Two hours earlier:
iSid Lantar crept through the woods just inside the tree line, heading for the Shepards' barn. He'd decided after this most recent showdown between his partner and Ms. Shepard that enough was enough. He had to put an end to Kenny's ridiculous obsession, so he was going to disable the still once and for all. Hopefully throwing a wrench in the gears of their operation would keep Leng away. He felt like a thief in the night sneaking onto their property like this, but it was the only thing he could think to do.
He opened the small inset door and clicked on his flashlight. The still sat in the gloom in an unused stable, exactly where it was the last time he'd seen it. He disconnected the oil tankard and the hoses and coiled the hoses around his arm, shining the flashlight around the cavernous space. The beam shone briefly on a patch of matte metal and he saw a hulking shape sitting on a trailer, covered in a tarp. It was the wrong shape for farm equipment, and huge. He went over and lifted up a corner of the tarp, and gaped like a fish at what lay under it. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, and at first he thought it was Soviet-made, but the characters scrawled on the edge of the cockpit weren't Cyrillic—at least not any form of the language he'd ever seen. Lantar had been a mechanic in the Air Force and knew his way around aircraft, but the configuration of the instrument panel on this thing made no sense at all. There was an open panel on the hull that exposed the slightly charred innards, and what he saw made him uneasy in his inability to recognize anything that even remotely resembled an engine. At least, any engine he'd ever seen.
What the hell was going on here? First, he thought he'd seen the silhouette of someone in the Shepards' house, but it had looked all wrong. And then it had seen him, one glowing blue eye staring daggers at him. He couldn't make out any details, just that whoever it was, was big. Was there some connection between the stranger and this ship? What did that mean if there was?
"Hey there, Sid," said a voice behind him, and Lantar nearly jumped clean out of his skin. He whirled around, his flashlight beam darting around, hoping John hadn't discovered him. Who he did see was far worse.
"Hey, Kenny," he said, trying (and failing miserably) not to look as guilty as he felt. "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same thing, Sid," he drawled, advancing on him. "I saw you commandeer a cruiser and try to ditch me back at the station, and I just knew you were going to do something stupid. Looks like I was right." He glanced at the hoses coiled around Sid's arm and grinned. Sid thought he looked like a shark when he did that, all teeth and none of the happiness such an expression was supposed to contain.
"Kenny, you've got to leave these people alone. They're just minding their own business, they're not hurting anybody." But that wasn't the point, and he knew it.
"'These people' are a threat to all the good, respectable people in this community. They're bringing coloreds here, letting them work their land, and thumbing their nose at me with this . . . this shit!" He kicked the oil tankard and sent it rolling into the corner. "I aim to make sure they pay for it, Sid. I thought you were better than this, but here you are—and doing what exactly?" He looked like he was going to start throwing punches when his eyes lit on the hulking shape behind Sid. "What's this?"
"Nothing, just some broken machinery," Sid said hurriedly, but Kenny just pushed him aside and lifted the tarp. His mouth fell open and he ran a finger along the hull, and his eyes took on an evil sort of merriment that did not bode well for the Shepards. Sid suddenly felt ill and wished to god he'd never joined the force.
"I think we'll be paying mister and missus Shepard a visit tomorrow," Kenny said softly. Sid shook his head and Kenny's eyes narrowed with rage. In a move almost too fast to see, he drew his pistol and aimed it at Sid's eye. "You'll be coming with me, won't you Sid?"
All he could do was nod, and try to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess.
It was finished. The numerical display on the transmitter showed it was ready to go; all he had to do was activate it. Garrus sat at the sewing table staring at the unassuming metal box for the better part of an hour, telling himself it was the only way.
Didn't make it any easier, though.
He ran a talon along the hidden seam on the side and a panel popped open. He hovered over the button for a moment, then pressed it. The future was now coming at him with like an event horizon and he could practically feel the weight bearing down on him. There was a creak from behind him, and he turned to see Shepard watching him. Her eyes were puffy with sleep and her hair stuck out in crazy corkscrews in every direction, and she gave him a tired smile.
"So, how long do you think it'll be before they send someone?" she asked, trying not to sound as dejected as she felt.
"A day, maybe two. It depends on whether they have a ship they can deploy immediately or not." He sat beside her and tried to smooth her hair down, but it kept springing back up.
"How bad is it?" she asked. Having curly hair made for some legendary bedhead.
"It's not so bad, if you don't mind looking like you picked a fight with a Tesla coil and lost." She laughed and smacked his chest in mock indignation, then headed off to the shower to regain control over her hair.
The morning dawned gray and rainy, and Shepard decided that it was a good day for canning. Garrus sat at the kitchen table cleaning his rifle, occasionally looking up to watch her. He'd never given much thought to the work required for preserving food since nearly everything was automated in Citadel space, and he was surprised at how much time was involved. Shepard had three projects going at once—simmering apple butter, brining cucumbers to make pickles, and cooking down tomato sauce—and a huge pot of boiling water for sanitizing the jars. Soon she had to open the windows to let the steam outside and the drapes fluttered in the cool breeze while the rain tapped on the sill. It was a very homey sort of feeling, and Garrus felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.
John came in just before ten o'clock looking worn around the edges. He had gone out to the guest house for beers with the J's and it had evidently gone late into the night. After a tired 'good morning' to Garrus and his sister, he made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and checked the cookie jar.
"The cookies are gone," he remarked sadly.
"So, what are you going to do about that?" Shepard asked, holding out a spoonful of hot apple butter for him to taste.
"Ask my favorite sister nicely to make some more?" He dutifully tasted it and hummed his approval, so she started ladling it into jars.
"You know, I don't remember you breaking your fingers recently."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
She kissed his cheek and gave him a light smack to round it off. "Bake your own damn cookies."
"I'll clean the bathroom for you."
"Chocolate chip it is."
Garrus laughed, shaking his head; they sounded so much like Solana and himself. The phone rang in the hallway and John went to answer it. Shepard cocked her head to listen in.
"Hello? Oh, hey Sid." Sid? What could he be calling for? Shepard wondered. "What? What the hell do you need that for? Well, can it wait until later?" He muttered something that sounded like 'up your nose with a rubber hose, buddy,' then said, "No, I'll tell her. All right, Sid. 'Bye." John came back into the kitchen looking like he wanted to throw something out the window. "Sid wants us to come in and sign off on an affidavit that basically says that they're not gonna press charges against you for 'harassing a police officer.'"
Shepard's face went from astonishment to spitting rage in about .5 seconds. "What?! That asshole! Where does he get off threatening us with that shit? I've a mind to go down there and shove my foot so far up his and Leng's asses that they'll taste boot leather for a week."
"Wow, Jane. Tell me how you really feel, why don't you?" said John with a wry smile.
"Sorry, it's just—well, you know how it is. Anyway, I can't go right now. I've got all this stuff on the stove and I can't leave it just now."
"It's all right. If he really needs your signature, I'll tell him you'll be by later." He left with a sigh, taking his uneaten sandwich with him.
About thirty minutes later, a familiar HCPD cruiser pulled up. Garrus was the first to see them and he growled.
"Shepard." His sub-vocals were pitched low with anger. She looked out the window and swore.
"What the hell? Sid just called . . ." Her eyes went wide. "Hey, you think he wanted to get us out of the house so they could poke around without an audience?"
"I think that's a very likely scenario." Garrus was hurriedly reassembling his gun and Shepard went to get the shotgun; she'd be damned if she let this go on any longer. The situation had progressed far past a simple nuisance to outright harassment and she had had enough.
"If they make a move toward the barn, I want you to go up to the attic and keep an eye on them with your scope. There should be a clear vantage point to the barn from up there."
"What if they turn hostile?" he asked, all business; he wasn't treating her like a damsel in distress, just forming a contingency plan, and Shepard liked him even more for it.
"I'd prefer it if you didn't shoot them but if you have to, go for a non-lethal shot."
"Gotcha." He stood to one side of the window and pulled the drapes aside. "They're going to the barn. Go handle them; I've got your six." He was gone in a flash, and she wondered how someone so big could move so silently.
Shepard went out the back door to the porch and watched Sid and Leng make their way across the wide lawn through a gap in the plywood. Once they were in the barn, Shepard slipped out and jogged toward them, the rain soaking her through to the skin but she barely noticed. She peered into the barn through the half-open doorway and watched as Leng went immediately to the ship, her blood freezing in her veins.
He knows! How does he know?
"So considerate of them to leave it on a trailer," Leng was saying. "Should make it easier to get it out of here."
"What are you going to do?" Sid asked. "Call the newspaper?"
"No, I'm taking this thing into Quantico. I figure I can bargain for a promotion and a reward bonus for this."
"Kenny, we really shouldn't be here—"
"This is really the wrong time to grow a set of balls, Sid." Leng's hand went to the butt of his gun and just hovered there, but the threat was clear as day. "Or have you forgotten what we talked about?"
Shepard was beginning to see who was the real villain here and spared a moment to feel sorry for Sid Lantar. Oh Sid, you poor dumb bastard, what have you gotten yourself into?
Shepard glanced up at the attic windows and thought she could see a glint of blue there. She nodded and pointed to the doors. I'm going in. The barrel of Garrus' rifle poked out slightly in response. Taking a deep breath, she shoved the big sliding doors open as wide as she could to provide him with the best view and leveled her shotgun at Leng. Sid jumped and couldn't have looked guiltier if he tried, but Leng just looked . . . blank, somehow. Vacant. And that was more frightening than anything.
"Morning, officers. Mind telling me what the fuck you're doing on my property?"
"Miss Shepard," Leng said in that irritating exaggerated drawl of his. "You really shouldn't point that thing at me."
"I'll put it down if you leave right now. This has gone on long enough, Kenny—you need to leave me and my brother alone."
"When you're keeping such interesting things in here?" He ran his hand along the edge of the trailer and smiled. "What are you doing with this, Miss Shepard?"
"I don't think that's any of your business."
"Oh, I think it is." He moved closer to her, and the look in his eyes was more alien than any she'd ever seen on Garrus. Shepard held the gun tighter.
"Don't move, Kenny, or I swear to god I'll blow off your knee caps."
"Miss Shepard—Jane—I can't let you do that," said Sid, unsnapping the strap on his holster.
"I don't believe for a second you're in on this, Sid, but if you draw that gun this will not end well for you," Shepard warned, hoping like hell Garrus didn't have an itchy trigger finger. After a tense moment, Sid's hand dropped back down to his side and she breathed a sigh of relief, right before Leng used the distraction to dart forward and wrench her shotgun to the side. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her into the doorway, his grip crushing the wind out of her and his thigh ground hard between her legs to pin her hips.
"You uppity bitch. I ought to—" But he never got to tell her what he ought to do, because at that moment a shot rang out and Leng's calf gave out from under him in a spray of blood and he fell to the floor, screaming in pain. Sid gaped at the wound and backed away with his hands up, looking for the source of the shot.
That was when Garrus came charging into the barn, his rifle aimed at Leng's head. And he was pissed.
Although Shepard had known what Garrus would look like to other humans—that is, a terrifying alien beast with scales, talons, and teeth—he had never been anything but kind to her and John. In the moment he appeared in the doorway, though, she could appreciate for the first time just how dangerous he really was. His mandibles were flicking fast displaying needle-like teeth, his blue eyes blazed with fury, and the way he moved made it obvious that he was every inch a predator. A small part of her, a primitive part that remembered hunting wild animals in ancient forests, raised its head and met his savagery with its own.
Garrus stowed his rifle on his back and took off his gloves to free his talons. Sid Lantar had backed into the corner and his eyes darted back and forth between Garrus and Shepard. Her lack of reaction to the alien's sudden appearance confirmed his suspicions and he was suddenly very glad his ruse to get both Shepards out of the house didn't work; he had a feeling that her presence was the only thing keeping both of them alive right now.
"Shepard, take Sid's gun." She crouched before Sid and held out a hand, waiting. He just stared at her with wide eyes and didn't move.
She raised her eyebrows and said, "You heard the man, give me your gun."
Sid gaped at her. "You can understand it?" Shepard mentally face-palmed herself; of course, they didn't have translators.
"Yes, it's a long story. Just give me your gun, Sid." He hesitated, then took the pistol from its holster, dumped the bullets into his palm, and handed it over.
"Now come over here and translate for this son-of-a-bitch," Garrus snarled, mostly for Leng's benefit. It was more gratifying than she cared to admit to see that smug look wiped so thoroughly off Leng's face. Shepard stood next to Garrus and when he spoke, echoed his words.
"I should beat you senseless right now. Guys like you aren't worth the air you breathe, but I'm feeling generous today so I'll let you leave here in one piece . . . with a few conditions." They waited for Leng to acknowledge and, after giving Shepard a look that could melt solid rock, nodded. "One—you will never come to this place again, not for any reason. Two—if anyone asks, you accidentally shot yourself while cleaning your gun. Say it back to me."
Leng said nothing, fixing the turian with a defiant glare that was diminished somewhat by the fear that leaked though his every movement. Garrus stomped on his instep and Leng howled in pain.
"Christ, all right! I accidentally shot myself while cleaning my gun."
"Good. Now, don't forget that story because if I find out you've told anyone about me or this—" he gestured to his ship, "—then I'll come find you. And trust me," he said, leaning in close and growling, "I will find you. Are we clear?"
Leng nodded again and Garrus let him go with a shove that sent him sprawling. He hauled himself up with a grimace of pain and hobbled back to the cruiser.
Shepard handed Sid his gun back and he took it, fumbling with the holster's strap with numb fingers. "What will you do now?" she asked.
"I think I've been a cop long enough," he answered with a weak chuckle. "Maybe I'll try my hand at construction or something."
Shepard smiled and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "That sounds like a good idea, Sid."
"He won't just drop it, you know. That guy is . . . there's something wrong with him, Miss Shepard. I know that there are a lot of racist folks 'round here, but Kenny takes it to a whole 'nother level. You be careful, ma'am."
"I will, Sid. Thanks." And, with one last nervous glance to the turian, he left to make sure Leng didn't do anything stupid on the way to the car.
As soon as Sid was out of sight, Garrus went to her and looked her over. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, all traces of anger gone.
"My neck's a little sore and it'll probably hurt like hell tomorrow, but other than that, no." He touched the bruises that were already forming there and had to restrain the urge to go back out there and shoot Leng again, preferably in the chest this time.
"If this is going to cause you any trouble . . ."
"Nah, I should be okay. John has an alibi, and once you're . . ." She had to clear her throat before she was able to say the words. "Once you're gone, there's nothing else to back up his story if he decides to tell the truth—which would be a really stupid thing to do, even for him. I'll probably be investigated, but I've managed to dodge jail before. No reason I shouldn't be able to now."
Garrus allowed himself to relax a little. "Good, because I'd hate to feel bad about shooting that bastard."
She laughed. "Me, too." There was blood spattered on the floor and a few bloody foot prints leading to the door. "I need to clean this up, but first I have to know if whoever is coming to pick you up is going to be homing in on the transmitter. That could make for one hell of an awkward situation to explain to the neighbors, you know."
Garrus froze. "I hadn't given it much thought, but you're right. The woods behind your property seemed to reach pretty far from up above, if I'm remembering right."
"You are; they stretch a good ways out, maybe fifteen miles?"
"That should be enough of a buffer. I can camp out until I'm picked up, but I'll have to go tonight."
"I could come with you," she said, but she knew even before he started shaking his head that it wouldn't work.
"No, if anyone sees us together it could end badly for both of us."
"Have you figured out a way to explain how your ship got into my barn?" she asked, unconsciously stepping closer to touch his arm. His hands slipped around her waist and fidgeted with her shirt. He was really going to miss this, more than he thought he would.
"I'll just tell them you found it and took it before I could stop you. The Hierarchy has rules in place for this sort of thing—giving up tech is permissible, but no physical interaction."
Shepard laughed out loud at that despite the sinking feeling in her chest at the thought of him leaving, or perhaps because of it. Better to laugh than cry. "I'd say we broke the hell out of that rule, cowboy."
His mandibles flared wide and he drew her closer, bending down to her level and nudging her jaw with his mouth. "Yeah, but it was worth it."
"Definitely worth it." She kissed him, a long lingering press of lips to plates that warmed her to her core and made the muscles in her stomach flutter in a way that made her feel lightheaded. Damn, it just wasn't fair—the first time in a decade she had feelings for someone and it had to end like this.
He broke away from her reluctantly and touched her forehead with his own before going back to the house to gather his things. John pulled into the driveway just as Garrus returned to the barn and Shepard waved him over. He took one look at the bag slung over Garrus' shoulder and the look on his sister's face and knew what was going on.
"So, I guess this is goodbye," he said, and shook Garrus' hand.
"Guess so."
"It was really great to meet you, Garrus. I hope your boss doesn't give you a hard time for this."
"I'm more worried about the mountain of paperwork I'm going to have to fill out for wrecking a military ship on an alien planet."
"Bureaucracy's the same everywhere, huh?"
"Yeah, it seems that way."
John pulled him into a tight hug before releasing him with a hearty clap on the shoulder. "You take care of yourself, and remember—you're welcome here anytime you happen to be in the area."
"I'll remember that," Garrus chuckled. He fished around in his bag for a moment and came out with a datapad, which he handed to Shepard. "For you. I've got the code for this one programmed into my omnitool, so I can send you messages."
"Thank you," she whispered. His hand stayed on hers for a second longer, his eyes meeting hers with the knowledge that there wasn't anything left to say. And so it was that, with only one backward glance, Garrus disappeared into the woods. Although he left with much less fanfare than he'd arrived, Shepard felt the impact even more as the blue of his armor faded into the darkening shadows beneath the trees.
John put a steadying hand on her back and said, "Don't worry, sis. He'll be back."
"I hope you're right." Dammit, she refused to cry. Not now. Maybe later when she was alone, but not right now.
"I'm always right." He pulled her tight against his side and she leaned against his solid warmth as they made their way back home.
That night, they watched the sky intently for hours, neither of them saying much. It was well past midnight when a shadow only slightly darker than the sky appeared in the distance and, as it came near, she could see that it was surrounded by a faintly glowing force field. It flew silently into the trees, disappeared for seven minutes and twenty seven seconds, then left just as quickly as it came. Shepard waved, not knowing if Garrus could see her.
His ship was gone by morning, and Shepard tried to get back to business as usual, but the homestead seemed emptier without him in it.