Of course they couldn't board the station for more than ten minutes before thirty different people needed sixty different things. After a much needed drink, Wrex graciously buying after losing a bet that Garrus would never speak of again, the crew took the elevator from C-SEC down to the docking bay. It was then that Shepard's comm crackled, stating that a situation arose outside the Normandy that needed her attention. Here we go again.
They got off the elevator to find two Normandy officers keeping distance from a set of crates off the far end of the dock. Before she even had to ask for the situation, the officer with the visor briefed her.
It was a girl from her colony, Mindoir. She escaped the slavers and was here, terrified. A stone gaze took over Shepard then, as she obliged to help get close enough to the girl to sedate her.
"GET BACK! What-what are you?" the girl stammers as she draws a pistol, one she wrestled off one of the officers in the struggle to get her to calm down.
"My name is Shepard. I am with the Alliance. Can you tell me your name?" try as she might to distance herself from the girl in front of her, the look in her eyes was familiar to Shepard, hardening her chest.
"Animals don't get names. The masters put their symbols on her. Hot metal all over her back. She screams when they do it," the pain in front of her is almost too much to bear.
"You're not an animal," Shepard replies indignantly, "Think back. Your parents. What did they call you? Do you remember them?"
"She remembers a lot of things…" the girl went into vivid snippets of horror, each new one allowing Shepard to take a step closer and finally put the girl, Talitha, into a sleep that she knew would be the first troubled steps of healing.
The officers ran up as soon as Talitha hit the ground, suggesting they get her to immediate care.
"Take her to Anaris station, but do not alert the Alliance that you are coming. I want you both to see to her personally, do not let her out of your sights. Stay with her as long as she needs you,"
"But Commander!-"
"I gave an order!" She reeled on the officer before she turned and trudged into the airlock, the turian and krogan following behind.
He knew she would be there, even if it was 0300, there wasn't a chance she would be sleeping after what he saw on the docking bay. Coming prepared, Garrus brought the "hard stuff" as Alenko called it, and quietly sat across the dark faced commander. Wordlessly, he poured her a glass and slid it in front of her.
"If I didn't know better, Vakarian, I'd say you were trying to liquor me up," Shepard held the glass up in front of her, a cheers, before taking an impressively large swig.
"Only to get you laid, I assure you," he raised his glass, imitating her strange human custom, and took a drink of his own dextro "hard stuff". "Someone had to do it, ugly as you are," a shit eating grin couldn't hide behind his glass as she feigned hurt and gave him a wink.
"Squishy as I may be, space lobster, I am a goddess among human standards. Redheads are so rare, we are practically unicorns!"
"I won't even try to pretend to know what a 'unicorn' is," he took another swig from his glass, his attention now brought to the brilliant red in front of him, "I still don't see the fascination you humans have with the different shades of your fringes. They all look like...string or something," his words were harder to come by, so he drank more slowly.
"You know you want to touch it," she baited, but he didn't budge. She batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, making her look so ridiculous he obliged if only to make her stop.
His brow plates rose, eyes wide.
"Soft, right?"
"It's…" he left his talons in her hair, caressing through it mindlessly dazed by this new substance. The new motion of it released a scent of mint into the air, intoxicating. He abruptly removed his hand before he got lost in this new sensation. What the hell, Vakarian?
"It wasn't always long enough to touch you know," an indifferent glaze replaced her usual smile, darkening her eyes.
"Rebellious youth? Why Shepard, I didn't know you had it in you," Garrus teased her trying to bring back that smile, faintly succeeding.
"It wasn't exactly by choice," Shepard giggled through her words, "Slavers typically don't like slaves to have hair, it spreads lice. But mine was red, it made me stand out. They let me keep it short," she didn't bat an eye as she said this, leaving him astonished at her strength but ashamed for bringing it up.
"Ah..I uh, heard, but I didn't know if it was true or.." he met her gaze, clumsily.
"What, that I was a slave? Well try as the Alliance might to say otherwise, it's true. For a year of my life that's all I knew, that's all I was," she replied lightly, emotionless, taking drinks from her glass.
"Wait a year? But the report said-"
"That the Alliance got there just in time? That miraculously they were able to save a single person, while the rest of the colony disappeared into Batarian space? That's only partially true. Before today, I thought I was the only survivor of the Batarians, as they successfully killed as many slaves as possible to make a faster escape. But the reports make it sound like as soon as the Batarians landed on Mindoir, the Alliance pounced and saved us all. The truth is, we were such a small colony that no one even noticed we were missing. The only reason that the Alliance stumbled there at all is because they were somehow in the area. I wasn't exactly in a position to question my rescuers, however," she giggled into her glass, pouring another.
A year as a slave. He couldn't imagine a single day in the conditions he had heard too much about from the more gruesome Extranet vids. But a year. And she could only have been a child, seeing this as what the world was. A sour taste filled his mouth, and not from the liquor. If he didn't loathe batarians before, he certainly did now.
"If you want to talk about it Shepard..." Garrus reached a hand over to Shepard's, leaving it there as she began to speak.
"I never..I try not to go back there, you know? The only people who knew this about me usually were too embarrassed to talk about it, so I just, I don't know. Moved on I guess," her hand didn't flinch under his, rather she put her other on top of his, a sign of companionship.
"Or too concerned getting in your pants to risk your wrath?" his remark about Alenko made them both laugh louder than they should have at those wee hours of the morning. That was the the first of many late night debriefs in the mess hall.
Since that night, a respect for his commander welled inside of Garrus with a fierceness he couldn't explain. He came to realize that she truly was the very best humanity had to offer, fully living up to her potential as a Spectre.
It wasn't until his own Spectre training that he realized how much deeper his respect ran for her. The Normandy crew had mostly parted ways, himself included, as he went back to the Citadel, inspired to fulfill his dream at last. It was Shepard that convinced him that he should train, her words that echoed in his ear after she talked him into sparing Dr. Saleon on his ship filled with sick experiments. He didn't expect that from her, given her past, that she would show mercy. But this human was always full of surprises as she said astutely "Just because you have the power to end things quickly and cleanly, doesn't mean that's the right call. Hell, at least this way we got a moving target to keep you on your toes!" she was referring to the fact that after they decided to take him in rather than kill him, he pulled a gun to escape, resulting in his demise. It was that night after sparring out some residual stress when she told him to go back to training and become a Spectre.
A call rang in as he prepared for his morning routine, but he didn't get a chance to even think about opening it before a voice came from the other room of his apartment.
"Don't open that, princess," it was Wrex, holding what appeared to be rincol.
"Wrex wha-"
"You're going to want to sit down," Wrex's usually neutral expression was cold, and was harder to read than usual. Could a krogan face even be read? Garrus eyed the empty glasses as Wrex slid them across the table in front of him, motioning the turian to have a seat. The drinks were poured and Wrex already had his first shot before he spoke again. "That message you just got is from Anderson. You're not going to want to hear this from him," this made Garrus even more wary, still sitting without moving.
"The Normandy was shot down by an unknown enemy. It crash landed on some shit stain planet," Wrex took another shot of his drink, shaking his head as his throat felt the burning liquid slide down. An unspoken question lingered in the air between them, turning the silence heavy.
"She didn't make it, Garrus,"
Everything stood still.
He took off his visor for the first time in years. In that moment, he didn't want to be a Spectre, he didn't want to be a C-Sec agent, hell he didn't even want to be a turian. He just wanted to grieve for his friend- the person he respected above all others.
He reached across the table for his glass.