AN: I apologize for the 6th month delay for this chapter. Life got in the way. I hope it was worth the wait and I promise that the next chapter will be up faster.
Shepard reached up to a hand to rub her aching temples. The noise of the shooting range was not only defining but setting every fiber of her being on edge. More than on edge. It had three days since her discussion with Chakwas and her stress levels were through the roof. The amount of anxiety was comparable to how she felt before a battle but with none of the satisfying and entertaining rewards that a battle contained. Both Liara and the doctor insisted that recovery was worth it in the end but Shepard her doubts. She had successfully completed Chakwas's first task for her; taking her daily medication. It was hard getting used to swallowing the pills, even with water she could feel them catch in the back of her throat before slithering down. And the side effects still continued, of course. Shepard's short term memory was shot, though she was starting to suspect that it was the result of one of her multitude of injuries rather than being from the medication.
But now she had to tackle the next challenge. She had called Garrus that morning to meet her at the SPECTRE shooting range, newly relocated to Illium, on her guest pass. However, she had neglected to inform him that this was part of her recovery. In fact she hadn't told any of her friends of her recovery plan. They all knew of her condition now. She had given Liara permission to tell them. This was the part she wanted to do with minimal assistance. Make it seem like a fun get together between best friends. As well as a chance to apologize for her behavior at the hotel. Shepard was not a fan of anyone seeing her at her worst but apparently that bridge had been crossed.
Now she was standing in the lobby of one of the many massive buildings that dotted the landscape of Illium. It was a large expanse of a room and in typical Illium style, had an incredibly clean and sleek design. Luckily it was still early enough in the morning, 10 o'clock galactic standard time, that there were few people around. Good. The last thing Shepard needed was any onlookers when her inevitable breakdown occurred.
Stop.
She shook her head to rid that thought from her brain. Nothing was going to happen. She was going to go in, pick up the Predator, and shoot. Piece of cake. The only problem was waiting for Garrus, who was usually so punctual. With a flick of her wrist Shepard opened her Omni-tool. She still wasn't used to the civilian interface but was making due. "You think he would have sent me something, being late like this," she muttered to herself under her breath.
Her attention was caught by a movement out by the automatic doors at the entrance sliding open on their automated track. "Now that's what I call an entrance," the Turian called, his mandibles twitching into a grin.
"Nah, that's what we call a belated entrance, Vakarian," Shepard replied as she deactivated her Omni-tool.
Garrus grimaced and gave a shake of his head as he came to stand in front of the Commander. "I think you lost some of your wit, Shepard. Truly disappointing."
"Disappointing? That's a word I'd save for describing your performance after I kick your ass today."
"Well Shepard, this disappointing performance is going to add me a new favorite place to my list." Garrus gloated.
"We'll see about that," she shot back playfully. "Come on, let's get our guns." The two walked to the left side of the lobby where a group of elevators were waiting for them. Shepard pushed the button. The door to the middle elevator slid open
"Been a long time since we took one of these," Garrus observed as they entered the elevator.
"I'm feeling the pressure to start making small talk about the history of our species. You getting that?" Shepard asked as she consulted the floor guide next to the buttons. Floor 52. She punched in the number and immediately the elevator began shooting up.
The Turian laughed. "Yeah I'm getting that. So what kind of gun are you planning on using? SMG? Shotgun? Or we could go head to head with sniper rifles?" His excitement was palpable as he listed the final item and Shepard almost hesitated to dismiss him.
"No. I was thinking of using the old Predator. What do you think?"
"Oh come on," he chided. "That's boring. What is your obsession with that old thing?"
"I'm not about to start debating gun specs with you Garrus. It's a reliable weapon."
"But we're just shooting targets. You don't need reliability. I'm going to grab a Widow. You want one?"
What was she supposed to say? 'No I need my pistol because I need to relive one of the most traumatic things that has ever happened to me?' It sounded stupid. This whole recovery plan sounded stupid. But Shepard knew that if she didn't go through with this, someone would chew her out. And there were few things that she hated more than getting yelled at.
She breathed in to calm herself and exhaled. "I'm going with the pistol. Just drop it, okay?"
Garrus momentarily furrowed his brow in confusion but quickly moved on. "Alright. I think I'll take one too. Wouldn't want you out there all alone." His gaze dropped to Shepard's right hand. "Are you going to be able to hold it though? How's your hand?"
Her hand. She had almost forgotten about her hand wound from where the pistol had fused to her palm. The pain had subsided to a dull ache and was easy enough to forget about. "It will be fine. The scar tissue makes it a little difficult to bend but the more I work it the more flexible it will get."
The Turian looked relieved. "Good. And you know what they say. Girls love scars." The comment served to instantly relieve any of the remaining tension in the air.
"Well you would know about that, wouldn't you Garrus?" Shepard retorted as the elevator doors slid open, revealing the crisp, monochromatic layout of the front of the range. Its appearance offered a stark contrast to the noise of the gunshots, which had changed from the dull headache causing noises that she had heard below. Now the sounds were clear and distinct. The noise of the rapidly firing weapons was disconcerting to say the least. She could feel something on the edge of her countiousness triggered by the noise. A memory? Not now, Shepard thought as she gritted her teeth in frustration, doing her best to block out any unwanted thoughts. Think about what you have to do. Think about going in and firing that gun. Not at people or Collectors or Reapers. Just targets.
The Commander was jolted out of her thoughts by a sudden touch on her shoulder. Instinctively, Shepard jumped. "Sorry," Garrus muttered, pulling his hand back slightly. "I asked if you wanted to head up to the counter."
Shepard nodded. "Yeah, of course. Sorry, zoned out there a little."
The Turian looked at her questioningly for a moment, inflaming all of her fears that he had seen through her pathetic excuses. But he said nothing of the sort and quickly dropped his expression of confusion. "Nah, it's okay. Come on."
As they approached the counter, Shepard saw a glimmer of recognition in the clerk's eyes that quickly gave way to staunch professionalism. "What can I get for you two?"
Shepard reached into the pocket of her jacket and produced a guest pass and her identification. "I'll take an M-3 Predator and my friend here will take an M-98 Widow."
"Sounds good," the clerk replied as she scanned the identification cards before punching in some numbers on the keypad connected to her computer screen. "Alright, your weapons will be available in the range in a few moments.
"Actually, uh, sorry to do this," Garrus interjected. "But could I get a Predator as well?"
"Sure." The clerk typed in an additional set of numbers. "Fixed it. Have a good day and let me know if either of you need anything." She slipped the cards back across the counter then hit one more button and the door next to the counter slid open.
"Wow," Shepard commented as they passed through the doorway and entered into the range. "Didn't think you'd be willing to give up your widow that easily. And a pistol? I never thought I'd see the day."
"Well, I can't properly kick your ass if I'm using another type of gun, now can I? Besides, that would give me an advantage."
Shepard smiled. It was a nice touch that mattered to her more than Garrus would ever know.
"What are you smiling about?" Garrus asked, as he took their identical pistols out of the dispenser unit. He pulled the magazine out of the grip to check it before sliding it back to clear the chamber. Upon completion of his routine, he handed the pistol to Shepard and started on his own Predator.
"Nothing. I'm just happy," She muttered as she pressed a button next the dispenser unit. A pistol heat sink dropped down with a harsh clanging sound the reinstated throughout the hall. She hit it again and a second popped out. In one fluid motion she switched the Predator from her left to her right hand and swapped out the empty magazine for the full one.
The second Shepard felt the pressure of the gun in her right palm, the panic in the pit of her stomach began to rise. The pistol fell to the floor as she bent at the waist, hands on her knees, desperately fighting off the anxiety, as well as the wave of additional nausea.
Garrus had wandered ahead of her after taking and loading his heat sink. He had expected Shepard to be right behind him. Until he heard the clattering noise behind him, much louder that the noise the ammo dispensary made. The Turian spun around, resisting his instinct to ready his weapon in preparation for combat. Instead of a foe, he saw his Commander and best friend in a vulnerable position that resembled that of an exhausted runner. Something about the way she was standing was completely wrong though. That suspicion was confirmed when he spotted her knees starting to give way. He dropped his gun and ran to catch her before she hit the ground. His strides were long and he was able to reach and grab her right before her body made contact with the shiny metal floor. Garrus lowered himself into a crouching position with his hands on her shoulders and Shepard followed suit. "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to calm the worry in his voice. "Are you sick?"
She muttered something under her breath. "Shepard, I can't hear you."
Another murmur. "Please. You've got to speak up."
Shepard was silent for a moment before she shot up to standing position, breaking free of his grasp. "I said I can't fucking do this!" The words began as a whisper but by the end of the sentence were shouted, almost screamed. A slight eco sounded throughout the shooting range. There was a brief moment of silence as the other shooters paused to question the noise but the cacophony of sounds soon began again. "I can't hold that gun in my hand and shoot. I can't do it."
"Why can't-"Garrus started before the memories flooded back into his brain. Earth. Shepard going toward the beam up to the Citadel, shaky from the hours of uninterrupted gunfight. Him in the back of the cargo ship, holding a sobbing Liara back as he contained his own tears, both of them trying to make peace with the fact that there was a significant chance they would ever see Shepard again. And the whole time, the Commander steadily firing her trusty Predator despite her injury induced limp, the light of the gun fire reflecting off the metal as if to serve as a beacon. As she stepped into the light of the Citadel's beam, Garrus could have sworn he saw her look back, then clutch on tight onto her Predator one last time. Then she was gone.