Chapter Eight:
Garrus spent the hour she had disappeared wondering what he should do. He knew chasing after her was unacceptable, because it was clear that she was running from something. This time, that something was him. But she was running when she got on this ship, and was it selfish of him to want to be the one to make her stop? And if that wasn't possible, then he at least wanted to be the one to run with her.
They were both broken, shells of who they used to be, but maybe they could at least be broken together. How was it that human saying went – misery welcoming company?
Then, suddenly and out of no where, she came back. Beyond all hope and reason, she was here, leaning into him in a silent plea for comfort he knew she would never admit to. He had forgotten all about the shirt he had offered her, focused as he was on not thinking, but now he was tempted to nuzzle it. Or did he want to nuzzle her?
And yet, all of these thoughts were circling in his head, and he still didn't know her name. Did she even know his? She had called him Vakarian, but did he tell her his first name?
"You know, I don't think we ever properly introduced ourselves." He said as curiosity got the best of him. He glanced over at her, flicking his mandibles as he gauged her expression.
"Well, I didn't expect to spend the whole trip sharing a bench with you." She retorted quickly.
He laughed, "I'm Garrus," he said instead. He waited, watching her from the corner of his eyes, waiting for a response. For an instant he wondered if he was even going to get an answer. Had he been misreading the situation?
"My name is Jane," she said finally. "Jane Shepard."
Her name gave him pause, and for a moment he considered pushing her away with a bitter laugh. Shepard. Of course her name was Shepard. It seemed the death of the Commander would haunt him even now. For a moment he dared to think – even hope – that she was related to him, that in this world of darkness he had found one single thread back to his dearly departed friend. He knew she wasn't – John was an Alliance kid, born and raised in the military, roaming from spacecraft to spacecraft. Jane was Earthborn, an orphan who didn't know her own parents. The chances were slim, so slim that he dismissed them.
"I'm haunted by Shepard's," he joked, even though the thought wasn't at all funny. He sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling.
"I'm a very good looking ghost, then," she retorted with hardly a blink. "Am I allowed to ask why I've been demoted to specter?"
The word choice was unfortunate, but they didn't push him away. "If I tell you, you owe me something in return," he said instead. "It's personal."
She was silent for a moment and he wondered if she would object. It followed the rules of the game they had played up until now. He saw no reason to change them, especially if they would get him out of answering something he would rather leave well enough alone.
"Alright," she agreed after a moment, pressing her cheek against the coolness of his armor. "Deal."
A part of him had expected – even hoped – that she would say no. The commander had only just passed; it was all still so fresh. Was he really ready to start talking about it now, to a veritable stranger?
His mouth opened and he meant to change the subject. What came out was the answer.
"You heard about the Battle of the Citadel, right?" he asked, refusing to look at her. He wasn't certain he could tell her this – tell her about his best friend dying – if he was watching her. He didn't want to see the look that crossed her face when she decided he was a liar.
"Yeah, we heard about it," she said. "Big battle between Saren and the first human spectre."
"Well, that was my commanding officer," he said, a hint of pride slipping through his subvocals. He doubted she heard them. "I was recruited at the beginning of the mission to take down Saren, back when I was just a C-Sec officer. I was in charge of the investigation against Saren and I'd been taken off the case. Shepard let me join his crew after the Council made him a spectre. I flew with him for months, fighting geth and tracking down any clues we could. I was even there at the end. I watched as the Alliance fleet destroyed Sovereign and saved the Council on Shepard's command."
"And to thank him, they sent the Commander to the terminus systems," she murmured softly, still pressed against him. Was he still comforting her, or were their roles suddenly switched? "Were you there? When the geth shot the Normandy down?"
He shook his head, running his fingers over his face as if he could push the swelling emotions aside. "No. Shepard got me into spectre training, wrote me a letter of recommendation and everything. He wanted me to make my way up the ranks so when the time came we could face the reapers together, head on with the council at our backs." He laughed, a bitter sound that shocked even him. "All that work, and the Council just turned their back on him. On us."
"He was more than just a CO to you," Shepard – no, Jane said. She wasn't Shepard, he couldn't call her that. "He was a friend. I saw the vids of the funeral. The way people talked about him…" She shook her head, the faintest movement she could manage without extracting herself. "He was a good man. Everyone thought so."
Her words were comforting, but they just made bitter resentment clog his throat. He had to swallow the emotions down, force his anger back, because he couldn't take it out on her. Not when she was listening – not when she actually seemed to care that Shepard was dead. Or she at least cared that he cared. Not when she came back to him, even though he was certain all her instincts yelled at her otherwise.
"Everyone forgot about the Normandy after it was gone," he murmured, lowering his head and staring off into space. "No one talks about Wrex, or Liara, or Tali, and I only get recognized because John shoved me out of obscurity and into the spectre spotlight. Ashely gets recognized because she's human, because she's Alliance." Because Shepard loved her.
"Why do you think I left?" She asked, and he finally looked at her. She had that crooked grin again, only this time it was sadder than the others. "The Alliance forgets the ones that matter, every time. Once they have a figurehead, the people who worked to make things possible are forgotten. The people who are lost are forgotten."
"Is this when you tell me why you're on this ship?" He asked, glancing at her. "Fair is fair, after all."
"The reason I'm on this ship isn't nearly a fair trade," she shook her head. "I got on a ship cause I couldn't stay on Earth any more. It was so…quiet. Domestic. It drove me insane." She laughed, pulling away from his side to lean forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. "I left the Alliance to get away from the death, and I left Earth because there wasn't enough of it."
"So you board a ship to Omega, the hell hole of the galaxy," he said, watching her with sharp eyes. "Looking for a fight?"
"Hell, I didn't know what ticket I bought," she said. "That's the funny thing. I just bought a ticket, first one that got me away from Earth. This was it. Omega, though…it's what I'm used to. I can deal with that." She looked at him, a subtle glance that didn't escape his attention. "Why'd you go to Omega?"
He hesitated before answering, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his neck. How could he answer that? He wasn't even sure why he chose Omega. There had been some sort of consideration, yeah, and he'd thought about it, but he didn't put a lot of time into the decision.
"I'm tired of sitting and doing nothing," he said instead. "On Omega, there are no rules, no red tape to hold me back. I can do something, actually fight for something worth protecting. The Citadel has dozens of C-Sec officers who can take my place, but Omega doesn't have anybody."
"So you're going to be a vigilante?" She asked, shaking her head. "I hear vigilantes have a shit salary, and their life insurance policy is even worse. I just hope you're as good as you think you are."
"Oh, I'm good," he retorted quickly. Instinctively. Half of the time with her, he didn't even have to think about what he was going to say – it just slipped out. He hadn't had that sort of rapport with someone since Shepard. The coincidence was not lost on him. "I'm one of the best."
"You may believe that, but I haven't seen any proof of that," she shrugged and he grinned.
"Is that a challenge, Jane?" he asked. Her nose wrinkled up at the name.
"It just may be, Vakarian," she retorted. "Do you have to call me that?"
"It's your name," he responded, deliberately avoiding the true purpose of the question. If she noticed, she didn't say anything.
"It's the name I put down on my papers when I became a person," she explained. "Shepard is what I know, it's what I've been called for as long as I can remember. My name is all I have. I'd rather you call me Shepard, or nothing at all."
He wondered how much of it was true. A part of him – the larger part of him – thought that this was her own strange idea of helping him. He was upset and even thinking the Commanders name was difficult, and here Jane was shoving it in his face. Demanding he recognize it.
Well, Garrus Vakarian was many things, but one thing he was not was a coward. He never backed down from a challenge.
"Alright then, Shepard," he agreed, swallowing down the pain that slipped through his subvocals. "Then you have to call me Garrus. Vakarian is my father."
"But Vakarian just rolls off the tongue!" She protested with a playful grin. "Vakarian. It just kind of drips off your tongue, like honey."
Garrus was fairly certain the words weren't meant to be in any way provocative, but there was something about the way she said his name that sent a shiver down his spine. It was the first thing that actively made him realize that he was attracted to a human. Honestly, physically attracted to her. Spirits, his father would faint if he could see him now. Garrus didn't like humans, he didn't understand the appeal of the fleshy mounds on their chests and the strange colour of their fringes and the fullness of their hips, but Jane – Shepard – had something about her that drew him in like a moth to flame.
Spirits, he was a xenophile.
He had to change the subject, had to get it onto something that wouldn't drag his mind into the spaces that were so inviting and so terrifying all at the same time. Jumping feet first into those thoughts was a one-way street and he didn't like the idea of being cornered. "So, what's the fair trade?"
"I'm sorry?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.
"You said why you boarded this ship wasn't a fair trade," he reminded her. "What is?"
She was silent for a long moment, watching him. Even though her eyes were focused on him, he could tell that her mind was somewhere else – somewhere far away. He wondered if she would back away from his question – he would have let her. Screw fair and unfair, it was her life they were talking about, she didn't have to share anything she didn't want to. He opened his mouth to say as much – to give her the out she wanted – but she began speaking before he could get the first syllable out.
"I joined the Alliance when I was 15," she said. "I lied about my age – and it isn't like there were any papers on me. I told them I was 18, and they had to believe me. Who else could they ask – the mother I didn't know? They let me join, and a week later I was in basic training."
She ran her fingers through her hair, distracting him for a moment as he watched the strange strands part and ripple over her hand. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
"I flew through the ranks, faster than they expected. Before I knew it I was asked to join the N training program. I wasn't even 20. Of course I joined, I mean, who would turn down an invitation like that?" She shook her head. "I made it all the way to N6 by the time I was 24. I worked my ass off, over and over again."
She got silent suddenly, staring out into space as if whatever she was thinking about – whatever she was about to say – was happening right before her eyes. As if she could see it. It made his throat clench in concern, tempted him to reach out and ground her back in reality. He refrained. Better to let her find her own words before imposing his presence on her.
"It was supposed to be a simple mission," she finally said, her voice softer than he had heard it. "A human colony, fresh off the ships, went dark. My marine unit was sent in to investigate, figure out what happened. Everything was perfect, not a building out of place, but there were no civilians to be seen. It was empty. So, we set up camp, decided to investigate the next day when we could maybe find some clues."
She shook her head, pressed her face into her hand as if she could force the images from her mind. "I woke up to the ground shaking, screams everywhere. There were at least five thresher maws, just ravaging everything. By the end of the week my entire squad was dead, and I was the last one left standing. I don't really remember much past that. I just – I woke up in a med bay. They sent me through therapist after therapist, trying to determine if I was stable, and even though they all said I was fine I didn't feel fine. I didn't feel like I was alright."
Shepard laughed, bitter and full of resentment. "You know what the Alliance did? After compensating me for the loss, they offered me a position in N7 training. They gave me a promotion! I watched my team die, burned to the bone by acid, and because I survived they decided I was a great candidate for N7 training. Their deaths landed me a promotion, and the thought of it…" She shook her head. "It makes me sick even now."
"So you left." He stated when it became clear she had nothing else to add.
She nodded. "Yeah. Resigned. The Alliance still owes me a vacation for the years I put in, but I've never cashed in. Doesn't seem right. So I spent five years topside, trying to live a normal life. Didn't work out like I planned." She laughed dryly, "Nothing ever does."
"If things worked out like we planned, I don't think we'd have ever met," Garrus offered, staring out into the dark as he had so many times this trip. Shepard smiled slightly, crooked grin reflecting in the glass and sliding warm fingers around his heart.
"I don't know," she said, leaning back and resting her head against his shoulder. "Fate can be funny like that."
He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah," he said softly. "I guess it is."
...
A/N: Hey, so, my posts are still going to be sparse. Last semester in college means all my creative juices are going into passing my classes. I'll try to keep this going relatively quickly, but I make no promises. Again, thanks for everyone for waiting so patiently. I appreciate all of you 3
B.E. Nomads