Truth and Consequences
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Shepard doesn't stop him, and he doesn't understand why. Shepard/Garrus, mid-ME2.
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Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belongs to Bioware.
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She tried to convince him not to shoot Sidonis, but her words sounded half-hearted, even to him. When it came down to it, she stepped aside and let him take the shot without protest.
When they'd met back up after the incident, she gave him a businesslike nod, and got into the shuttle without a word. It didn't bother Garrus, he'd wanted some time to himself anyway, but he knew it wasn't like her. She was silent the entire ride back to the Normandy.
Once they boarded the ship, he headed to his place in the main battery, knowing she would seek him out eventually. She always did, whether he wanted her to or not.
When he heard the door glide open behind him, he knew it was her. "Do you have time to talk?"
He turned from the terminal and gave her a shrug. "Just running some standard checks. It can wait."
She moved closer, and the door slid closed behind her. "About earlier," she began, but he cut her off.
"You don't need to worry about me, Shepard," he assured her. "This is over. It won't be a problem again." It hadn't given him the satisfaction he'd hoped for, but he'd seen it through. He hoped the spirits of his team could rest easy now that Sidonis had died for his crimes. He hoped that he could rest easy now, though on that account he wasn't so sure.
Shepard, who was usually so astute, didn't notice any of his uncertainty, or at least didn't acknowledge it. All she did was give him a quick nod and look away.
Watching her, Garrus spoke. "I was wondering something," he began hesitantly, and Shepard sunk into a listening stance, arms loosely crossed and weight balanced back on one leg. He cleared his throat uncomfortably before continuing. "Why didn't you try to stop me?"
She met his gaze levelly. "I told you not to kill him." She wasn't lying—not outright—and yet Garrus knew her too well to believe what she implied.
He took a step towards her, beginning to feel angry at her lack of honesty. "You and I both know that you weren't really trying. I know you too well to have expected anything but a fight, but you barely put up a front of resistance," he argued. His eyes bored into hers. "I want to know why."
"You want to know the truth." It wasn't phrased as a question, but Garrus answered it as one.
"Yes," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.
She broke their gaze first, moving to the railing that separated them from the rest of the battery chamber. She stared out over it as she finally answered, her voice level and emotionless. "Because I know what it's like to want revenge."
Her fingers gripped the railing harder as she continued in an eerily calm voice. "Garrus, if I knew where the slavers were that killed my family, I would hunt them down and make them suffer." Her words shocked him. She had always been an advocate for sticking to the rules, doing the right thing no matter the circumstance. She demanded as much from her team, or had until he'd asked her to step aside and let him shoot.
She took a deep, shaky breath before she continued, her emotions beginning to creep into her voice. "Every time I kill a slaver or a mercenary, it feels a bit like revenge," she confessed. "Even more so if they're batarian," she spat out bitterly, and he knew how hard it was for her to admit it. She always made such a point of fairness, of giving everyone a chance. This was so unlike everything he knew of her—everything anyone knew of her.
Garrus practically held his breath as he waited for her to continue. "I envy you, Garrus," she told him as she turned towards him, her eyes filled with defeat, regret, and longing. "Whether you call it justice or revenge, you've got closure that I'll never find."
Garrus opened his mouth, feeling as if he should say something, yet fumbling to find anything to say. "For what it's worth, Shepard, I—I'm sorry."
She didn't respond, but took a few steps towards him, looking him in the eye. "So now you know," she said simply. "I couldn't take from you the thing I want so badly myself, no matter how wrong."
She put a hand on his shoulder as she moved to walk past him. "Maybe I failed you," she said softly, looking at him as she passed. "If I did, I'm sorry."
Her hand slid from his shoulder, and Garrus turned to watch her walk away. He stared after her until the doors shut behind her, closing him in with his own thoughts.
He wasn't sure how to process this.
She wasn't as perfect as he'd thought she was. And while it was difficult to stomach, this realization wasn't as world-shattering as it could have been. He had already learned, two years ago, that she was not invincible.
What was harder to believe was that she had spoken of this at all.
Though she could make nearly anyone pour our their thoughts and emotions to her, she rarely opened up about herself. She hardly ever spoke about her past or her feelings, deflecting questions and delving into the problems of others to avoid talking about her own.
A variety of emotions warred within him. Sadness, for how much pain Shepard had suffered in her life. Gratitude, that she'd allowed him to make his own decision about Sidonis. Pride, that he'd been the one chosen to share her confidence. But that wasn't all.
Something else within him struggled to be named and defined, a feeling that he'd purposefully pushed aside again and again became he knew better, damn it.
He pushed it aside one more time and turned back to his terminal, eager to focus his thoughts on firing algorithms and launch sequences, anything but her.
Anything but her.
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