Great Gig in the Sky - Pink Floyd
Guilt was consuming her.
Why did the galaxy determine that she would defy nature, that she would be unable to die while so many were unable to live? That while the galaxy was wrought with disease and murder, she was to sit above it? She felt an unbidden sense of foreboding.
She appreciated what the Illusive Man was trying to do. Truly, she did. If he believed that she was what was needed to stop the Reaper invasion, she agreed with his decision. She should be absolutely ecstatic after all; she no longer had to fear life's greatest unknown, death. But she could not comprehend why she had to be the one who no longer feared it, while the entirety of the galaxy still did.
What would happen to her now? Would she live forever, watching all those that she loved died? Would guilt force her to serve humanity for the rest of her days? If she married, she'd watch her husband die. If she had children, she'd watch them die.
It felt wrong. The desire for normalcy consumed her. The desire to take down the Reapers, quit her life as a soldier, meet the man of her dreams, marry him, bear his children, and grow old together. She was being denied any chance for that.
Life never works in the order that we plan it. Perhaps, she thought to herself, she could have the implants removed when she was ready. It wasn't the most dignified way to go, but it was an option.
What she suddenly couldn't comprehend was why her thoughts were resting on life after the military. Her life until now had been entirely career focused, why was she suddenly thinking of family? This... this 'Pluvia', as the Illusive Man had called it, was an ideal career move. But she was suddenly so hung up on the idea of a family - the idea of a husband.
Why?
She rubbed her eyes hard in frustration. Clearly, the lack of sleep and the burden of the news was affecting her.
Or was someone affecting her?
Shepard was exhausted from her long day but sleep was still eluding her. Her mind would not rest, spinning in constant circles with no release. When she realized that it had been several hours since she had first laid in bed, she gave up on sleep and decided to have something to eat.
The fridge was barren when she reached the mess; Grunt must have discovered it. She pushed aside an undesirable-looking plate of noodles to find a paper bag filled with cha siu bau, causing her mouth to water in excitement. Although she was sure something so delicious had to belong to another crew member... She was the Commander, dammit! She deserved a good meal on occasion.
Her appetite was through the roof since she had been revived. In the beginning, she assumed it was from the implants, but now she was beginning to wonder if Pluvia played a factor.
Once again, when she closed the fridge a narrow beam of light fell on the main battery. Her steps quiet, she approached the door, feeling relieved when she heard consistent gentle clicking indicating that Garrus was awake and working at his console.
She took in a deep breath before knocking on the door of the main battery. Garrus opened it for her right away, dressed in his civvies with his visor on. She swore that he slept in that damn thing.
"Good evening, Commander." Was it possible that he was even more suave when he was tired? "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit in the small hours of the night?" He flashed a groggy, sideways smile at her that sent her heart fluttering in ways she hadn't expected.
"Garrus, I'm sorry for bothering you at such an unusual hour, but I wouldn't do it if it wasn't something important."
"You're welcome at any time, Commander," he said, gesturing her inside. "Just expect me in my civvies if it's between 2300 and 0500 hours."
"I like you in your civvies," she said, leaning against the railing beside his console. "Reminds me that you're more than a hardened soldier."
"Technically, I'm not a soldier since I'm not enlisted. I'm more of a hardened vigilante."
"You're part of my army against the Collectors."
"Someone's modest, having a personal army." He pointed to the food in her hand that she was about to take a bite out of. "What do you have there?"
"Cha siu bau."
He tapped his ear. "Sorry, translator must have glitched. What was that?"
"No glitch, my Cantonese is just so terrible it's indistinguishable. It's barbeque pork in a sweet bun."
"Sounds... interesting." He took a seat on his small cot, leaning against the wall. "But I'm going to go ahead and assume you didn't come to visit me at 0030 hours to discuss food and clothes."
She looked down at her food, her expression morose. "No, I didn't. I have something I've been hoping to discuss with you, actually. Mordin ran some tests."
"How bad is it?" Garrus asked gently. He patted the cot next to him, and she gratefully accepted his invitation to sit next to him. "Did they detect traces of turian DNA? Are you actually a VI with a bomb inside of you sent to destroy us all?"
She laughed harshly. "It's not bad, per se. It's just a lot to take in, and I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it." She took another bite of her cha siu bau, chewing slowly.
"Well you're doing a great job with the cliffhangers."
"I'm still coming to terms with everything so be patient." She explained Mordin's testing process to Garrus, laughter spurting from him at her description of the salarian shooting her. "EDI woke me at 0300 in the morning, saying that Mordin needed to urgently see me. So in his lab he brought me to his microscope, showing me a random sample of my cells. He damaged a few of the cells, and what he's classified as a new type of cell appeared and repaired the damaged cells.
"He further explained to me that this new type of cell will repair any other cell which is damaged, infected, or aging, regardless of the extent of the damage. In other words, I can't die."
The two sat in silence, both contemplating what she had said. After several minutes, Garrus broke the silence. "That's a doozy."
"You're telling me." She began to play with a loose thread on his thin bed sheets. "It gets more interesting. I spoke to The Illusive Man, and in short, he told me that the technology is part of the implants Cerberus put in me to bring me back. Which means that it can't be duplicated."
"But that could have stopped the Collectors, and the Reapers!"
"It could have been the end of disease, of suffering, of death! But now that I know it's limited to me, I feel nothing but guilt."
"Shepard, you can't feel guilty for something that's out of your control. Besides, think of how this would have upset the natural balance of the galaxy. We would become ludicrously overpopulated; our criminal justice system would be overthrown..." He trailed off, but she could hear the longing in his subvocals. His thoughts were of his mother: what he would give for a cure for her incurable condition.
They lapsed into silence, lost in their individual thoughts. Desperate to take her mind off of Pluvia, Shepard changed the subject. "Do you remember that brother I told you about a long time ago?"
Garrus shook his head briefly to regain composure. "Malcolm, right?"
"Did I tell you much about him?"
"Not really, no."
She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. "Well, do you have any siblings?"
"Yes, a younger sister."
"And did she ever cause trouble?"
Inwardly grateful of the change in subject, he emitted a mock exasperated sigh. "No, she was a saint. She made me look bad, most of the time."
She chuckled. "You were a trouble child?"
"At times. Weren't we all? But, back to your brother."
"Yes, my brother. My brother and I, we were the opposite of your sister and you. I was always the 'golden child'. I did extraordinarily well in my lessons, I showed a lot of promise in my shooting and biotics early in life, and most importantly, I followed the rules.
"For reasons I'm unsure of, potentially jealousy due to a lack of attention from my parents, my brother rebelled. It started with small things - hiding in the vents to avoid lessons, running away when we went on planet, stealing food to sneak it onto the ship - harmless things. But as he grew older, and as I left to go to basic, things worsened. He started smuggling illegal materials on and off ships. When he was sixteen, he was caught with red sand. And not by my parents, but by the authorities.
"My parents were devastated, of course. I was in the middle of my N6 training, but I took leave to be there for his trial. He was very lucky that my father had such influential tendencies, since he ended up with only a fine and a slap on the wrist. My parents kept him under a strict watch after that, and when he was eighteen, they sent him to boot camp. I haven't seen him since, since I started chasing Saren shortly afterwards.
"Well, last night he sent me a comm wave. He's joined the Alliance, and has been promoted to Officer. He said..." Her eyes, lit up with pride, met Garrus's. "He said I inspired him. Watching him take a downward spiral and then come to this point... I can't even describe how good that feels."
"I can understand. My sister was promoted through her ranks so quickly; I went to every one of her ceremonies. Each time, my parents looked happier and happier."
"Look at us, proud older siblings," she muttered. Another thing to add to her list of what Garrus and she had in common.
Once again they lapsed into comfortable silence, and Garrus yawned faintly. "Thank you, Garrus, I feel better now. I'll let you get your rest."
"Hey, I'm just glad you want me here for my mind and not just my body."
She punched his arm gently, a scowl on her face. "You know you're much more than any old soldier to me!"
His mandibles fluttered into a smile and he leaned closer to her, his subharmonics purring. "What am I to you, then?"
Shepard leaned back, her eyes wide from being caught off guard. He laughed at her response, and a wide smile broke out on her face. "You're my best soldier, and my best friend."
He smiled back. "I'll accept that." He stood up and opened the door for her in a gentlemanly gesture.
"Sleep well, Garrus." She pulled him in for a quick hug before leaving.
As the door closed behind her, Garrus flopped onto the bed, covering his face with his hands.
That night, he was the one who was unable to sleep.