Chapter Eleven: Fire in My Belly, Riot in the Gut
Shepard led her team up the steps as the council went over the recording of Saren that the quarian, Tali, had handed over to them.
"You wanted your proof, and there it is!"
The Council looked between themselves; they hated to admit defeat. Once it was unanimously agreed that Saren would be stripped of his Spectre status, the bright orange light of their omnitool lit up on each arm.
"We cannot send a fleet after one person, Udina, but we do have another solution." Their fingers tapped against the solidified surface, before the light faded away. "One that will not need a fleet or armies to stop Saren."
Shepard felt the ping of her own omnitool, and glanced down at it.
Spectre Status Recognized
"Commander Shepard, if you will please step forward."
Udina stepped back, finally happy with the advancement humanity was making in the new parts of the galaxy they had discovered. She glanced over to Anderson, and he gave her a small smile and a nod. Shepard took Udina's spot, feet were shoulder width apart and hands clasped together behind her back.
The asari councilor began, "The decision of the Council grants you all privileges and resources of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance division of the Citadel."
"Spectres are not trained but chosen," The salarian councilor continued, but Shepard felt herself zone out around then.
Spectre. The first human spectre.
Mindoir, Akuze, Torfan, her N-training... All of that had prepared her for this moment. They are not trained, but chosen. Her life had trained her for this next step. She felt her chest expand with pride.
"This is a great accomplishment for you and your species, Commander," the turian councilor said, and she took it as much as a congratulations as it could be.
"I am honored, councilors. I hope I make mankind and the Council proud."
"Your first mission is to stop Saren by any means necessary, Commander."
Shepard nodded and the Council dismissed her.
"Way to go, Commander," Williams said with a grin once Shepard descended the stairs down into the commons area of the citadel tower. Shepard grinned back and playfully brushed off the dust on her shoulder armor.
"About damn time they awarded me for my excellent service. I didn't go through years of N-school training just to be stuck flying routine drop off missions until I'm Anderson's age."
.
"So… you and the good doctor, huh?"
"What are you getting at Shepard?"
"You and Michel. Do the do. The horizontal tango. The rodeo."
"You mean sex?"
"No I mean petting puppies and braiding each other's hair."
"You're a very confusing woman, Shepard."
"Yes, Garrus, I meant sex."
"The only human I've had relations with is you."
She paused. "Really?"
"Wow, Shepard, you almost sound surprised. Yes, you're the only one. Why would I lie to you?"
Shepard didn't answer Garrus.
.
Shepard run her fingers through the long strand of hair that was unbraided, wet, and laying over her shoulder. She was dressed in her workout gear, fingerless gloves covering her hands. There was sweat soaked through her tank top. The Normandy's crew was asleep, save for the co-pilot who was taking over for Joker and the few on second shift duty.
She couldn't sleep, not with her dreams being filled with the bright reminder of the Protheans and the terror that ripped their world apart one by one.
She walked the expanse of the shuttle bay, stretched her arms and tried to let herself fall into the familiar burn of a run, even if she was stuck in close quarters. Shepard bypassed the Mako and weapons lockers, taking deep breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. She had made ten laps total before a turian in deep blue casuals appeared, leaning against the Mako.
Shepard slowed to a jog before stopping completely in front of him. Her chest moved up and down with each deep breath. Two fingers came up to check her pulse and she timed herself. Good, her heartrate was at an acceptable level.
"It's past your bed time, Vakarian," she said, walking over to grab the thermos of cold water and small hand towel to wipe her face clean. Garrus watched her, those blue eyes baring down on her like he was drinking her in once more.
"That's a new scar," he said, almost nonchalantly, but Shepard was surprised he had noticed. She was covered in scars, what was one more?
"Which one is that?" She tried to play it off like she wasn't taken back by his statement, but if he knew her body that well… Did turians have memories that were that good?
Garrus pushed himself off the Mako a moment later and strode over to her, that slight swagger in his walk still made her mouth water. Shepard made her breathing even out, but her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest. He leaned forward, mandibles flicking out and that same purr she always heard from him buzzed in her ears.
"This one," he answered, gloved hand ghosting her waist where three through-bullet wounds had pierced her armor and then straight through her. "I don't remember this one."
"I got it during my last N-school," she answered, tongue feeling like it had grown three sizes in her mouth. "That's why I went back to Earth. N6 is the last designation you can get from their courses, and then I was immediately put into combat after recovering. I've been an N7 for only a few months. It's… It's weird. I'm not forced to wear the N7 on my clothing or armor, but they gave me all this free stuff and I didn't particularly turn it all down."
Garrus gave his version of a chuckle, his gloved hand coming up to play with the ends of the one long lock of hair that was splayed across part of her chest and back now, from her run.
"When people see me… it's mostly the humans but there are some other species as well. They see me as this machine. This person that has killed and survived countless wars and raids and firefights. They used to call me the Butcher of Torfan."
He heard her breath hitch, her first sign of wear on her inner strength.
"I survived Akuze and then what do I do? I turn around and kill to forget. Kill to balance out the ruthless calculus of the universe. No one else knows this, but the squad of batarians that I executed, they were on Mindoir. They were the ones that took my family. You don't forget the faces and voices of the people that drag your family from their beds and then shoot any of them that run."
Garrus took her into his arms and Shepard finds herself clinging to the back of his civvies. His cowl is hard against her cheek, but he's purring to comfort her and the vibrations rumble from his chest to hers. Those hands no longer gloved, run over the short, buzzed hair at the base of her neck before brushing through the longer pieces closer to the top.
"You don't have to continue," he tells her, so low her translator almost doesn't pick it up. "Whether you've killed one or one thousand, I don't care Shepard. You've been through some shit and still find the will to crawl out of bed every morning. I have more respect for you than I do anyone else."
Shepard mumbled something against his cowl, but he didn't bothering asking her to repeat it.
"I know some men that haven't seen half the shit you've dealt with, and are a lot worse off."
Shepard didn't speak for a few moments, and Garrus didn't push her.
"There was another assignment…" she started but trailed over. "On Elysium. I could have taken it, become a goddamn war hero. Could have gotten the fucking Star of Terra if I had been there. Hell, I would probably be a Rear Admiral now if I had gone. But the second I found out about the batarians on Torfan…"
"Shepard, don't."
"No, I need. I need to get this out or it's going to fucking haunt me for the rest of my days."
Garrus let her speak.
"I killed those men, Garrus. Without hesitation. Took my pistol, pointing between all of their fucking eyes and shot them. All six of them. The leader, he remembered me. Begged me for mercy, asked me to forgive him, he –"
Her voice caught and her throat burned. Garrus led her over to the Mako and they both sat down, leaning against the large rear tire. Shepard stared across the way at the weapons lockers. Her pistol was so close. She could just easy take it out and point it up –
"Stop, Toni." She looked up, surprised at his sternness. And he had used her name. She hadn't been called Toni in… years. It was always Shepard, or Commander. "Stop. I know that look and… spirits, how could you even think that?"
"It'd be for the best."
"No it wouldn't."
Shepard didn't fight him. They sat there until one of the first engineers for the first shift came down, dragging his feet with a mug of coffee in hand. He raised an eye at the two, but said nothing.
After hours of silence, Shepard stood and walked away, fingers slowly braiding at the small strand over her shoulder.
.
"Why did you cut your hair?"
Shepard looked up from the datapad she was reading, waiting for Joker to brief her on when they were going to jump through the relay. There was a small side mission they needed to complete for the Admiral before going after Dr. T'Soni.
"What do you mean?"
"When we first met, you hair was very long. And then… you cut it. But you still have that little… thing." He motioned to her braid as he sat down in the mess across from her.
"Oh." She sat down the mug of coffee and her fingers instantly went to the end of the small braid. "During Torfan, I got hit with a plasma ball. Shields were low and I wasn't watching my flank. Singed off half my hair. I had seen this really interested hairstyle, where you use the braid kind of like a hairband." She moved the braid so that it wrapped around her head, and Garrus had to admit it added very nicely to her features. "So I kept it."
She shrugged, and Garrus just twitched a mandible in amusement. Shepard paused for a moment, before giving him a small smile and continuing to read her datapad.