nowhere he had expected, nowhere he even knows.
Sitting up, he finds himself sitting on a bench in a large building, the ceiling high and curving over the many over benches like his own. He looks at the ceiling above, so high, it seems, that mist has begun to form to blanket the weather-worn and falling wood of walls and ceiling. There are windows along the walls, colorful yet covered in grime from years of being unkempt and abandoned as well as more than half shattered along the stained rugs lining the walls.
He stands and looks around, taking in the dusty room, wondering how he's found himself in a place of such disrepair. Walking up the long, center aisle to a leaning podium, he rumbles in question when he comes across an actual book. Dust lays thick on the pages and he has to use his gloved hand to push it away, but, even when he manages to see writing, the words make no sense, the letters nothing but gibberish that fades from his mind as soon as his eyes scan over them.
This place… This place feels familiar, but so different than anything he's experienced. He feels like he's in some still, dead dream, a place lost to time.
I know this place…, he thinks as he begins to leave the podium to walk down the aisle, towards the warped, cracked open doors. But how do I know it? I've never been here, but I feel like it's not the building I've been but-
His thoughts stop short as he forces open the doors and looks around. He does know this place, but not because he's experienced.
Because she's experienced it.
"Jane?" He calls for her, trilling in worry as he quickly takes the short steps down to the old Earthen street and looks, trying to see through the fog that seems as thick as a solid wall of shifting white and grays.
Not concerned with how he seems to be having a nightmare so similar to the way she describes hers, he starts to walk, turning into a hurried run. When he breaks through the fog and cold, icy rain like needles on his face, he is nowhere but before the very same building.
All he's managed to do is tire himself out and he hates that helplessness he now shares with what his wife must feel each and every time she dreams up this nightmare. As he pants puffs of steam from his mouth, his tongue numb from the chill, he stops to look around, to try and see what Jane has said the fog always 'tries to show'.
He does not see, but he hears the sound of footsteps not far ahead of his position. Humming in indecision, he decides he has no choice in the matter of what he will do – one way follows the steps and the only will probably only bring him back here – and takes off for the steps, trying to catch the owner.
Then he sees her, his wife. Or, at least, he hopes it's her.
She falls on her knees and pants, back heaving as she runs a hand through her entangled hair and he can't help but flick his mandibles at the near exact situation he was just in mere moments before. Slowly, he approaches her. "Jane?"
The woman he hopes is his mate tenses, looks back at him with wide, worried eyes. He knows her fear, knows her thoughts. He'd have to be deaf and stupid to ignore the fact that she only has two things that could put that fear in her eyes, something concerning himself or their children. And this nightmare usually includes both.
She fears I will turn into a monster before her eyes if she tries to touch me… and I'm not sure I won't, he thinks as he crouches down just out of arm's length, reassuring rumble in his throat. Granted, it could be a false assurance, but he has nothing else to give her, nothing to prove to this Jane that he wouldn't let that fear come true if he had the power.
It's at the same time that he sees her eyes widen, growing wet with unshed tears and notices he no longer has air coming from his lungs to steam in the cold air. From there, he can no longer control the chill in his body, the numbness turning into a burning itch that starts from within and spreads out, his limbs somehow beyond his control, but burning with an internal flame.
Groaning in pain, he starts to feel something move within him, something alive and slithering from his gizzard and chest. He chokes as it slides into his throat and he can taste it, metallic from his own blood, and feels the smooth, segmented surface with his tongue.
Just before his vision starts to fade around the edges, he looks to her with a keen – his traitorous body no longer able to speak with the mechanical cording with his mouth – and silently apologizes, cursing himself for finding her in this place just to put her through seeing him like this. The last thing he is able to see with his failing eyes is the tattered flesh of his hand over sleek metal as he reaches for her, wanting to feel her for a last time.
He screams an agonized, mechanical scream when he feels her pull him into her arms, hating that, in her own nightmare, she has to be the one to comfort him.
Coming awake with a gasp, he jerks up, ignoring the irritating pull on his hide from medical equipment securing him to the now rapidly beating monitoring system. Chakwas rushes to his side, assuring him he's only in the MedBay, that they've taken quite the hit on Despoina, but his only attention goes to his mate.
He gently pushes aside the Doctor and yanks off the medical equipment, rushing to Jane's bedside. Purring, he presses his forehead to hers and uses his thumbs to wipe at the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
"It's okay," he whispers, trying to soothe her back to consciousness. "I'm here… It's just a dream."
He doesn't see the look on Chakwas' face as she moves to the monitor on her desk, concern on her face. All he sees is Jane, his mate and love, as her face tenses and eyes open, glistening in unshed tears. Immediately, he kisses her, swallows any and all words of questioning his health and physical state.
He knew it was bad, the things she'd dream, but he was never there to witness it himself, to see how it breaks her each and every time. How she's stayed together is something he can't take full credit for because, even with someone by her side, she could have broken weeks ago and he'd never have faulted her.
"I dreamed again."
Her voice is weak, but he hears her all the same, nodding in understanding. Oh, the understanding he now has. "I know… I'm sorry."
She frowns in confusion as he helps her up into a sitting position. Before she can ask, however, Chakwas comes to them, a look of concern on her face as she brings Garrus a chair. It's good she has, he considers, as he feels so weak and his limbs are sore from whatever put him out of duty for as long as he's been in the Bay now that the adrenaline is draining away.
"Shepard, Garrus? How are you two feeling?" Chakwas lifts first his mate's chin to quickly flick a light over each eye, then doing the same to him.
"How long were we out?" Jane asks as the doctor checks his pulse now, giving him a look that clearly admonishes him for that burst from bed.
Setting aside her tools, Chakwas exhales heavily and frowns. "About sixteen hours-"
"Holy shit."
"Yes, well," she continues as if used to the interruptions from his wife. "I've been monitoring your brainwaves as you both slept and… I've noticed something very strange."
He frowns at that and rumbles in question as Jane speaks for the both of them. "Bad strange?"
"It doesn't affect your physical health and, when you woke about six hours ago, you were lucid enough to answer simple questions to test your brain functions." She smiles and adds before they can ask. "And that's a very good sign that your time down in that mech did not leave lasting effects. I suspect you don't remember because of your sheer exhaustion and not all of that is from this last mission."
They look away from that pointed look, he dropping his eyes with a guilty flick of his mandibles and she a huff and look at something very interesting on the wall. "And," he finally says as he looks up to a woman that treats them more like children than patients – which isn't that bad considering she's the woman making sure they make it out of and into the next battle with the work she does patching them up. "What is so interesting about our brainwaves?"
"To say it plainly, they're different."
"Different how," Jane asks with a raised brow, crossing her arms. "After Eden Prime, you told me the same thing, but I have a feeling this is different."
The doctor nods. "It is. Doctor Michel," he has to fight the chuckle at Jane's bristling at that name, "and I have been monitoring you on shifts, seeing if there's a pattern." She opens her Tool and types something, the other doctor entering not moments later. "Do you have the last of the brainwave activity charts?"
Michel nods and comes to them, carrying a datapad and handing it to Chakwas. "It's as we suspected, Doctor," she says in her heavily accented voice that Garrus' own translator still has problems with before turning to them. "Your brains show the exact pattern at times, almost as if you are in sync."
"Not only that, but we've noticed that, alone, we can chart higher brain activity than a large percent of the population. I don't know about you, Garrus, but, for certain, I can say that whatever you experienced down on Despoina has altered your brain, Shepard."
Jane frowns at that while he growls, wishing he was back down there with the damn Leviathan, there to show them just what he thinks of their 'mind altering' they are suffering. Instead, he asks, "Is this altered patterns going to affect us negatively?"
"Quite the opposite."
Chakwas nods to the younger woman's reassurance, but explains. "We'd still like to monitor you both occasionally to make sure there are no lasting effects besides this… unique development. And I suggest you both rest." She gives a pointed look and Garrus gets that maternal aura from her again. "I won't like, we will have to learn this as we proceed."
"Hear that, Garrus? We're trailblazers."
He snorts at her smirk, shaking his head with an amused rumble. "Could be worse."
"Commander?"
"Yes, Traynor?"
"Admiral Hackett is requesting an audience via vidcomm.
Sighing, his mate slowly gets to her feet and, if her hand supporting her weight on the bed is anything to go by, she feels just as drained as he does. "I'll be right there."
The intercom shuts off with a click and Chakwas scowls. "You aren't going up there alone."
"I'll go," Garrus assures as he stands too, muscles never this sore except when he was young and first learning how to wear armor. "Just give me a second."
"Yeah, met too… feel like shit."
"That's the effects of when you dove so deep," Chloe explains as she, just so, happens to go to him first. He silently wills her away, but she doesn't budge from his side, even at the audible crack of her knuckles as she clenches her hand tightly into a fist. If she were at her best, they'd be minus a doctor, Garrus is sure. "We're lucky that the mech you were in was able to keep away most of the effects of the rapid pressure change, but muscle soreness is still one. Added to your long stay in bed and it will take some time to completely feel back to normal."
Chakwas, thankfully, ushers Michel away to let him walk by himself under the guise of handing her the datapad of their charts. He rumbles in silent thanks, knowing it'll be left to interpretation by both, and takes his wife's hand to calm her.
"How long will the soreness take affect?" He asks with a concerned hum. They can't be out of the fight for long, not at a time like this, in a war like this. "We still have a war to win, Doctor."
She smiles and pats his shoulder. "Don't worry. Walking around will help, but I suggest you stay off the ground missions until you can actually handle yourself without needing to lean on anything." Lifting a brow, she motions the two of them almost hanging on the other, their bodies unconsciously attracted to fight support in the other.
"Right," Jane says, voice dripping with sarcasm that makes Chakwas sigh. "We'll be sure to tell the Reapers we're on break." Looking to him, she smiles. "Ready to head up to Hackett and tell him what a serious fucked up deal with the Leviathan is?"
He smirks and rumbles. "Do I ever say no to an offer like that?"
Hand and hand, they, so very slowly, make their way up to the CIC, through the War Room, and into the Comm Room. Garrus takes a step back to let her lead, it being her people's military and all, but is willing to step in whenever the Admiral needs to be reminded who is on the front line while he and his fleets protect the Crucible being built.
"Commander," the Admiral takes a parade rest and nods in acknowledgement towards the Turian in the room, "Praetor Vakarian." He looks back to Jane. "I've read Doctors Chakwas and Michel's reports as well as your ground teams'. I'd like to hear just what happened down there on Despoina. What did you find?"
"The Leviathans exist, but they aren't Reapers." The Admiral nods for her to continue, listening. "They created an Intelligence to find the solution for stars dying so the people they had as mindless slaves could continue to serve them."
"It's safe to say that the reason for the stars' deaths is dark energy, as realized in our own time," Garrus adds from his side of the room. "The Leviathan hadn't bothered to look into it themselves at the time, but there's already been one case where a star has aged faster than it should. The Quarians have the data from a planet in that system, Haestrom."
"I'll have one of our science team request the data," Hackett says as he shifts from his stance and brings a hand to his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. "How do the Reapers come into play?"
"Because the Leviathan makes Reapers out of civilizations in order to carry out whatever sort of 'solution' it has found and is trying to fulfill. The damn idiots didn't even know what that solution was before it started harvesting their species into a Reaper."
"Your peoples' reports spoke of a new form of Indoctrination."
Seeing Jane frown in thought, trying to remember, he steps forward. "We don't know exactly how the Reapers do it, but the Leviathan use an artifact that emits low frequencies of sound and light to control those around it. We figure that's how they can take down a Reaper, so long as it is within range of either the Leviathan or their artifacts."
"Can this power be harnessed? Will they fight in the war?"
"With all due respect, sir," Garrus interrupts, not liking the thought of anyone trying to use the Leviathan as a weapon, not with the obvious views of superiority the species has over all others. "The Leviathan can't be trusted. They have already, outright, admitted to enslaving previous species and are ready to do it again once the Reapers are taken care of. All we need is to let them get into our ranks and rip us apart from in inside."
Jane nods and looks to her Admiral, crossing her arms. "You want our opinion? Find the most primitive way you can to destroy them. Hell, strap nukes to an asteroid and blast that thing into Despoina's atmosphere and let gravity do the rest. Whatever you do, don't let the Alliance or anyone trust those bastards. Destroy any and all of those orbs and never look back."
Admiral Hackett thinks on that before returning to his military's parade rest and nodding tersely. "Very well, Commander, Praetor. Your reports will be invaluable to the Alliance. Everyone is already calling what we have from your crew the Leviathan Codex."
"Let's hope that codex ends with an entry of their extinction," she adds, but it doesn't seem to distract from the man's stride.
"There is one more thing, Commander." She raises a brow in question and nods in 'go ahead'. "I have ordered the Normandy into dry dock on the Citadel, you are on your way to the station and should be arriving soon according to your communications location."
"Sir, we're in the middle of-"
"I understand, Commander, but the Normandy was still in the middle of a being refurbished before she left Earth. We need everybody at their best and that includes ship and crew. You and your crew are all on shore leave and that's an order, Commander."
Closing her eyes, she sighs in frustration, irritation radiating off her in waves, but Garrus actually agrees with the man, seeing the need for some relaxing considering that Chakwas just pulled them off ground missions. It's why he answers for her when he says, "Understood, Admiral."
He ignores the slight glare as Hackett nods, reaching for the command to end the call before pausing. "Admiral Anderson has also passed on an order of his own. He has an apartment on the Wards. You are to report there and 'enjoy your leave'."
The comm goes silent, leaving them looking to the other in surprise. She mouths 'apartment?' just as he shrugs, not knowing what to do with that kind of invitation either. Of course, it's not like he's about to deny it, not when they have the perfect chance to be with their children off the ship without fear of being overheard or seen by prying eyes. A whole apartment to themselves? They'd be crazy to say no.
So they don't. Instead, they head to their Cabin where Tali and Ilden watch the twins and pry the babies from the young Quarian's hands to get them and some things packed for the stay. At first, Tali is all pouts and frustration, but at the sound of shore leave, she is gone in a flash, dragging away the young Drell to get their own things ready for the instant they are released onto the Citadel.
Garrus isn't sure which will be worst on the Citadel, the Normandy's crew on shore leave of the war, but he's definitely ready to see as he and Jane find the nearest skycar when they are finally on the station. Stuffing the duffels holding their very sparse collection of civvies and armor and weapons crates into the cargo hatch – because they would never be without a gun or reliable armor even on shore leave – they gently take their most precious cargo, the tiny carrier soon to be getting too small for the growing babies, now longer than Jane's forearms but still small enough for him to at least fit one in his cowl at a time.
With the carrier hugged to his wife's chest, they travel through the Wards, deeper into the more luxurious districts and deeper, through shops he had only ever been able to see thanks to his work at C-Sec. Sure, he remembers taking Jane to a show at a theater they pass, but even then, the skycar flies deeper until they finally begin to slow.
"The Silversun Strip," Jane says in near silent awe. "Holy shit. Anderson lives here?"
"Now you're making me feel bad," he jokes. "You're saying our lavish Captain's Quarters isn't good enough for my queen?"
She snorts and lifts a brow. "If I'm the queen, you're the jester."
"Ouch." He chuckles and takes her hand as they finally arrive at what must be their destination, Tiberius Towers. Rumbling in amazement, he looks up at the ever rising levels, sure it ends somewhere in the simulated darkness of this section of the Wards, as if in permanent night which would fit with the much needed environment for the Silver Coast Casino, the largest venue and biggest financial supporter of the area.
"What level are we on?"
Checking his Tool for the access, he hums as he reads. "Level forty-six, room two."
"Well, what do you say? We see what a hell hole this place actually is," she asks with a happy smile and squeezes his hand, the other cradling their babies' carrier.
They can return to the transport later to get their things because it's not like anyone can get into their most valuable possessions, anyways, thanks to the heavily encrypted locks on the crates and Spectre grade biometric locks on their weapons. Right now, Garrus knows that his mate shares in his idea of just getting into the apartment and relaxing, living like a normal couple with young children, even if only for a very short time before something calls them away – which, even on shore leave, is bound to happen.
As soon as they step into the apartment, as soon as the doors shut behind them, they forgo looking around, at least for now, to set the carrier down and remove their gurgling children. He takes their daughter and she their son, kicking the carrier to the side of the door to deal with later, before finally taking a look around.
"There are too many windows," is the first thing he thinks and says, growling and holding Cassia tighter. "Can you image the easy target we'd make to someone with even half our skill?"
She snorts and reflexively turns her back to the window, shielding Damocles like a true mother. "We'll find a way to fix them if this is something that lasts." Lasts longer than this war.
He nods and looks around, ignoring the blaring defensive flaws of the windows and complete lack of cover along the bottom level despite the bar and destructible couches. Even the wall was decorative, doing nothing but cutting the room into the semblance of two.
Up above was a nice perch if not for the even worse lack of cover from the railing with nothing but a corner on one side and an open stairway on the other. What lay behind the upper floor's wall, he doesn't know, but he hopes that that part of the apartment at least doesn't have windows like this side.
"What are you thinking in that thick skull of yours?"
Looking down at her from his scanning, he doesn't hesitate in answering, "This place need better defenses."
Rolling her eyes, she actually nods. "Saying it needs better defenses would insinuate that it has any. But you're not allowed to use your leave creating defenses for this apartment, you hear me?"
He rumbles and flicks a mandible in his own version of an eye roll and she flicks his nose, making him yelp at the sudden sting and clamp a hand on his nose. "What was that for?"
She chuckles and leans up to kiss his nose once he removes his hand. "Relax," she says softly with a warm smile. "Put the Praetor, Spectre, and Archangel away for just one leave, alright?"
Smiling, he purrs and nods. "So long as you do the same."
"Always," she promises when the comm channel beside the door begins to chime. Raising a brow in intrigue at him because there's not supposed to be anyone but the owner that knows of this place and who lives here, she heads to it and taps the answer. "Hello?"
The image of the very man they owe this beautiful apartment, defensive flaws and all, to smiles as soon as he sees them, eyes lighting up when they lock on the twins in their arms. "Good to see the four of you have made it alright. How are you doing?"
"Fighting and winning, so far," Jane chuckles, trying to lighten the air, and the man cracks a smile.
"I see the twins haven't made you tear your hair out." His eyes meet Garrus' and he nods with a friendly smile. "I'm glad to have you hear. I want you to have this apartment. Take it off my hands."
"We can't really-"
"Now this isn't up for debate, Vakarian," he mock scolds. "You need a place that's home, not just a cabin on the Normandy. A place you can take your children and recharge, relax, and not have to worry. Kahlee wanted us to settle down there, but the thing is, the longer I'm on Earth, the less I can see myself leading."
"That's just because of the war," Jane says with a confused frown. "Once this is over, you'll need a place."
He shakes his head. "I've never liked loose ends." Anderson chuckles and motions the baby in her arms with his chin. "And you'd be doing me a favor by not having to worry about where the heroes of our galaxy are going to live with their two young children."
Taking his words to heart, hearing the tone of no arguments, even in a human's voice, Garrus unconsciously ducks his head in silent agreement while Jane chews her lip. Neither is known for their ability to take from others, especially when they don't feel like it's earned or necessary, but isn't the Admiral right? It is not right to think about having a place safe for Damocles and Cassia – well, safe once he adjusts some things.
"Thank you, sir." Garrus looks up and sees his wife smiling at the older human.
Nodding his agreement to her words, he too says, "We won't regret this, Admiral."
The man simply shrugs and gives them a mock stern look. "And make a room a nursery, dammit. The place is yours now." They chuckle and nod, Jane rubbing their son's back as he clings to her shirt and Cassia, ever the quiet, observant one, simply watches the bright image on the screen. "Okay. Good. Been meaning to do that for a while. I'll talk to you two soon."
"Watch yourself out there," Jane replies with a smirk. "Anything happens to you, Kahlee Sanders will be on your ass."
Anderson chuckles "Good to see you haven't changed, Shepard. You both be careful and do some damage for me."
