Act Two - Future Complex

Prologue

Shepard died three days ago.

I can still recall those last moments in perfect clarity.

I can feel the softness of her hip bumping against my thigh, the warmth of her hand on my waist, even through my tunic. The curve of her waist under my talons.

I can smell her soap, the ever-present undertones of sweat, gun oil, the underlayer of her armour. The slight tang of fear. The indoctrinated council has made her a Spectre for stopping Sovereign and Saren. It fills me with respect and awe. It fills her with fear.

I can see the curve of her lips as she smiles, the slight blush on her cheeks as she teases me about my not being a member of her crew any longer. We can be together. Her bright emerald eyes laugh into mine as she tells me not to worry.

I can hear the ever-present hum of the life support systems in the alley, the sound of our footsteps, hollow and ringing, on the floor. Anderson and Nihlus debate whether or not to provide Udina with extra security now he is a councilor. The husky warmth of Shepard's voice makes my hands tremble ever so slightly as she tells me that she has me.

Then everything goes to hell, and suddenly nothing felt present or real any longer.

A human male bumped into her, stumbled, his arm grabbing hold of her. He asked if she was Captain Shepard. Something warm splashed against my face and neck. It took exactly three heartbeats for me to realize that it was blood, her blood. Anderson and Nihlus opened fire. The man's head disintegrated, but my arms were full of her, and her blood was everywhere.

Nihlus yelled at me to pick her up, and I held her in one arm. She weighed nothing. My other hand pressed against the massive wound at the base of her skull, trying to staunch the blood. I don't recall the flight back to the Normandy, just having the doctor and Kaidan pull her from my arms once we reached the ship. They tore her away and worked on her even as others pushed the gurney toward the stairs.

Nihlus shoved by me, rushing to get to the bridge, commanding Joker to call back all hands and then take off without clearances. I believe we took fire on our way to the relay.

I followed the gurney to med bay. I held her hand while they explained to me why there was nothing they could do and encased her in a stasis field. I held her hand while Nihlus and Anderson stood over her body, arguing about what to do next. I held her hand while Anderson stood, head bowed, his hands gripping hers between them, a father's hellish grief kept tightly reined in. I held her hand for three days until they placed her in a casket to fire her into space.

I couldn't leave her. She was afraid of being alone in the dark.

Then I had to say goodbye, before getting a chance to know anything. And there were so many things I wanted to know. What side of the bed she favoured if being trapped against the wall didn't enter into it. Every single smile she had to share when she woke in the morning, hair tussled, the imprint of her pillow on her cheek. All the places she liked to be touched. The noises she made when I loved her. Every memory she had yet to confide in me. Every line that appeared as time passed. Every single detail that I could have learned over the course of the cycles.

And then I said goodbye. I don't think I breathed from the moment the assassin's gun went off, as if the universe froze when the blood and bone of the woman I had just started to love splashed across my face.

Because only two thoughts kept cycling through my head.

"Shepard—the woman I love—is dead.

Now what?"

Chapter One - Farewell, Kahri - 3 days ASD

"Garrus?"

The hatch of their second brand new Kodiak creaked open. The sound broke through his envelope of misery, and he made a mental note to lubricate the hinges.

"Garrus? Are you in there?" A small, dark shape appeared—a hooded silhouette in the dim light coming through the opening. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere." Tali hopped up and stood over him. "They told me you'd be hiding in here." She nudged him with her elbow. "Sit up and scoot over. Come on, Brother C-Sec, I came a long way for this."

Garrus flinched, a sharp keen catching in his throat at the familiar nickname said by the wrong voice. "Don't," was all he managed to gasp through the claws ripping into his throat.

Tali let out a tiny, hiccoughing sob. "I'm sorry. I wasn't . . .." She pulled in a long, hard breath that whistled a little, even the sound stabbing through him, dull and jagged.

"C-Sec, your nose whistles when you sigh. Did you know that?"

Garrus didn't move, letting the whisper diffuse in the heavy air, and waited for the accompanying bayonet buried in his chest to dislodge. His eyes stared through the leather backrest of the bench he used as a bed. He knew that Shepard chose him to pick up her banner and keep fighting because she believed he possessed the strength to hold the team together, to be there for them . . . to keep them from succumbing to the horrible enormity of the war to come. No one had ever believed in him with such complete faith. She'd made a mistake. All he wanted to do was crawl into the deepest, darkest hole he could find and cover himself over.

He couldn't, of course. Damn Shepard and her bloody faith in him. She'd painted him into a corner, leaving him no choice but to pick the banner out of the mud, wash her blood from it the best he could, and carry on.

Sitting up, he let gravity do most of the work as his feet dropped to the floor. "Have Liara and Wrex arrived?" Heavy, humid air pressed in on him from all sides, a thick layer of sweaty plastic wrapped so tight he couldn't breathe. When he did draw in air, it stank of defeat, and fear, and the copper tang of her blood. No matter how hard he scrubbed, the smell of her death clung to him: an accusatory specter.

He'd just let the bastard shoot her.

Tali perched on the edge of the bench. "Wrex has. Liara is ten minutes out yet. She found some fascinating piece of information that couldn't wait." The quarian chuckled. "Some things don't change. Legion and Kal are talking to Captain Anderson." She slipped her arm through his. "I'm so sorry, Garrus. I keep thinking that maybe if the rest of us had been there . . .."

He cut the air with his hand, dismissing that idea before it finished forming. "You were where she wanted . . . needed you to be. She had three of the galaxy's best shots, most experienced soldiers . . .. We got careless. They'd made her a Spectre. They wouldn't kill a brand new Spectre who'd just saved everyone. All I had to do was push him back . . . step between them. My arm was wrapped around her, Tali, and I just let him shoot her."

Fuck reason. Fuck not having a chance to even realize she was in danger before she was dead. He'd just let that bastard shoot her.

Tali nodded and kicked her feet a little, brushing the soles of her boots against the corrugated rubber matting. "Anderson said that you only left her side a couple of hours ago." Her hand stroked his upper arm, but comfort felt like barbs of geterr cactus burrowing under his hide to fester. It threatened to undo the frail equilibrium he'd finally discovered after three days of snapping back and forth between wanting to scream at everyone to just fucking fix it and wanting to lie down next to her.

Jumping up, he yanked his arm loose. He regretted the rough action as soon as he pulled away. "Sorry, Tali, I just . . .." He held out a hand to usher her from the shuttle.

"I understand, Garrus. We've all had our suits shredded." She slipped her fingers into his talons. Neither of them spoke until they arrived at the bridge.

"Just in time," Joker called, glancing over his shoulder at them. His mouth opened to say something further, crack wise maybe. Instead, his eyes shuttered over, his mouth closed, and he turned back to his work. "Liara just arrived," he said. "Who knew our shy little researcher would turn out to be queen of the asari?"

"Who would have thought I'd be surveying my home world with a team of quarians and geth? Or that Wrex would be king of the krogan?" A thin, flat sigh whispered through her suit's speaker only to get cut off by a hiccoughing sob. "Well . . . I guess Shepard knew, didn't she?"

An asari cruiser pulled up alongside, drawing Garrus's attention away from the conversation. He closed his eyes, mandibles fluttering a little as the cruiser's massive engines set the deck plating thrumming, deep and powerful, under his feet. He could barely recall the last time he'd felt that sensation. The citadel might as well be on a planet but for the constant hum of the life support systems, and the Normandy vibrated on a higher, lighter frequency, almost like a tickle.

"When we arrived at the Citadel after Eden Prime," Nihlus said from behind Garrus, alerting everyone to his presence, "Shepard was the only one who didn't gawk and admire the Destiny Ascension. She said that it looked like something that should be trying to eat us." A tremulous, low-pitched keen whispered under the Spectre's every breath.

"Asari ships are creepy as hell," Joker grumbled in agreement. "The cruiser requests permission to dock with the Normandy."

"Permission granted," Anderson replied, appearing beside Garrus to look out the port at the other ship. The captain glanced at Garrus, his face a stoic mask that accentuated rather than downplayed his grief. "I'm heading down." He averted his eyes and straightened, snapping his back and shoulders taut and square. "You'll bring Dr. T'Soni and her companion down when they're ready?"

Garrus recognized the hasty wall of military distance and how close Anderson was to losing that composure. He nodded, glad Anderson had given him something to do other than fidget and wait to say goodbye. If he kept busy enough the varren braying and snapping away in his guts might not get a chance to tear him into tiny pieces.

When Anderson spun and strode from the cockpit, Garrus followed, ducking around Nihlus. Alcohol wafted from the other turian's pores and breath, shrouding him in a cloud of noxious stink. Garrus stopped and met the Spectre's eyes then whispered, "Go to Dr. Chakwas and get something. You don't want to stumble through this." His mandibles dropped and flicked hard. "Then take a shower and put on something clean. You reek."

Nihlus blinked a few times then nodded and turned around, his shoulder bouncing into the bulkhead. He stumbled, Garrus catching him before he went down.

"Do you want me to have someone take you?" Garrus asked, keeping his grip on Nihlus's arm.

The Spectre yanked his arm free. "I can manage." He strode down the length of the CIC, his trajectory wobbling a little. Cursing, he fell down the ramp, catching himself at the bottom. Pressly stepped forward, an awkward hand held out in a surprising offer of assistance, but Nihlus barked something that backed the Alliance officer off.

"Permission to come aboard?" a soft voice asked, pulling Garrus's attention away from Nihlus. Liara stood at the inner hatch, Aethyta and a half dozen commandos right behind her.

Garrus nodded. "Permission granted. Welcome back, Liara." He nodded to the other asari.

"Thank you." Liara stepped forward, her hand held out, hanging hesitant and awkward in an offering of ineffectual empathy. When Garrus gripped it, she squeezed his talons. "I'm so sorry, Garrus. I barely knew her, and I feel like someone's stolen something precious from me."

He cleared his throat, unable to completely stifle a soft keen as the ghost of Shepard's limp body played along the nerves in his arms and closed his larynx. Three strangled breaths later, he got enough control to speak. "Your quarters are as you left them. Do you want to take some time to freshen up?" He ushered them down the CIC toward the stairs.

"Thank you, that would be welcome. I found some information in my mother's files about a secret prothean archive on Thessia, so I spent every last second I could decrypting the data." Liara chuckled, but it came out bitter. "My mother certainly didn't want anyone to access her intel without a fight."

"The asari have a prothean archive that they've kept hidden from the rest of the galaxy?" Garrus asked, fury incinerating his sorrow. No wonder the damned asari ran the galaxy. How dare they hold all their high ideals over the rest of the races and then . . .. He took a deep breath and shook it off. The anger was just a distraction. He didn't want to spend those moments distracted. They could deal with the asari archive when they reached Omega.

"So it would appear," Liara replied. "I haven't decrypted very much yet, but I'll keep working on it. Where and when are we meeting?" She glanced back at him, her big, blue, watery stare of empathy tearing a ragged gash through his control. "I assume we'll need to coordinate our war preparation."

"Yes. When we're finished with . . .." He swallowed hard and let that thought drop, holding tight to the anger. "I'll go through Shepard's computer, and we'll figure out the details." He nodded to the Alliance soldier as they passed through the door to the crew deck.

"We might as well stay aboard for the next few days if that's the case. I'll ask Captain Anderson if that's all right with him later." Liara stopped outside the med bay door. "We'll grab a quick shower and be ready to go in fifteen minutes." Her hand drifted back to his, squeezed his talons, then she turned and walked through the door.

For a full thirty seconds after the med bay door closed, Garrus just stood, staring at the bulkhead. A terrible realization forced its way through his mind, a weed tearing a crack in the pavement on its way to the light. They all expected him to have the answers . . . all the answers.

"Damn you, Shepard," he whispered. "Damn you for leaving me with all of this." Pivoting on his heel, he strode across the crew deck, shoving the enormity of the task aside, using the anger to keep his sorrow at bay. If he allowed himself to focus on the big picture, he'd end up curled into a ball under a table somewhere. One step at a time. One problem at a time. That moment, he needed to get Nihlus sobered up as much as possible, dragged through a shower, and down to the cargo bay.

One problem at a time.

Nihlus braced his hands against the door frame leading out of his tiny quarters. "I can't do it, Vakarian. You can't understand. After the rachni queen unravelled the beacon messages . . .."

"I know what happened, Nihlus. Shepard did her best to explain it." Garrus pushed against the Spectre for a moment, then let out a long, growling version of an explicit turian curse. "You'll hate yourself if you don't say goodbye. It won't be more than a half hour then you can disgrace her memory by drowning yourself in another couple of litres of brandy."

"I have nothing left, Vakarian. The council has taken everything from me. First Saren and then being a Spectre. Now with Shepard, they've torn out my heart . . . taken away a mate for the second time." He shook his head as if trying to shake off that thought. "It's impossible. Shepard and I never did anything more than kiss, and then she ran away from me and back to you." He gave Garrus a shove, knocking him back hard enough to slip past and slump onto his cot. "And yet, I can feel every emotion . . . the joy and awe when our children were born . . .." He keened and covered his face. "It never happened. I have nothing."

Another exasperated curse cut the air, the subvocals behind it knife-edged. "You have your honor. You have your duty to the galaxy." Garrus cuffed Nihlus in the side of the head, hoping for a reaction, but the Spectre just slumped a little further. "Even if the Reapers walk here from dark space, we still won't have enough time to prepare properly. She needed you. Now she has left this all on the two of us, Nihlus, and I need you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me."

Garrus let out a long breath through a clenched jaw and sat on the end of the cot. "We're both not very good turians, are we?" He shook his head. "Yeah, not good turians at all. You giving the turian military so much hassle that they were glad to get rid of you when Saren put you forward for the Spectres. Me butting heads with C-Sec over everything."

"She didn't care," Nihlus said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Nodding, Garrus stood. "She saw something in us. Something we can't see in ourselves. And she cared about us." He swallowed and tilted his head, cracking his neck to try to shake free of the invisible fist digging its talons into his throat. "She had complete faith in us, Nihlus. She knew we could go on without her, as much as we feel like we can't right now." Clearing his throat, he turned to face the door, one hand lifting to brace against the cool metal. "We owe it to her to prove her right."

Nihlus let out another wavering keen. "I met her before coming to the Normandy, you know, but if she remembered it, she never said."

Garrus turned from the door, leaning his shoulder against the frame, curiosity cutting through his annoyance and grief. "When?" The hollow core of him reached out, clutching greedily at the unknown, unexpected tidbit. It wanted to gobble up every tiny fact and picture of Shepard, stuffing them all down into the void she'd left behind. Later he could curl up and examine the small treasures at his leisure, keeping her alive and close for a few moments more.

"I became completely obsessed with her after hearing about Elysium, but our paths never crossed until just after she became an N7. It was some ridiculous political affair. Sparatus wanted Saren and me to act as his bodyguards for the evening. Pointless posturing. One upmanship at its best. Saren was furious, but what could we do?" Nihlus's mandibles flicked, a wistful sort of half-smile. "Udina had pulled in Shepard as his golden example of the Alliance military." He closed his eyes. "She wore this silky black dress that let her leg peek out the side, and her hair was all gathered on top of her head, just these long copper curls hanging around her face. I'd only ever seen the Shepard from the news footage—armour and the severe, regulation appearance—more impressive than attractive. That night, she was so beautiful that she took my breath away."

"Long hair?" A sliver of jealousy slipped between Garrus's plates, stabbing him straight in the gut. He scowled, chiding himself for coveting Nihlus's memory . . . that single moment of an exquisitely dressed, long-haired Shepard. It was a Shepard he'd never get the chance to see. Sorrow pummeled him, knocking the wind out of him as it drove the shard in deeper. Versions of her that he'd never see fought to break through his thoughts, but he beat them back.

Nihlus nodded and opened his eyes, locking stares with Garrus. "I tried to work up the courage to talk to her all night. Couldn't do it. Even just rehearsing what I'd say, I botched it so completely that I knew I'd end up looking like a blathering moron." He straightened, bracing his hands against the edge of the cot. "Put a gun in my hand and aim me at a hundred outlaw mercs or gunrunning underworld types, no problem. Ask me to talk to a female I'm attracted to . . . forget it." He stared down at his hands. "I was just starting to yell at myself for wasting the only chance I'd had to speak to her when Sparatus sent me to the bar to get him a drink. While I was waiting, Shepard stepped up beside me. Spirits, she smelled good, like the highland breeze on Palaven when the rylamia is blooming, or the algae plume on Oma Ker."

Nihlus paused, then his mandibles spread and fluttered in a smile. "She looked up at me and said, 'Spectre Nihlus Kryik, right?' I nodded, too busy gawking at how tiny and perfect she was to answer. 'Lt. Commander Jane Shepard, pleased to meet you.' She looked over at Saren glowering behind Sparatus. 'Glad to see the council spending the galaxy's credits so wisely.' Her laugh completely wiped away what little brain function remained to me. I think I managed to get out the word politicians before Udina grabbed her and dragged her off to speak to someone else."

"A notable first meeting. I'm sure you made quite the impression." Garrus nodded toward the door. "Come on, the others will be waiting for us." He palmed the door and stepped through, trying to see past the picture in his mind of that Shepard smiling up at him. She was gone. No amount of wishing things were different could change that. Forcing everything but surviving the following half hour from his mind, he waited for Nihlus then followed him down to the cargo bay.

The rest of the team and crew had already assembled around the simple casket, waiting for them as he'd guessed. When they stepped off the elevator, he hung back. He really was a terrible turian. Raised from birth to release the dead, they learned not to fear death or lament the lost. Those who died in the course of their duty deserved celebration, not endless keening tears. Why then was it taking all his strength to fight down the need to run to the casket, fling it open and demand that Shepard stop playing at being dead? She couldn't really be gone. Not Shepard. She'd cheated death so many times. She'd made a lifestyle out of it.

Tali gripped his hand when he finally managed to wrestle himself across the bay to stand at Shepard's side for the last time. A storm brewed in his chest, the black clouds rolling up into his head until its thunder drowned out the voices around him. His heartbeat kept time between flashes of lightning that seared along his nerves and made his jaw clench.

It wasn't fair. Nothing in life was, of course, but that brushed-steel casket in front of him made up the most cruel injustice of them all. An entire career dedicated to rooting out wrongs and setting the scales right . . . and what damned good had he been when it most mattered? He clenched his fists, loosening up when he felt Tali flinch.

The moment Shepard burst into Dr. Michel's clinic, guns blazing, that smart mouth and razor sharp wit taking people down faster than her bullets, she'd grabbed him deep down in his gut. His free hand drifted up to press against his keel, fighting back against the growing pressure building there.

His eyes began to feel too large for his sockets, and he realized he'd been staring at the hateful box without blinking.

"Shepard gave the quarian people the most precious gift . . .." Tali's voice trailed off into quiet sniffles. "And for a little while, I remembered what it felt like to have someone's complete faith and trust . . . their admiration and respect . . . their protection and nurturing. Shepard believed in me and because of that, I discovered belief in myself." She swallowed, the sound coming out her speaker thick, a faint whine of sorrow threaded through it. "Thank you for my home, Shepard. Thank you for everything. Keelah se'lai. I'll miss you." She let go of Garrus's hand and stepped forward to lay a single white lily on the casket.

One of many . . . had everyone put one there? How did he miss that?

"Garrus?" Anderson asked. He extended his hand toward the casket, his stare expectant, as if Garrus should know what he asked.

Garrus frowned, confusion sparking a sharp, prickling anger. What? What did he want? Just get it over with and eject the casket into space already. Eject her body into the star and maybe then he could just move on. Maybe then he could stop remembering the way that same body felt cradled in his arms four nights earlier, so soft and warm pressed against him that his chest and throat ached with the beauty of the moment. She nuzzled her head into the curve of his neck, her fingers caressing lazy patterns over his hide while he read her Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep.

"Do the voices."

"I don't want to do the voices. Just be quiet and listen."

"Come on, you've got to do the voices. Don't be such a poop."

Spirits, but life cut cruelly with its penchant for tragedy. A taloned vice grabbed hold of his keel and started ripping it from his body, white hot agony lancing through him to strangle his heart. His heartbeat slowed, sluggish and laboured. His lungs struggled to pull in air but it didn't make it past his throat. Dizzy, he clung to Tali's hand, praying she could keep him on his feet. If he fell, he didn't know how he'd manage to get up again. He couldn't fall. He needed to keep the panic and the pain buttoned down . . . had to keep it locked up.

"Would you like to say something, son?" Anderson asked, pulling Garrus from the memory. The Captain stepped back to stand between Admiral Hackett—when had he arrived?—and Dr. Chakwas.

Garrus opened his mouth to refuse, but what came out was, "The worst sin anyone could commit was to ignore Shepard. I've seen her kiss total strangers, molest an asari's scalp crests, and blame a krogan for giving her some sort of communicable rash spread by varren all as punishment for that ultimate transgression. Of course, she didn't always have to be ignored in order to do something completely insane. Our last leave before Virmire, she got into a bar fight with Earth's Ambassador, jumped off the C-Sec Executor's balcony and climbed up on a skycar, screaming praise for the Enkindlers so obnoxiously that a small mob of hanar dragged her down."

His mandibles fluttered. "One of the first things I asked her after we met was whether her lunacy was real or an act. Even though I know most of it was a tactical facade, I'm still not sure of the answer to that question."

He stepped forward and leaned down to press his talons to the cool metal. "She was a complete mystery. She could spout random quotes from the most obscure books and ancient movies, but have no idea about anything that had been released in the last ten cycles. Her heart . . .." His voice cut out, his throat closing. He blinked, taking a long breath, forcing himself to maintain control. When he could swallow, he cleared his throat, shoving aside the panic . . . the need to throw open the casket and hold her, shake her, will the life back into her, demand that her god give her back. He couldn't have her, not yet. They had so much to do. He'd planned to . . .. He drove away that thought, all his plans for the future. What good would wallowing in them do him?

He managed to suck in a rasping breath, and let the words roll out. "Her heart had been battered more than any one individual should have to bear, but somehow she managed to keep it open, reaching out to anyone who needed her. She was the first to know if someone was hurting, exhausted, needing a bracing word, a hand to hold, or a kick in the ass. Every mission, she stuffed her pockets with enough rations to feed the squad and slapped trackers on us so she'd never lose us. She was always the first into the fight and the last one out."

He stroked the smooth metal as if caressing her back. "Shepard was brave. Loyal to a fault. Infuriating. Terrified. Honourable. Strong . . . so much stronger than she believed. Perfect in her flaws . . . and I loved . . . love her." He swallowed again, closing his eyes. "Rest easy, Kahri, we'll carry your banner forward and get this done. You deserve to rest. One day, we'll get a chance to finish what we started." He dropped his voice to a breathy whisper. "Wait for me."

He straightened and squared his shoulders. Liara passed him a lily, but instead of laying it as the others had, he broke the stem an inch away from the flower. Placing the stem at the head of the casket, he whispered. "You can have the rest when we meet again." He stepped back beside Tali, the quarian wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Nihlus?" Anderson called. "Would you like to say anything?"

Nihlus stepped forward, touched his lily to his brow and placed it on the casket. "Farewell, Sister Shepard, may the light that shines on you be as bright as the one you shone on all of us. Glory hallelujah . . .."

". . . And praise the great, glowing asses of the Enkindlers," the team said as one, soft chuckles breaking through clenched jaws and tear streaked faces.

Arms wrapped around Garrus from both sides as the thrusters under the casket flared to life. Teeth clenched so tight that pain shot through his jaw, he watched the Normandy's ramp open. The system's star—what system were they in?—poised on the brink of going nova and flared a riotous gold and orange against the black void of space, fighting its inevitable collapse and death.

Admiral Hackett took one step forward. "From the stars our bodies are formed; to the stars we return. From the infinite our souls are born; to the infinite we commend the soul of Captain Jane Shepard and ask that she be granted rest."

Garrus closed his eyes as the casket cleared the ramp, unable to bear watching them send her out into the dark alone. "Don't worry, Kahri, it'll only be dark and cold for a few minutes. Then everything will be warmth and light. I'm with you. I'll always be with you. You'll never be alone again."