"What was she like?" Emma asked from where she sat on the couch in front of the large window, each pane of glass opened as far as allowed to let in the night's summer breeze. Her legs were up across the rest of the couch, and seated on her lap was the littlest member of the household, pushing into his fourth month.
"Shorter than me," Shepard said, stretching out a little further into the partially reclined armchair, watching her son and the woman who had become something of her own surrogate mother. "Same hair, though. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I see her and it's just startling until I catch my breath. She was nice, but quiet, except when she was around my dad."
Nate was a wriggling, uncontained little thing where he was, one of Emma's hands at his back and the other at his stomach to support him sitting up. His feet kicked, his hands moved without grace or control, and every so often he looked up towards Emma, lips half contorting into his own version of a smile. Emma smiled right on back and offered him one of his small, brightly colored stuffed toys, never missing a beat in the conversation. "Sounds a lot like you too, doesn't it?"
Her cheeks warmed at the implications the older woman made. Perhaps she didn't want to admit it, but she knew Emma was right just the same. Since Garrus had made their home his own quasi-permanent base of operations, she'd pulled out of her figurative shell. Maybe, though, that had a lot to do with her newfound motherhood as well. It was rare that she went a day without her cheeks hurting from that smile she wore on a near constant basis, and both Nathan and Garrus were to blame for it.
"Yeah, I guess so," she agreed. "She was very serious when it came to work that had to get done. Work before play, always. And on a farm, that usually didn't leave much time for anything else because you could always find something else to do. I used to just want her to play with me, to lay down and read a book with me at the end of the night."
"It's hard… being a mother. She probably thought she was doing right by you—but it's hard to find the right balance."
Shepard's eyes were trained on her own son, and though her arms were empty at the moment, she could still feel the solid weight of him in her hold as though he were there within them right now. It was different from the heavy, unbalanced weight of a large gun, and she was thankful that muscle memory was being replaced with the new one. The toy rolled from Nate's lap to the floor, his eyes following it as it came to stop a few feet away before looking up in his mother's direction with much expectation. Noisily, he cooed at her, grunting and babbling as though he actually possessed language. Shepard smiled.
"What'd you do? You just love to see me work, don't you?" Her words were out and already her bare feet were on the floor, bringing her towards the object her son yearned for. Shepard kneeled beside the couch and gave it to him, earning her a gummed squeal of happiness as he got it back within his untrained grasp. She ran a hand over and through the dark hair atop his head, and thoughtfully sighed. "I hope I get it right."
"I heard someone say a long time ago that you aren't raising your kids, you're raising your grandkids," Emma said. "I didn't realize how true that was until I had my daughters. The only person that's ever going to be able to decide if you did it right is your son when he's a father himself, but for what it's worth, I think you're doing a fine job."
She'd never ask for that kind of affirmation or reassurance, not even from Garrus, but it was good to hear it, she had to admit. A temporary weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, and with it came a renewed sense of energy. Nathan impatiently whined where he sat, reaching towards his mother, all other distractions be damned, and in an instant Shepard had him in her arms, drawing him close to her chest where his tiny fingers dug into her clothing and skin, mouth leaving a wet patch of saliva across the neck of her shirt.
"I asked Garrus to find Kaidan for me," she said suddenly, nuzzling the top of her son's head. "I think it's time."
"You know my opinion, I've thought it's been time since the day you told me Nate's father was still alive—" Emma raised her hands in a sign of surrender, a white flag. "I know there are things I don't understand, but I think it's been eating at you. At first I thought it was that you knew he was dead, but now I know it was just the opposite. Even if it doesn't work out—at least you'll know, right? You'll know you did everything for Nathan, won't have to live with the 'what if.' And if it does work… well, your lives will be all the better for it."
It wasn't that she'd started to live life openly as the former Commander. No, it was quite the opposite. She was Kate, would always be Kate, especially to those she had met and grown to know since she'd found home here. But since that night when Emma had asked her that simple question—Are you Commander Shepard?—there'd been something of an unspoken understanding between the two of them. No, Shepard had said, but they'd both known the answer had been a resounding and obvious yes, and sometime in the first few weeks after the baby's birth, Shepard had confided in her friend and mother figure the truth of her son's parentage. Kaidan, the boy's father, was still alive out there. Alive and none the wiser. Now, the truth was something they didn't outwardly acknowledge, but came to talk of nonetheless.
Shepard extended her legs out across the floor, laying Nathan down along her thighs as she leaned closer and over him, bringing herself into his view. He pulled his feet up, even swiped a hand down in their general direction to grab at them, but missed. Shepard, however, didn't, catching his ankles within her hands and getting just close enough to kiss the tiny soles of his feet. Nathan gave his own cooed nonsense in response.
Emma brushed her hand over Shepard's shoulder as she stood to leave, giving Shepard the privacy with her son that was rarely found. "I want you to know there's always a place here for you, no matter what, so don't worry about that. But if you find a place for yourself somewhere else… don't hold back on my account."
"I know," she said, and because she couldn't manage the words, she gave a nod of thanks to Emma as she exited the room.
"Past your bed time," Shepard playfully chastised her son, a smile on her face all the while. "But you don't even know what that is, do you? No, of course not." She ran her hands from his hips on down his increasingly chubby thighs and legs, straightening them out for him before he pulled them back up, bent and close to his body. "Bet you feel much better right now that we've got some cool air coming in. For someone that found my stomach awfully comfy for nine months, you're one cranky kid when you get a little sweaty."
He gurgled, began sucking on the side of his fist, wide eyes never leaving her face. That look of adoration he wore for her, she would never tire of it. Though he tolerated strangers and even showed interest and affection for those he knew especially well, when it came to Mom, there was one and only. Shepard hadn't been prepared for that amount of selfless worship, and in so many ways, she was thankful for the surprise of it. Shepard lifted him, cradling him in her arm despite how much he'd grown since she'd first held him in that position.
"My beautiful," she whispered, kissing between his faint, barely there, eyebrows, "beautiful, beautiful boy." It was moments like these where she felt most comfortable to behave and say as she pleased with her son. Alone, away from the prying eyes and constantly listening ears, she was at peace and ease with herself while her child rested in her arms, returning the feeling just as equally.
The months had passed in the near blink of an eye, even if every day she'd told herself to slow down and appreciate what she had, to remember every detail for when he was older and could no longer fit in the circle of her arms any longer. Still, though, he'd grown large and healthy on his mother's milk, a fact she was proud of, but also signified the growing distance between she and her son. One day, she both feared and knew, he would no longer need her, and by then, Shepard could only hope she would have taught him enough to be a good man.
"Do you want to meet him?" She said to Nathan with an exasperated exhale. "Is that what you want? Do you want to see your dad?" Already, there'd been many sleepless nights about her son at an older age, betrayed and demanding details of the other person who brought him into being. Those nights only paled in comparison to the dreams in which Kaidan vehemently denied his child, his actions and words loud and brash and angry.
Shepard took one of her son's hands between her thumb and forefinger, smoothing out over each digit, counting and recounting, marveling in the perfection of every line and dimple just as she'd done everyday since his birth. Perfect. That's what he was, even if she'd feared that he wouldn't be. Just like any other child born to any other mother, he was perfect, thriving, growing. And for that mercy, she was relieved.
Lights flickered through the front window of the room, the gentle thrum of a car engine. Shepard looked up and then back down to her boy, pushing herself up to standing.
"Do you know what that is?" Shepard cooed to Nathan, and followed Emma's earlier steps on out into the main hall and then to the front door. It was dark, but beyond the line of trees in the distance, the sky was still a light, though darkening, blue as the sun hid itself away for the night. Shepard lingered in the doorway, and from the sky car, she watched Garrus reveal himself from the open door. She extended an arm in his direction, pointing, and Nathan followed the line of sight from where he was held to her hip, marveling at the new distraction. "Papa's home."
"We missed you," Shepard said over the sound of her son's incessant babbling.
Garrus grabbed his bag from the car and made his way over, depositing his luggage just barely inside the home, but tarried where she stood. "Mm, I can hear it," he replied, ducking down to offer his hello to Nathan, a brush of his own forehead to the boy's while Nathan reveled in the attention. Shepard, however, was his final destination, and as always she was waiting for him when their mouths met together. Garrus cupped her cheek, held them both steadfast so they felt more like one rather than two. "I missed you."
Ah, yes, that was what she'd been missing, she thought while tucking herself under his arm as they stepped back into the house, shutting the night out behind them.
"Palaven treat you alright?"
"Not too many complaints," he answered, leaving his bag behind in the foyer, a note made in his head to fetch it later. Shepard led the way back up the stairs and Garrus dutifully followed along back to the bedroom the three of them shared. It had felt tight that first night beside her, just the two of them, and with a baby added to the mix, it had become tight—to say the very least. But save for the possibility of usurping one of the living quarters down below, there was no more space to be had, the rest of the house's occupants living much the same. Cozy, Shepard always said. Cramped, Garrus usually replied right back.
"I expected him to be asleep this late," he said, easing himself down onto the edge of the bed as Shepard paced the short length of the room, gently rocking the baby into some kind of calm. "But then I remembered who we're dealing with. He never sleeps when we want him to." His mandibles flared, mouth smiling.
Shepard shifted Nathan back up to her shoulder, kissing just above his ear. "Your Papa's talking bad about you again," she said with much amusement. "Don't listen to him. You're just particular and know what you want."
"You look tired," Garrus said as he eyed her, the darkness beneath her eyes. "Sit down, give him here."
"Says the person who just spent the past thirty hours traveling," she countered, but her body behaved contrary to her words, trading Nathan to the turian and coming to sit beside them both. Shepard rested her head against his clothed shoulder, eyes trained on her son.
Nathan settled in with the behavior learned since his birth, fingers gripping at Garrus' cowl much in the same way he did to his mother's shoulder while Garrus curled an arm about him, holding him close. From the back of his throat, Garrus purred, and the calming pulse placated the boy from his earlier, excited fussiness.
"I made the arrangements," Garrus finally said, and it was only then that Shepard's eyes lazily blinked back open.
"Yeah? What'd you tell him?"
"Just said I wanted to catch up," he went on, recalling the exchange of messages he'd had with Kaidan in the days he'd been gone.
Shepard swallowed hard over the hesitation and dryness in her throat and reached a shaky hand out towards her son, palming the back of his skull as her thumb smoothed over the wisps of hair, dark in color just like his father's. Every day she saw a new mannerism in him, a new expression on his face that belonged not to her, but to the man Nathan had never met. Biology was a funny thing. "What's he been doing these days?"
"Liaising, mostly, or so I've heard. The Alliance and Council have been pulling him in all directions, but we both know—"
"—That he's always been more of an Alliance man," she said with a satisfied, if small, smile.
"He offered to meet me closer to Palaven, but I managed to make an excuse, said I'd be coming back to Earth for Victus, and Kaidan said he had some time off coming up to see his family back in Vancouver."
"So," she nodded, sitting up. "Vancouver it is, then."
"I could've—"
"No, I'm glad it's not here. If… it doesn't work out, it'll be good he doesn't know where I've been."
"It's going to be fine," he said with tenacity, leaning into her to kiss and nuzzle the top of her head. "But if you need more time…"
"It's been too long already," she sighed. "I've already waited too long. The only thing that made me really change my mind as of late was because Nathan recognizes people now, you know? He knows me, he knows you, he knows everyone here. And I want him to at least have the chance to get to know Kaidan like the rest of us before he just sees him as a stranger and the first impression of his father is terror."
Garrus shifted Nathan down, cradling him along his forearm as the boy gradually relaxed and went limp and sleep called to him. Even from his slumber he fidgeted, face crinkling as he turned in the direction of the warmth radiating from Garrus' body. He wasn't sure when it had happened, if it had been that first day of Nathan's life or it had been in the weeks that followed, or maybe if he was honest it was when he saw Shepard for that first time months ago, stomach swollen with the child she carried, a sign that not only was she alive but that she was bringing new life with her as well. What didn't matter was when it happened, but that it happened, that somewhere along the way that little boy had become far more than just any other child out there in the universe. He wasn't his, but somewhere deep inside, Garrus knew this would be as close as he would ever get, and for that he was happy. He gave a satisfied sigh while he lovingly swept his forehead across the boy's.
Shepard ran her fingers along his spine as he pulled away to let the boy rest in peace. "Did I ever say thank you for everything you've done?"
"Once or twice."
"I don't just mean…" her voice was frail, quiet. "For being here. I mean for being there for me through everything. Everything with Cerberus, everything after Menae—you've always been there, no matter what. Even when you probably shouldn't have been… there you were."
"Well," he paused, "that's what friends are for."
"And I was an idiot," Shepard cut in, but was careful to keep her voice down. "Couldn't see you, couldn't see us because I was blinded by Kaidan all over again. Turning you down—" her head shook, "—I still regret it."
"I'll agree with the idiot remark," he joked, plates of his face shifting accordingly, "but it happened, it's over."
Nathan breathed out a heavy exhale, shifted again in his sleep, punctuating their words with a reminder of his presence.
"Yeah, and the end now… it isn't so bad."
Garrus had to agree.
"Thank you for this too," she added in, standing beside the bed. He got the hint and rose as well, crossing the short distance to the small cradle where Garrus bent over and laid Nathan inside. Shoulder to shoulder, Shepard stood next to him even as he placed his palm to the boy's stomach and chest, an added comfort until he was resting easy and calm once more.
"You know that whatever happens with Kaidan—it doesn't change who you are to him, right?"
He wore his reluctant uneasiness on his face, not saying a word.
"And what you are to me—the three of us, we're something now. Family or…" her face wrinkled in a nervous distaste for the word, "I don't know what you're comfortable calling it. But we're something together and I'm not ever letting go of that, not so long as you don't want me to, do you understand?"
Garrus let his hand pull away from Nathan, and instead linked his fingers with Shepard's as a show of solidarity.
"It's just one more thing, right?" Through their tied hands she pulled him back towards the bed they shared, stopping when the backs of her knees came into contact with the bed frame. "We've made it through worse."
"Thresher maws, reprogrammed heretic geth, giant reaper-squid at the bottom of the ocean on far away planets—I'm still not forgiving you for that one, by the way."
"You're just trying to get me hot, aren't you?"
"Is it working?"
Shepard smiled, placed a hand to his high ridged cowl. "Yeah. Now come whisper to me about heat sinks and that time you took out a brute from half a mile away."
"Kate," he whispered, his hand already pushing at the hem of her shirt, his face buried into her neck. "You'll never be quiet enough."
"We can always try."
