Garrus had, so far, refused Shepard's disembarkation orders. He blamed it on the fact that he was a very poor turian but a very good friend.
Shepard had explained, in a way that made her seem like a puppet on strings, what happened in the Bahak system. It was lucky that those she explained things to believed her about the Reapers. After that, she'd taken them to Illium, put the remainder of her crew into Liara's care—exempting himself, Tali, Joker, and Dr. Chakwas—then taken Tali to the Flotilla.
She was still sick, but much improved. She hadn't liked leaving but finally gave in to his argument that she couldn't do anything for Shepard and there was no point in staying. She'd argued he was still here, but his counterargument that he wouldn't be when Shepard turned herself in won out.
He knew he wouldn't, but he wouldn't leave willingly. Shepard probably knew that, otherwise she'd have evicted him on Illium with the first wave. Or maybe she just liked the silent company.
Dr. Chakwas worried—Shepard was probably having uncontrolled nightmares.
Joker wanted to help but didn't know how.
Garrus thought he knew what might do the trick, but he wasn't sure how to go about it.
Shepard had, through long practice and necessity, learned how to bottle up her problems, to put aside what she felt in order to be free to act.Before now she had always been able to vent off the bottled-up stuff at a time and place of her choosing, in a fashion that best benefitted her.
She couldn't do it now, or she would have. Tali's first attempts to get Shepard to 'talk about it' failed, almost left the quarian in tears—though he thought that the tears were of frustration at not getting anywhere.
He knew, though, what Shepard needed. It was…well, not common among turians but common enough for him to know how to deal with it.
Shepard needed to break, but apparently couldn't do it on her own.
She needed help breaking, and if talking didn't do it, there was only one other alternative.
Someone—in this case he—would have to beat her without mercy until she could break down. He didn't relish the prospect. He was confident in his hand-to-hand skills, but all the same he did not want to be the one doling out wall-to-wall counseling.
Want in one hand, need in the other, and he knew which one was more necessary. He'd have to put aside sympathy in order to cater to necessity. It was a good thing he'd waited until the last of the crew who could be made to disembark had done so.
She came when he asked her to come, meeting him in the cargo bay.
"Yes?" she took him in, not wearing armor but plainclothes. He didn't like not wearing his armor and noticed that she did not seem to like being without hers. It was the first time since Aratoht he'd seen her without it, and the only reason she was without it was because he'd had EDI call Shepard down here as soon as Shepard climbed out of the shower.
He'd said it was 'important.' The AI probably embellished the necessity for Shepard to come to the cargo bay.
"We need to talk." He walked up to her, put an arm around her shoulders. She shifted, as if she meant to shrug him off, but she didn't complete the gesture.
"About what?"
He took a moment to steel himself. "You're in a bad way, Shepard."
"I'm fine. Is that what this is about? My ugly mug?" But there was no joking indication that he wasn't one to talk about being ugly.
"You need help, Shepard."
She shrugged out from under his friendly arm. "We're done here. You're getting off at Palaven."
Garrus found that there was no verbal way to open controlled hostilities. He stuck out an arm to impede her progress.
She stepped around it.
He moved to block her path of travel.
She sidestepped, and again, and finally pursed her lips in irritation.
She staggered when he reached out and shoved her back.
She took a deep, calming breath. "I know what you're trying to do, Garrus."
"Do you?"
"And it isn't necessary."
"I think it is."
"I don't."
Garrus wanted to close his eyes, but he didn't as he backhanded Shepard, full in the face.
She staggered back, a little surprised at the blow. Anger flashed in her eyes. That was good, the first cracks in that duracrete containment shell she'd shoved everything she was bottling up into. She seemed to remind herself what he was doing, reminded herself that she was not going to waste time playing along.
She made to dart past him; he blocked her.
She tried to loop him; he stuck out a leg over which she stumbled.
By now the annoyance had built up into irritability. At the very least, the spark came back into her eyes and stayed there. That was good. The hard part was coming up, though. He didn't relish the prospect to begin with, and disliked it more than ever. Shepard didn't balk at fighting anyone when goaded into it.
He wished Thane was here. Thane would understand the necessity and probably be a better candidate for administering this kind of tough love. That was what Shepard needed most: someone she could fight tooth and nail and not overcome, an implacable force she could beat herself to pulp against without gaining an inch.
"Garrus, I'm not joking. Get out of my way."
"Or what?" He was here, once again in her way, though this time he grabbed her arm, spun her around and gave her a hearty push back from the cargo bay doors, negating all the ground she'd gained during previous scuffles.
He paid her a mental apology: turian carapace was tough on human skin.
He immediately disregarded that apology: this was for her own good.