30 Days ASR
"Spirits, why would Shepard come down here of all places?" Nihlus grumbled, shoving a very drunk vorcha out of his way.
Garrus stopped, leaning against a planter for a minute, panting weakly as he struggled to catch his breath. Once he recovered a little, he shoved himself upright and lifted a leg up to sit on the low wall. "I don't know. Maybe she just started walking, and this is where she ended up." He pulled his water bottle from his hip pack and sipped at it. He didn't dare to drink too much for fear of throwing up. His head felt as though it intended to explode off his neck, the throbbing overwhelming everything but the need to rinse the oily slime of Omega from his throat.
Breathing through his mouth had kept him from throwing up … mostly … but it allowed a thick layer of scummy pirate outpost to build up on the back of his tongue.
"What's even down here other than illegal pit fighting, gambling, and prostitution?" Nihlus froze, turning a horrified stare to lock onto Garrus. "You don't think she came down here to fight, do you? She'll be ground into varren chow in the pits."
Despite believing that Shepard may well have gone down there to fight, Garrus shook his head. "The information from Lawson's tracker suggests Shepard's just been wandering." That possibility worried him more than the fighting. At least if she was looking for a good pit fight, she'd have her guard up.
"Shepard would kick ass in the pits, even down here," Martin grumbled. He strode past Garrus. "She's not some helpless waif. She's Captain Jane fucking Shepard."
Garrus chuckled and took another couple of sips of water. "Either way, we need to find her now. I've got maybe ten minutes left before I'm ground into varren chow." He capped the bottle and pushed up off the planter. "Let's move."
Two batarians pushed past Martin, wobbling as they helped one another along, both drunk and looking beaten half to death.
"What happened to you?" Martin asked. "You look like you've been mugged."
One stopped to look at him, weaving unsteadily. "What? Mugged?" He hawked and spat a gob of blood onto the floor. "You could say that." He retched for a second. "Bloody red-headed she demon in the pit stole my last fifty credits."
"Red-headed … ." Martin glanced back at Garrus and took off, running in the direction they'd come from. "Come on. We've got to get her out of there."
Garrus pushed off, limping after the kid at a much more reasonable pace. "What happened to Captain Jane fucking Shepard?"
Five minutes later, Garrus faced the front door of one of the filthiest, ugliest buildings he'd ever seen, complete with the filthiest, ugliest krogan bouncer he'd ever seen.
"What happened to you?" the massive door guard grumbled, nodding toward the side of Garrus's face.
"Stopped a A-61's rocket with my face on a dare. Seemed like a good idea at the time." Leaning heavily on one hip, he stared the behemoth down. Spirits, he hoped the krogan just let them in. He didn't have a brawl in him.
The krogan laughed and stepped aside. "Yeah, that's stupid enough to get you admission. Enjoy your night."
Inside, Garrus pushed his way through the throng, the combination of sour sweat, fourteen different kinds of cigarette and cigar smoke, five different kinds of blood, booze, and vomit slamming against the inside of his nose like a battering ram. "I should have brought my helmet," he shouted to Nihlus, regretting the volume as quickly as the words came out. Still, the pain couldn't hold a candle to the reek that kept tweaking his gag reflex. As if it needed encouragement.
Before they'd left the base, Chakwas had cornered him yet again to change the bandage on his head and dose him once again. He thought for sure the doctor would try to talk him out of their rescue mission. Instead, she'd handed him three high energy meal replacement drinks and just walked away.
"I don't see her," Nihlus replied, shoving a massive krogan out of the way. Luckily, the behemoth was so drunk that he just laughed and flopped over onto his side amidst the filth.
Glancing toward the fighting at the center of the crowd, Garrus shook his head. "Why would she come here?" he asked, without expecting an answer. If he hadn't had Nihlus and the kid … and his promise to Shepard … where would he have gone the moment he arrived on the station? Somewhere he could unleash all the rage he felt toward the galaxy without anyone batting an eye at it. Somewhere just like that place.
Spirits, he hoped they didn't find her body thrown in a corner somewhere. He met Nihlus's eyes and motioned for the Spectre to circle around the other side of the fighting pit. They'd drifted too far apart for Nihlus to have a hope of hearing him.
He stepped over a vorcha lying in a puddle of its own blood, the resilient flesh knitting together even as Garrus watched. In a half hour, the fighter would wake up and be ready to throw itself back into the meat grinder. Bodies pressed close, stomping on the fallen drunks and losers even as they lay there. Garrus bent down, grabbed the vorcha's arm and dragged him over against the wall. Martin appeared at the general's side, grabbing the fallen combatant's other arm, and helped drag him up the stepped levels at the perimeter of the room, out of harm's way.
The kid glanced over at the pit, their view a lot less obstructed from a couple of levels up. A wide grin lit up his face, disappearing into a wince and then a grimace as one of the fighters landed a particularly hard blow. "Is it weird that I want to climb in there and give it a go?" Martin yelled over Garrus's shoulder, surprising the general who suddenly felt like a parent who'd somehow managed to raise one of those daredevils who jumps from orbit in wingsuits or surfs plasma eruptions. The kid flexed his armour. "I could take them all, make enough to quit, buy a nice planet."
Garrus let out a bitter laugh and shook his head, regretting the action the second he did it. Still, he let out a hearty chuff. "Pit fighting on Omega won't buy you a planet, kid. Might rent you an apartment in a better part of the station, but you'd had to fight every day to keep it." He shoved aside two humans. "Besides … look at them. No armour. They have to fight in their shorts so they can't hide weapons." He stabbed a hand toward a huge krogan on the sidelines and shouted, "As a bonus, if you fight naked, you can avoid having that guy shove his hand down your ass crack and into your sheath to check for blades."
"Ouch! Damn." Martin stopped to watch the human and batarian circling one another in the ring. "Guess the batarian decided he didn't want the krogan hand job." He winced and threw a hand up in front of his ocular implants. "I can't blame him, but damn, I didn't need to see that."
Garrus glanced back at the mostly naked fighters, his gut coiling tighter as his mind exchanged the batarian for Shepard, crouched, bare except for her underwear, blood streaking her skin. Skeletal fingers scraped down the back of his neck, sinking into the soft meat at the edge of his cowl. Why had she come to that hole? Dread pressed his eyes to the floor, gelid and implacable, insisting that he watch for a tiny, mostly naked body tossed away along with the empty bottles, food wrappers, and smoke butts.
Nihlus appeared halfway up the bleachers on the far side of the pit, one hand raised to catch Garrus's attention. When the general nodded, the Spectre pointed to a small door tucked in behind the stands. For some reason, that small, dark hole warmed the dank chill. Thank the spirits … maybe Shepard hadn't come there to fight. Maybe she just needed to meet a contact.
Or maybe, she's already been beaten to death and dragged out into the alley for the vorcha.
His eyes refused to give up their search of the floor in between, although Martin loped ahead. Far too much enthusiasm and pure joy celebrated Shepard's return for the kid to contain it. And why not? If it was true … and damn, if Garrus wasn't starting to let himself believe it … they'd been granted a boon worthy of having pleased the ancient gods.
Cool and effervescent, relief washed over his hide as he reached the door, no Shepard. A slow smile crept over his face as he glanced behind him before following Nihlus into the dark passage. Shepard always did know how to get him jammed into the weirdest spots. Forcing them to chase her into the seediest, foulest part of Omega … that was his Kahri.
The dark closed around them, gritty and stinking, as they made their way down the corridor. Two light bulbs hung crookedly from wires, sputtering with a weak, olive light. He stumbled over something, a foul curse slipping from between his teeth as his face threatened to fall off. Bare, five toed feet led to bruised and bloody legs and a torso twisted and slumped down the wall. Judging by the empty bottles scattered next to the batarian suggested a victory celebrated a little too well. A rumbling snore alleviated Garrus's concern, and he moved on.
Twenty metres down the hall, the roar from the fighting pit faded enough that Garrus could hear the activities going on behind the doors that broke the walls at three metre intervals. He clenched his teeth, then cursed and took a deep breath. He really needed to remember not to do that.
Places like that pit needed Archangel's cleaning services. Maybe now that the gangs had been all but run out, he could do something about them.
"Shouldn't we be looking in the doors?" Martin whispered. He glanced back, his grimace grisly in the faint light.
"Is that something you really want to see, kid?" Nihlus asked, picking his way forward.
"No, but what if she's … ." Martin sighed and shrugged. "... been drugged or something?"
Garrus patted the young man's shoulder and turned him around. "If we don't find her in the common areas, we'll do a room to room, but I'd like to exhaust the possibilities that won't involve some pissed off, drunken 'client' shooting me in the head first."
Nihlus stopped. A closed door blocked the end of the hall. "Gambling lounge, right?" he asked without looking back.
"Most of the time, yes," Garrus replied. "Nice and close to the back door for those quick getaways, not that you need them on Omega. The cops won't be busting in to this place any time soon."
Nihlus sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Fine, but if I open this door to some kinky hanar … ." Garrus silently thanked his fratrin for leaving the rest of that image unspoken. After another moment's hesitation, Nihlus palmed the control and stepped through the door.
"Spirits!" Nihlus exclaimed, stopping so suddenly that Garrus ran up his heels. "What … ?" The question flailed a little through the Spectre's subvocals before dying. "Shepard?"
Garrus gave his fratrin a shove, pushing him far enough through the door that he could step around to see whatever it was that had rendered Nihlus speechless.
Shock slapped him hard in the face … and not the good side. "Spirits." The word whispered from Garrus's mouth as he stared, trying to process what it was he was seeing. Dizziness washed over him, leaving him stumbling to brace himself against the back of a tattered, leather chair.
The doorway opened into a small, dark room. Not two paces away, Shepard lay on her back on a couch. An asari straddled her hips, leaning forward with her forearms braced against Shepard's chest. It took him a full thirty seconds to register the blood coating Shepard's skin … the broken and bruised skin over her knuckles … the swollen, bleeding lip … the thick, black stream of blood flowing from her nose and across her cheek.
It took him another thirty seconds to realize both Shepard and the asari remained fully clothed, and were staring at him and Nihlus, their expressions surprised and amused, but not the slightest bit indignant or guilty. Fifteen seconds after that, he spotted the device in the asari's hand. A tattoo gun? Shepard had gone into the seediest, most violent and filthy part of Omega to get a tattoo?
"The big handsome ones with you, love?" the asari asked, turning back to wipe the blood from under Shepard's nose with a thin cloth. Its astringent alcohol pinched the inside of Garrus's nose. Antiseptic. The tattoo gun began to buzz, the asari returning to work as if they hadn't entered the room.
Shepard let out a long breath and raised a hand to block the gun. "Two of them are, or at least, they were." She nodded toward the door and when the asari shrugged and swung up onto her feet, Shepard sat up, slipping her legs off the couch. "Thanks Tamri, I'm going to need to deal with this. You probably want to get out of range and behind some cover."
Garrus stared at Shepard's face, again not comprehending what he was seeing. Brown dots covered Shepard's cheekbones and across her nose. Some of them looked fairly natural while others clearly hadn't been finished. Clear fluid leaked from her face, making her look as though she'd been sweating. She looked up at Nihlus, pointedly avoiding even glancing Garrus's direction.
"Shepard." The Spectre stepped out of the way of the asari, waited until the door closed, then moved over to sit next to Shepard. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice soft. He reached up to touch the pad of a talon against her cheek. "And what is this?" He sighed and wrapped an arm around her. "I told you they were just weird."
She smiled and turned to kiss his cheek. "I was tired of not recognizing the woman in the mirror, Nihlus. I can't do anything about the scars, but the freckles … ." A soft, musical sigh trickled from her swollen, bleeding lips as she curled in against the Spectre. "I'm tired, Nihlus. I just want to go home, but … ."
Martin pushed past Garrus to kneel by the captain's feet, his hands resting on her knee. "Why did you take off, Shepard? We've been worried sick and searching for hours."
"I was told to go," she replied, her voice soft but brittle-sounding. "I didn't want to go back to the SR2 … it's not my home." She shrugged. "I just started walking, ended up here. Beat the shit out a handful of guys, which felt pretty good … won enough cash to pay for a tattoo." Reaching out, she placed a heavy hand on Martin's head. "I'm tired."
"And, ever so slightly drunk?" Martin asked, a heavy scowl creasing his face. He reached up and took her hand in his, holding it between both of his. The tenderness in that contact set Garrus's plates burning again, shame slithering just beneath them. Even if it wasn't Shepard, she believed she was, and his hurting her … .
Suddenly, it took every ounce of his will not to turn and bolt from the room. One of the things he loved most about Shepard was the sweet, sensitive heart under the soldier and all the masks. If the woman sitting in front of him was Shepard … spirits … he deserved so much worse than a rocket to the face.
Shepard shook her head, pulling him out of his stew. "No, haven't had anything other than bottled water to drink. I think I got kicked in the back of the head a little too hard. Must have rattled my cybernetics. That krogan was big."
"A krogan. You were naked wrestling a krogan? Of course you were," Martin said, matter of factly and sighed. "You asked someone to tattoo freckles onto your face, so I'm going to say that's a firm on something being rattled loose." His brows rose, and he grinned as he leaned in. "Although I can actually see the tattooed ones. That's weird. It's like there are glowing bugs on your face."
Shepard chuckled and gave him a shove. "You're nuts, kid. That's probably why I love you."
"Let's go back to base," Nihlus said, looking up at Garrus, who nodded. "Dr. Chakwas has your test results, so we'll run you through a shower to wash the blood off, seal you up, and the doc can convince you of what the kid and I already know. All right?"
Bloodshot green eyes looked up at Garrus for the first time, their gaze watery and unfocused. "I won't be arrested the second I set foot in the base?"
Garrus couldn't force any words out past the rock lodged in his throat, but shook his head and looked down. His silence was probably for the best. He'd said quite enough already. If she was Shepard, the base was as much her home as theirs, and if she wasn't … well, the least he could do was give her somewhere safe to figure things out.
Nihlus stood, pulling her up with him. She let out a strangled sort of moan-gasp combination, that spun the Spectre around. "What?" He lifted her tunic—spirits, it was just soaked in blood—and cursed. "Dear spirits, Shepard. What in the name … ?" He took her hand and led her to the door and through. "We need to get you to Dr. Chakwas. What were you thinking fighting with your skin … ?" The lecture trailed off as if he'd transferred power from comms to the engines, deciding to just get her out of there.
"Hey, tiny!" a voice roared. "You owe me a hundred credits. I don't know how, but you cheated."
A flood of bodies poured into the hallway, pushing Garrus back the way he'd come, the crowd no doubt trying to escape the path of destruction. The old protective instinct kicked in and kicked in hard, driving Garrus through the crowd, his elbows punching him a hole as he fought his way to Shepard. He emerged from the darkness, the spotlights above the pit blinding him.
"Garrus! Jump back and left!" Shepard shouted out of the glare.
The general did as commanded, a krogan flying through the space he'd occupied the moment before, slamming into the bleachers next to him, the fight over before it began. Shepard just stretched her shoulders, rolled her neck and turned back to Nihlus.
Okay, one big tick under the 'real Shepard' column. Garrus's eyes locked on that thin back and the short, red hair that ended just above a massive slash of scar tissue across the bottom third of her skull. One mandible flicked. He'd obeyed her order without a second thought. Did some part of him know it was her? Or had it just been programming? Hear an order, obey it?
They grabbed a cab right out in front of the club, Nihlus guiding Shepard into the back seat. She tucked her feet up on the seat beside her and burrowed in against the Spectre's side. Garrus watched her surreptitiously through the rear mirror, as comforted by Nihlus's caretaking as he'd been disturbed by it before.
The trip back to the base took less than a half hour. Garrus let the other two take Shepard inside, pausing to talk to the cadets and friends in the lobby. He sat on a couch, trying to ignore the drumming pain and nausea for almost an hour before it got the better of him. For a day that should have been spent heavily medicated in a bed, he'd put on a lot of klicks. He excused himself, promising to spend more time catching up with everyone once he'd done a little more healing. Regardless of how the evidence fell on the Shepard issue, he intended to follow his doctor's advice and spend the next few days in bed.
Garrus walked into his quarters, his talons cutting into the floor with a faint screech as he saw Shepard standing next to his bed, her back to the door. A towel wrapped around her, the thick, blue material revealing what had upset Nihlus at the club. Huge black bands of bruising slashed across her pale, glistening skin, and the wounds from her cybernetics slowly wept blood, even after she'd showered. And she had showered. The smell of her filled the apartment, warm and soft and sweet.
The scent burrowed down into his chest, vivisecting him far more brutally than his abductors had. He swayed, the dizziness burning through his head until all he could smell was frosted metal. Lifting a talon to his nose, he brushed away a slow drip, his glove coming away blue.
She didn't turn around. "Nihlus thought you'd feel better if I showered here, where you could keep an eye on us," she said, her voice low and gentle. "He just went to get my belt. I forgot it when I chased you this morning. Once we get all these wounds sealed, we'll head up to see the doc."
Shepard turned just far enough to hold up the stasis cube containing the head of the lily he'd placed on Shepard's coffin. Examining it with a strange, haunted look on her face, she said, "These are my favourite. Nihlus says everyone placed one on my coffin." Looking over her shoulder, she held up the cube. "Not you, I guess."
Garrus sniffed and then cleared his throat, swallowing a mouthful of blood. "I'll leave you to get dressed." He spun and strode for the door, the urge to just throw caution to the wind … the need to hold that body in his arms again so strong that it came dangerously close to bulling aside his common sense. If he stayed there … if he looked into those eyes and had to explain about that lily … .
"Isn't there any part of you that wants me to be for real, Garrus?" she called after him, her voice drifting on that damned scent, softer and sweeter than the perfume of her shampoo.
Despite his best effort, his feet stopped moving just inside the door, two hand widths from escape. "I buried Kahri with the stem from that lily," he replied, his voice equally quiet, but coming out like sandpaper to her silk, "so that someday, I could give her the rest when death reunited us." Allowing his heart to reach back just for a second, he said, "There isn't a cell in my body that doesn't want you to be my Shepard."
He cleared the gravel from his throat and wiped his nose again. "That's why I've got to keep the walls in place. I can't afford to let you trick me." The pain … the empty aching hole that had awaited him each morning when he woke from his dreams of her, rose up … dark and terrible and hungry, a black hole desperate to drag him in. A sharp, ragged breath pushed it back far enough for him to say, "I wouldn't survive it."
Her bare feet padded across the floor, quick and light as they approached him. Slamming the walls back in place, he leaped through the door and rushed to the elevator. When the doors closed behind him, he sagged against the railing, quiet tears accompanying the keen that spooled from his second larynx … intractable and unrelenting. What was he supposed to do if it turned out to be a lie? Damn it all.
A sharp angry scream tore straight from his gut. Why? Hadn't losing her the first time torn enough of him apart? Gripping the rail with both hands, he slammed his foot into the wall. The pain, the longing, the fear all crystallized in the action as he kicked it over and over until he stumbled, nearly going down … spent.
The door opened on the twenty-fourth floor, revealing his father standing halfway down the corridor. Herros turned, no doubt alerted by the elevator chime, and bolted toward him, sliding the last metre before hopping the door track. He wrapped an arm around Garrus, truly the only thing that kept the general on his feet as his knees buckled.
"Pari." Garrus wrapped both arms around his father's neck. "I can't lose her again."
Herros nodded and touched his brow to Garrus's. "I know. Come on, Betru, I've got you. Let's get you back into bed." His father held Garrus up until the general's legs steadied enough to move, and then, still bearing most of his son's weight, helped Garrus down the hall to his room. Dr. Chakwas met them halfway and took the other side, saying nothing despite her disapproving glare.
Numb, cold, and exhausted, Garrus collapsed into the chair next to his bed, just staring up at his pari and the doctor as they worked, stripping off his armour and dressing him in a warm, light tunic and trousers.
"You've set yourself back days, General," the doctor said, her voice firm but not unkind. She ran her scans, tutting softly under her breath, and then gave him what felt like every injection available in the galaxy. Numb and placid, he just sat there, feeling heavier and weaker than he could ever remember feeling.
Rallying the last of his energy, Garrus reached up and snagged her hand. "I need to be there when you tell her." He didn't have the energy to argue. "Please, just help me stand there when you tell her."
Chakwas looked over his head at Herros, and suddenly Garrus felt nine cycles old again, the adults deciding his fate without consulting him. But then Herros nodded and Chakwas let out a long sigh.
"Very well, but as soon as Shepard has her results, you get right back into bed." She strode to the door. "I'll get you a mild booster, but with your concussion, I can't be giving you any stims, so stay put and rest until we're ready." Grumbling under her breath about having listened to her father and become a pediatrician, she palmed the door control and headed off down the corridor.
"Where have you been, Garrus?" Herros sat on the side of the bed. "The last time I saw you, you had just come out of surgery. Then you just disappeared, and didn't answer your messages. I've been worried stiff." The general's pari reached out and stroked his fringe and down the back of his neck, the touch soothing.
"I got a vid message … ." Garrus shook his head, just a slight, and gloriously pain-free, tremor to either side. "Doesn't matter. I have spent my day being a miserable ass to people who don't deserve it, and then trying to make up for the damage."
"And when did Captain Shepard show up?" The question came out carefully, as if Garrus's father expected it to provoke him, but it didn't. He'd fought through a very long day since that rage.
"She rode in with five people, completely obliterated the mercs. Sabotaged their mechs, turned them on each other … just … ." He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting out a long, weary breath. "She saved us all, and then I accused her of being a fake or a clone … and then I took a rocket to the face."
"So, a full couple of days."
His pari's tone tweaked him, provoking a low, rumbling laugh. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He spotted Nihlus, the torin standing a head and neck above everyone else, and sat up. Shepard walked … well, limped, really … at the Spectre's side, leaning close against him. A soft smile greeted the sight, and once again, gratitude poured through him like hot amarceru on a cold day. Nihlus had really come through … for Shepard … for all of them, the voice of reason and compassion when all Garrus had been able to do was react.
Chakwas led them into the room across the hall, ushering Shepard up onto a bed, the ever present omnitool sparking to life. Whatever it showed the doctor, Garrus could read Chakwas's displeasure on her face. After more than ten minutes, both Chakwas and Nihlus walked out, leaving Shepard alone, sitting hunched over and looking very small on the bed.
"General." Dr. Chakwas's voice startled him. She nodded. "Come on. Anderson will be here in a moment as well." She looked up at Herros. "He'll need a hand."
Garrus looked up and slung an arm around his father's shoulders, more than willing to accept the help. Once up, though, whatever the doctor had given him helped, his legs a lot more stable as he walked across the hallway and entered Shepard's room. Circling around behind the bed, he stood near the foot, out of the way. His father backed away to stand in the corner.
For her part, Shepard stared down between her feet, eyes refusing to leave the floor. Garrus's stare followed hers, not sure what to say or do. He knew that the woman sitting in front of him believed she was Shepard. Whatever or whoever else she was, she believed it with every particle of her being. The anguish in her eyes when they'd found her at that dive assured him of that without anyone saying a single word.
And of course, Nihlus believed. The Spectre sensed the other half of the beacon memories, and that was all the proof he needed. Garrus glanced up at her red, marked up face, mandibles flailing a little as he saw the tears rolling over the inflamed skin. He slid one foot a hand's width toward her, but stopped when she flinched away from him.
Chakwas walked in the door, Anderson close behind her. Nihlus followed them to the threshold, but then stopped in the open door. The Spectre smiled when Shepard looked up, then nodded toward the others as if asking her to give them another shot. Garrus's heart contracted, feeling as though a singularity pulled the muscle in on itself.
He was one of them … one of the others … the doubters. The ungrateful bastards who looked the miracle in the face and then spat on it. His stare slid back to the floor. Over the past two cycles had he fallen more in love with the memory … the idea of Shepard … than he'd been in love with the woman? A soft keen escaped his control, a mixture of sorrow and gentle laughter. She'd been so very restful, his dead love. Shepard … well, Shepard was anything but restful. She was impossible, and fierce … so fierce and so scared … but damn it, hadn't he loved her hard enough in those few months to pull him through two years?
This … he looked up at her face, red and weeping clear fluid … . Getting her freckles tattooed back on … that was so painfully his Kahri … . He reached out, bracing himself against the bed as the singularity released his heart, and it fell into his gut. Suddenly he felt as though he floated about three feet above and behind his body, watching himself through a haze of racing pulse and sweating hide. Chakwas didn't need to tell him what the tests said, not really. Only Shepard would go and torture herself to put her freckles back because he … .
Anderson walked straight over to Shepard, taking her face gently between his hands, and shook his head. "Nihlus and Martin told me where they found you." He looked her over, wincing at each wound and swelling. "Pit fighting? Have you lost your mind? What have you done to yourself, you crazy girl?"
She sniffed and shrugged. "Even you … ." She shrugged again, a helpless sort of gesture as she struggled to form words. "No one believed it was me." A careless hand flicked at the tears on her cheeks, and she winced away from the pain. "Hell, I don't even know if it's me. I was tired of seeing a stranger in the mirror, Anderson. So tired."
Anderson stepped into her, still holding her face between gentle hands. Garrus arched his neck, surprised as the stoic captain kissed Shepard's brow, aiming for the only place spared the needle. "It was shock, child. That's all. Someone gives you a gift this big … it just takes a bit to accept that it's real."
Shepard drew back, a mask of comical surprise greeting her mentor … her father's uncharacteristic display of affection, but it lasted only a second and then she threw her arms around him. Tucking her face in against the captain's shoulder, one of the toughest soldiers Garrus had ever met clung to Anderson like a frightened child and cried.
Anderson rubbed her back and whispered soft apologies and words of comfort into her ear. "I never meant for the things I said to hurt you." He pulled back a little and sniffed, cracking his neck as his throat worked, the stiff upper lip fighting against his tears.
"I kept asking them to let me contact you," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Anderson. I'm so sorry."
The captain shook his head and pulled her back in, one hand rubbing her back. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, child. Nothing at all." He let out a long breath. "I'm the one … . Martin stormed aboard the Normandy … read me the Riot Act, but he shouldn't have had to. I'm sorry, Shepard. I was just … ." He pulled away, taking her face between his hands again. "It was shock. All those prayers answered … ." He looked down and cleared his throat. "It was just shock."
Garrus's eyes never left Shepard as, again, the purity of the woman's reaction pulled at Garrus, insisting that he believe. He'd only seen Kahri cry once, but it had been the same, bared-to-the-soul deluge of emotion.
Chakwas stepped forward, her ever-present omnitool glowing on her forearm. "Well, I can assure you all that this is the original Jane Shepard."
Anderson stepped back, his hand sliding down Shepard's arm to grip her hand. Garrus took a deep breath, torn between the fear and the part of him that wanted to shove Anderson out of the way, scoop her tiny form into his arms and bury his face in her neck. The need to just breathe her in, to confirm through every sense other than his eyes that she was real, and there … . He clenched his teeth and stared into the doctor's steely eyes.
Chakwas glared right back, meeting his gaze with undisguised anger and accusation. He faced it without blinking. He deserved it. He'd told Shepard to get out of his base and let him do his paperwork.
"A great deal of her tissue has been replaced and regrown," the doctor continued, "but her DNA is all thirty-one years old, as are the cells of the inner lens of her eye and the oocyte I tested. There is intense cybernetic infiltration and cell replication going on, but her mitochondria are also an exact match to our Jane Shepard." She smiled and reached up to squeeze Shepard's shoulder. "Welcome back, Captain, you were sorely missed."
Shepard laid her hand over the doctor's. "Thanks, Doc. It's good to have someone I trust tell me that I'm not some sort of replicant." She glanced at Nihlus, who still watched through the window, the smile that warmed her face … the only word Garrus could think of was loving.
Why shouldn't it be? Nihlus and Martin were the only two who just accepted her. Nihlus had held her through the night while Garrus and Anderson were too busy worrying about what sort of security risk she posed to consider the person they loved most was metres away and in pain. He let out a long, deep sigh that came out a lot noisier than he intended.
Anderson drew back a little. "I expect you over on the Normandy for dinner. There are people eager to see you." A gentle, almost reverent hand caressed her cheek, careful of those horrible, glowing fissures in her skin. A quick glance over the captain's shoulder just brushed Garrus. "And if by then, you're plus one or two or three, bring them along." He kissed Shepard's brow again. "Use medigel. Get rid of the freckles."
She sniffed and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks …" A teasing grin broke through the tears to curl one corner of her mouth. "… Dad."
A smile brighter and wider than Garrus had ever seen on any man accompanied Anderson's sigh and a long-suffering head shake. "Forget the test results … now, I know it's you." He squeezed Shepard's hand. "I"ll see you at 1800." Anderson looked back at Garrus, holding the general's gaze for long seconds before nodding and heading to the door.
Garrus nodded and let out a long breath. Yeah, they'd been frightened fools together, but now they both had their greatest love back in their lives … and neither of them deserved her.
Dr. Chakwas followed Anderson to the door, but kept her stare on Shepard. "I'll be admitting you as soon as you're finished here, and tomorrow we're running a full battery on those implants. I don't want to have to rely on that woman for my information." The glanced back when she reached the threshold, sending her fiery glare straight past Shepard to Garrus. He bowed his head a little and nodded. Shepard had nothing more to fear from his disbelief.
The door closed, then the privacy curtains closed. Subtle. It drew a nervous sort of chuckle from Shepard, but she didn't move off the table.
Garrus frowned, his brain very suddenly and very completely blank.
"So, you're okay with me, now? You won't be second guessing my intentions and orders?" She slid down off the bed but remained facing straight ahead, holding herself stiff and crooked with pain. After a moment, she nodded. "I'll take your silence for assent. We can arrange a meeting in a couple of days to organize things. I think Nihlus will want to come with me aboard the SR2 for a while, but … ."
Before he even knew he was going to move, Garrus hit the floor on his knees in front of her. He raised his hands, a silent entreaty to keep her from leaving when she staggered back a step. One hand reached forward, just pressing against her stomach as if testing to see if she remained solid. Damn, did he still doubt?
When he looked up, he realized that their eyes were at a level. Had he truly forgotten how tiny she was? So impossibly tiny and so impossibly strong. What could he have done? What could any of them have possibly done to earn such a huge miracle? The fist closed around his throat again.
Five fingers closed around his talons where they pressed against her warm, soft flesh. "I'm real," she said, her voice barely stirring the air. "I don't know how or why … well, I know what Miranda says about why—"
"Shepard … " Forcing his voice past the choke hold, he broke through what sounded as though it was winding up into a lengthy, rambling explanation. "... Kahri, I don't care." He shook his head to stall any reply, and then she pressed his hand over her heart, and every single thing he wanted to say fled once more.
"It still belongs to you."
And then his arms were full of her and the soft music of her chuckle was everywhere. Gentle hands cradled his jaw, but he pushed in, tucking his face into her neck, half lifting her. She still weighed nothing. His other hand pressed against the site of the massive wound that had stolen her from him. For those moments, so much joy and love and terror roared through him that he felt sure he'd burn with it.
He took a deep breath, filling his entire being with her scent. It had faded from her pillow and belongings so long ago, and he welcomed it in. Muscles that tied in knots the moment she died, relaxed, and aches uneased in almost two years drifted away. That sweet, slightly spicy jasmine scent. Yes, the hot carbon scent of her cybernetics and the bite of medigel and sealant wormed their way through, but it was her.
Then her arms wrapped around his head and neck, careful of his wounds as she held him to her breast, and those soft, impossible lips pressed to his brow. "I love you, Garrus Vakarian," she said, the words strong and ringing, a declaration that dared the universe to deny it. "And I'm so very sorry I waited to tell you that in a stupid vid message."
A-N: So here it is … the moment I know everyone has been waiting for … well, unless they are cheering for team Nihlus … and maybe even then. I hope that it did not disappoint. Onward and upward. I had a fantastically gorgeous piece of art commissioned that I will post on FFN as the cover image for the time being … but it will be embedded in the story on AO3. If any of you FFNer's use AO3, drop by, we get some pretty whacky conversations going there. As always, love to you readers and reviewers. You keep me going.