Chapter 17: Fracture
Normandy SR2. Aftermath of encounter with Ashley Williams at the conclusion of Priority: Horizon. CW: alcohol as a coping tool. Published 7/15/22, last updated 7/18/22.
Care warning: alcohol as a coping tool.
The comm room door cycled open and Taylor came out. Shepard didn't.
Fucking Williams.
It was nearly a minute before she emerged. Garrus straightened off the wall. Lawson locked her hands behind her back. The commander stopped, gaze flicking over them.
"XO. Gunnery Officer. Appreciate your help out there today. That was a pretty fraught assignment and you both went above and beyond the call."
She leaned against the frame and crossed her arms.
"The Illusive Man's lookin' for a way to get us through the Omega-4 Relay. In the meantime, we've got three more dossiers to chase. Closer to home, I know you know this, but this is a dangerous mission. I'm gonna do my best to get you both out safe, but there's a chance that none of us will make it. Any personal business—debts to settle, air to clear, whatever's keepin' you up at night—I'm asking you to see to it now. Need shore leave, I'll grant it. Need backup, I'll give it. We're walking into hell and right now, nothing's more critical to our survival than your peace of mind."
"I'll let you know if I think of anything, Commander," he said.
"Likewise," said Miranda. "For now, I recommend that we rest. We can review those dossiers and decide next steps tomorrow, after we've all had an opportunity to unwind."
Shepard nodded. "Sounds good. Get some R&R, you two. I'm off to my quarters."
She clapped him on the shoulder and left.
They looked at one another.
"That was a very convincing performance," Lawson commented. "And yet I don't believe it."
"Not for a second." The shuttle ride back had been silent for the first time in weeks. The commander had closed her eyes, same as always, but he would bet money she hadn't been asleep. "Wish it hadn't been Williams. Or anyone from the old crew. Or from the Alliance, for that matter."
"I wish that too. It felt like we were making progress."
"We were. I think we will again." He thought of the Collectors' ship, vanishing into atmo with the humans they'd tried to save. Of Ash, tearing open the old wounds she knew because they'd served together, and walking back into the life Shepard hadn't left by choice. "Just…not today."
Lawson activated her omnitool and tapped a few keys. "I'll apprise the doctor of what happened and send instructions to the crew to hold reports and questions for the commander until tomorrow. I don't sense it would be productive for Shepard to have contact with anyone from Cerberus right now."
"You're not wrong, though I don't know if anything would be productive."
She shook her head. "I'm going to have a shower—try to wash the stink of this bloody mission off me. I suggest you do the same."
"Yeah. I'll do that. Maybe check up on the commander if she'll let me."
"Of course. Until tomorrow, Vakarian."
"'Til then, XO."
He squared away his kit, cleaned up, refueled. Checked his omnitool for messages. After an hour of radio silence he went to port observation.
The room looked deserted, though that generally didn't mean much. He took a seat at the bar.
"Give me a hand, Goto," he said. "I'm picking some poison for a friend."
Kasumi decloaked behind the counter. "Is it you? Because it's pretty sad to call yourself your own friend, G. And that's speaking as someone who spends a lot of time alone."
"It's not me, though I'll need a bottle of something for myself too. The stronger the better."
She reached under the bar and set a bottle of dextro single malt on the counter. He inspected the label: Lagavulin D, 16 year, bottled 2169 CE in Scotland on Earth.
"Haven't tried it, but looks good to me."
She rested her elbows on the countertop. "So how's Shep?"
"Who says I'm asking for Shepard?"
"Come on, you were there. That Williams woman didn't exactly roll out the welcome wagon. 'Why didn't you contact me even though you were dead?' 'You've turned your back on everything we stood for!' 'I'm an Alliance soldier and you're working for the enemy.' Blah, blah, blah. It had to hurt, having an old friend throw choices she didn't make in her face like that."
"I forgot what it's like to have someone like me on board," he muttered. "You read the comms transcript?"
She shrugged. "I have to entertain myself somehow while I wait around for this suicide mission. It might as well be by hacking Cerberus firewalls."
"Fair enough. Well, if you know, I don't have to rehash it."
"Spoilsport."
"That's what they say." He scanned the assortment of bottles behind her. "Any prior orders you have on file for the commander?"
"Not yet, but I know she likes whiskey. Try this one." She opened the cabinet and drew down a bottle from the top shelf. She rotated the label towards him, revealing a long vertical stripe. "TM88 Peruvian, 12 year. Herbal, dry, spiced, and hot. A little citrusy on the finish. It's the only alcoholic beverage endorsed by the Medical Board on Sur'kesh."
"Sounds fine. How much will it run me?"
"You know what? Take both. My treat." Kasumi pushed it across the counter with the Lagavulin. "We all go down without her, right? So thanks for looking out."
His talons closed around the TM88. "Let me pay for mine at least. Can't let you take that much of a loss."
"That's sweet." A smile touched her mouth beneath her hood. "But I don't need your vigilante's salary. Thief, remember? I've got plenty stashed away."
"I won't dissuade you." He stood, hooking both bottles by their necks. "Thanks, Goto. See you around the ship."
"Take care of her, G. See you around."
Shepard, you available? 19:34
19:37 I'm here. What do you need?
Kill a bottle with me after that damn mission. 19:37
Picked up something for you. Goto's recommendation. 19:37
No pressure, but it's in the battery if you want it. So am I. 19:37
[ . . . ]
19:38 Fuck it
19:38 On my way
Bring glasses or something. 19:38
The battery door cycled open. Shepard had a pair of coffee cups dangling from her forefinger.
"Classy," he said.
"What I had in my quarters. Wasn't stoppin' in the mess for anything." She passed him one and sat, folding herself against his container of effects.
"Sure you don't want a stool? I've gotten some furniture since the last time we holed up in here to process trauma." He waved his omnitool at the door, sealing it.
"This is a rock bottom type of session. Elevation's gotta match the mood." She held out her mug for a pour. "What am I drinking?"
"TM88 Peruvian. High proof and medicinal." He joined her on the floor.
"Had me at 'high proof.' What's the toast?"
He considered. "Fuck that?"
She tapped her mug against his. "Fuck that."
They drank.
"Your turn," he said.
Shepard angled her cup, looking into it. "Fuck the Illusive Man, that underhanded piece of shit."
"Absolutely fuck the Illusive Man," he agreed.
They drank.
"Fuck the Collectors, taking our colonies. Fuck the Council, lettin' it happen." She drank again, long and deep. "Fuck Cerberus for the people we lost on Horizon, for the people I lost on Akuze, for every goddamn immoral project they had their fingers in two years ago." She exhaled. Her breath was shaky, uneven. "Fuck the Alliance for letting 'em take me. Fucking fuck Ash for thinking I'd ever have left by choice."
"Fuck her. Fuck them all." He drank and set his cup aside. "Look, Commander—everything Williams said, it's just one more pack of lies in the absolute litany of shit she's wrong about. You know that, right? You deserve to know that."
"I know that. It just—fuck." She tipped her head back against the container, closing her eyes. The empty mug dangled from her fingers. "Just sucks, Vakarian. I dunno how to make it feel any different."
"Yeah." He reached over and unhooked her cup by the handle. "Top you off?"
"Sure."
He poured another triple for both of them. "Maybe you don't have to."
"Don't have to what?"
"Don't have to make it feel differently. You got a raw deal, Shepard. Think it's okay to call it what it is."
He nudged her hand with the rim of her cup and she took it without opening her eyes.
"I guess," she said. "Doesn't feel like I get that choice."
"What does it feel like?"
"Feels like a problem. And I'm not sure what I'm s'posed to do if not handle every fucking problem that lies down in front of me."
"That's fair. I hear that." He thought about it. "Maybe it's the difference between walking into hell and owning that it's hot, and walking in trying to convince yourself it's a cool seventy. Either way you know the reality, but only one option's going to let you get on with your day."
She looked over. "You're philosophical as hell under the influence, Garrus."
"Thanks."
"The hell happen to you? Finally read a self-help book?"
He sipped. "If by 'read a self-help book' you mean 'extensively catalog what I can and can't control so as to focus ever more obsessively on what I can control,' yeah. Nothing but."
Shepard snorted. "All right." She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Might give it a try sometime. Leaning in. Can't promise it won't be a massive buzzkill."
"I think I'll find a way to survive," he drawled, "given that my buzz is starting to fire up whenever you issue a command or pop a clean shot in combat."
Oops. Definitely drunk.
She lifted an eyebrow. "Didn't know that. You tellin' me you've been fighting the enemy at half mast this whole time, Vakarian?"
"Recent development. Also, don't tell me you aren't. I've seen you after a kill."
"Nothin' like a good kill." She drank. "Still, that's usually a conversation between me, the showers, and my vibe. Real interesting of you to share."
"Well, Fornax just released its turian x human fetish issue. I've probably got some wires crossed."
"That'd explain it." She was smirking.
"Whatever." He took a long drink. "Think it's your turn to share something embarrassing."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Come on, Shepard, even the odds. We're both going to need dirt on each other after tonight, or it's not going to be a healthy professional relationship."
She refilled their mugs. "Y'know, I find it a little insulting that physical attraction to me is something to be ashamed of. Think I've got some pretty winning qualities."
"I mean. It's something to keep under wraps, at least, isn't it?" He raised his cup in thanks and drank.
"Why's that?"
Room was getting a little blurry. He focused on her. "I didn't get the impression you got involved with subordinates, for one."
"Vakarian, I just got notice from Chakwas that someone in nav is pregnant. There are no rules on this vessel. By the time Lawson transferred command to me, I wasn't even gonna try to touch fraternization."
"Too little too late?"
"Yep. Babies, feelings, love triangles, and STIs incubating all over the ship."
"Kinky."
"What, feelings?"
"Hah, hah."
She knocked back another draught. "So I owe you a story to hold over my head."
He copied her. "That's right. Give me something to add to the file."
"The one under your cot with the sock?"
"No. Other one. Actually, either would work."
"Lemme think. Couple few could make the cut."
"You have to pick between multiples? Who are you and what happened to Commander Shepard?"
"I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel."
"What?"
"That's the exclusive endorsement I recorded for a discount at Saronis Applications."
"...Am I too drunk to understand this story?"
"It's also the exclusive endorsement I recorded for a discount at Sirta Foundation down the block."
"—Oh, no."
"Yep."
"Commander, this is gold and also so sad. You ripped off a nonprofit to save a few credits?"
"To be fair, I just wanted market value. Prices are jacked the hell up on the Citadel."
"Feel like it didn't register the first time, so, again: Sirta. Nonprofit."
"Good thing I narrowed that profit margin then. Coulda been all kinds of tax repercussions if they'd pocketed what they were asking."
"Shepard! It's a nonprofit!"
"Yeah, yeah. Way I look at it, our team's part of the population Sirta was founded to help. Second, they're gonna owe us all their future profits anyway. Without us standin' in the way, the Citadel location and all its satellites get bombed out by the Reapers."
"—I need a refill. Have to process the death of my image of you as a person with principles." He poured. It took more concentration than it should've and both hands.
Yeah, motor skills were officially impaired.
"Better than having to process my actual death." She moved to catch the stream as he overshot her mug. She was grinning. "Feeling some effects, Vakarian?"
"Drink faster. I can't be the only one like this."
"Gettin' there. Sorry. Fucking Cerberus mods." She took the TM88 from his talons, examining the label. "Goto knows her booze. Might buy another one of these for my quarters." She set it down. "How much do I owe ya?"
"Owe me? You don't owe me."
"Seem to recall being conned into paying for the first round."
"Oh. That." He drank. "Get the next one. This doesn't count."
"Why not?"
"Uh. I mean, for one, Goto comped me, so I'd be pocketing the funds. For another, today was bullshit. I ever have a day as crappy as today was for you, you can bet you're paying."
She snorted. "Understood. Thanks for noticing."
"She hit you all the places it could hurt, Shepard. Of course I noticed."
"...Guess it was pretty hard to miss."
They drank. Somewhere below them the drive core hummed, a perpetual backdrop of sound. Beyond the rail, a double array of LEDs flashed as power to the cannons cycled on, staying hot for an attack that might or might not come.
He really hoped it wouldn't. He was in no position to operate weapons of any kind right now.
Shepard was thumbing the rim of her cup, her expression closed.
"I'm sorry about the last two years, Garrus. Sounds like it wasn't easy for the people I left behind. Wish I could've spared you that."
And there it was. That was the thing about guilt—it found your faultlines and seeped through. Didn't matter whether you deserved it. It was going to get in.
He shifted position, turning toward her. "I'm going to say something, and…damn it, I'm pretty drunk, so there's a non-zero chance it isn't going to come out right. But after the attack, when that last pod landed and Joker came out and you didn't? It didn't feel real. Liara cried. Williams broke a finger punching the hatch. Tali wanted to go back for you, and Wrex was in full denial. Joker couldn't cope. Kept saying it was his fault you went down with the ship. Chakwas could barely get him sedated so she could treat his wounds."
Her eyes were fixed on her mug. A muscle jumped in her law.
"So, yeah. It was hard. I won't say it wasn't." He put his cup down. "Those next two years were probably the longest of my life. I got lost, I got angry, I got lost again. Threw myself into work and a cause. Guess I wasn't the only one. But…here's the thing, Shepard. All of that fallout isn't your fault. Dying, the way your people coped with loss, hell, being picked up by Cerberus? Not your burdens to shoulder." He reached over, slightly unsteadily, and gripped her forearm. "You didn't abandon us, Commander. Didn't desert the Alliance. Didn't forsake your duty, didn't leave by choice. I know that and any idiot would know that and Williams is apparently an idiot, and she can go to hell for putting that on you."
He let go. "That's it. You deserved better than what you got from her. And for what it's worth, I don't need that apology, because I don't resent you. I won't walk away, Shepard. You were my captain, still are. Those two years didn't change that."
He stopped, examining her body language. Her hands were locked around her cup, the tendons in her neck cording out. Her pulse beat in her throat.
"Shepard? You…you okay?"
She made a noise, half laugh, half something else.
"No, Vakarian. Not really."
Something was off about her vocals. Almost imperceptible in the low light, a trace of moisture painted the corner of her eye.
…Shit.
He rallied. "Right, no, yeah. Humans leak saline solution under stress. It's a chemical response of the endocrine system that releases endorphins and hormones and, uh, I don't need to be saying this aloud. Right. C-Sec training. Okay. I'm, uh. I'm going to take that from you, Commander, all right? Easy."
He pried the mug from her fingers gently and set it aside. "Now I'm going to turn you, and then I'm going…going to hug you. You're in control. You get to decide when it stops. If you tap out or tense, I let go."
He gripped her shoulders, rotated her towards him, and drew her head onto his shoulder. "It's all right, ma'am. I've got you." He hesitated, then set a hand on her back, following the protocol.
"You've been through a hell of a lot, Shepard. More than most people could endure. This was a damned shitty day on top of a damned shitty couple of months, and what you're experiencing right now is natural and normal." He rubbed small circles, pushing away the surrealness of seeing Commander Shepard cry. "You don't have to do anything right now. You don't have to be anything right now. I promise that you're safe, on your ship, behind sealed doors, with a person you can trust. It might not feel okay, but you're going to be okay."
Shepard's hand locked on his rerebrace. The other was clenched, fisted against his cuirass in a strange push/pull that probably represented something about her relationship to vulnerability. He took his cues from her and stayed quiet.
They half-knelt in the dark of the battery, leaning awkwardly together over their cups, until her grip loosened and her hand tapped twice.
He let go and drew back. "Enough?"
"Yeah, enough." She shifted back against the container, shoving the heels of her palms against her eyes. "Jesus fuck, enough." Her vocals were strained. "Thanks, Garrus."
"Hell of a day, Shepard, like I said."
"Something like that." She shook her head, smiling a little. "Ever think you'd be using your C-Sec training to help a senior officer fight down a crying jag?"
"Senior officer, no. A friend, though, yeah." He reached behind his shipping container and handed her a bottled water.
"Well…you're a pretty good one. Hope I can return the favor." She popped the top and drank.
"Hope you don't have to. Not that I wouldn't appreciate the gesture, but it doesn't seem like much fun."
She snorted, sounding more like herself. "Not much. I guess crying's got its uses. Flushes cortisol from the body, activates the parasympathetic nervous system. Numbs you out, after. Good deal if you can get there."
"I take it getting there isn't always easy."
"Yeah. Trauma response. More scar tissue you've got, harder it is." She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, setting down the bottle. "I mean, you saw. Got maybe three guys outta there."
"Makes sense. That's hard."
She shook out her wrist, checked the time on her omnitool. The glow of the holo washed her face. The flush from the booze was already fading as her mods restored equilibrium.
"How are you doing, Commander?" he asked. "Want to call it for the night?"
She closed her omnitool. "Sure. Could do with some shuteye after today."
She went silent for a moment, looking out into the battery, then met his eyes again. "On the other hand."
"...On the other hand?" he drawled.
"On the other hand, haven't killed the bottles yet. Which was the pretense for getting me down here, if I remember right."
"Point. I seem to recall something like that."
"And, y'know. Whiskey famously doesn't keep overnight."
"Yeah, that's considerate. Would hate to waste Goto's gift."
She raised an eyebrow. "Your call, Gunnery Officer. Stay or go?"
He cocked his head, surveying her.
"...Stay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. What the hell, I could drink more. Maybe shouldn't, but then again, when have I ever made a good decision?"
Shepard smirked. "That's the spirit, Garrus. Let's do this."