WARNING: This chapter contains graphic suicide and mentions of past abuse. If these subjects are harmful to you, please skip the passage between the * *.

Chapter Fifteen: Haven't Left

As Shepard stepped off of the Normandy, it was obvious she had not been sleeping well. She was in desperate need of a sleeping pill and a warm source to sleep on. Shepard probably didn't even need the sleeping pill, she would probably sleep for the next 16 hours easily on her own. But she had a report to give and a council to report to before she could even think of a nap.

Shepard kept her armor on, for now. The rest of the crew, for the most part, had changed into their civvies and left the ship for a restful twenty-four hours of off-duty fun.

Shepard crossed paths with Garrus at the main elevator that would take her down to C-Sec.

"Meet me for drinks in an hour?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Shepard smiled at Garrus' thrum, the vibration tickling the inside of her ear.

They entered the elevator together, taking it down alone. There was distance between them both, but only barely. Shepard's fingers gently brushed against his gloved ones. Her lips turned up into another smile and his mandible flicked in amusement. Earth brown met space blue.

A pink tongue flicked out to wet dry lips, lips searching to form her words. A muscle in his leg twitched.

Both breathed in the filtered air of the Citadel slowly.

The door to the elevator opened and Shepard stepped out first. Garrus followed closely behind, his gloved hands itching to hold her firm waist again, but they split ways.

Shepard bypassed a nosy reporter, threatening to shoot the woman's camera if she didn't turn it off.

Her omni-tool pinged, and a crackle was heard in her ear before a voice came over asking for her.

Commander Shepard?

"Who is this? This is a private comm."

Shepard wanted nothing more than to ignore the ping and go sleep, but there must be a reason she was being called on by some random person. A random person who had access to her communications. That was never a good sign.

I apologize, Commander. This is Lieutenant Girard in the docking bay. The Alliance command gave me access to contact you. We have a situation. There's a… woman down here. She was rescued a few weeks ago from Batarian slavers. She was from Mindoir, taken during the raid on your town.

Shepard closed her eyes slowly, breathing deeply.

Over the last ten years, all Shepard had thought was that her entire colony was dead. Killed there during the raid or later after taken prisoner. Shepard pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, pausing any words that would have spilled out if she didn't watch herself.

She got away from her caretaker, and we found her here in the bay. She took one of my guy's guns. She says…

Don't say it. Don't say it.

She says she wants to die.

Shepard squeezed her eyes a little harder.

I was hoping you might talk to her? I know it's a long shot, but you went through similar things. I figured you could calm her down and uh, 'talk her out of her tree,' so to speak.

"I'm on my way, Lieutenant. Sit tight. Inform me of any changes."

Of course, commander.

Quiet.

"Shepard?" The commander looked to the turian, face even and blank. "What is it?"

"There's a… situation on the docks."

Could she save her? Could she do anything to help the poor girl?

Garrus nodded, and followed her back to the elevator. Shepard was glad she didn't have to ask him to accompany her.

"Talitha? Talitha Marren?"

The girl… she looked like a feral animal. Eyes twitching back and forth, looking for an escape. Garrus was behind her, watching her 6. Shepard tried to be careful, happy that she had holstered her pistol on her back instead of at her side.

"Don't come any- any closer! She wants to be left alone!"

Shepard felt her heart break. The neutral expression she tried to hold fell into one of hurt.

"Talitha, please, calm down. You know me. We grew up together. My name is Toni, don't you remember? Toni Shepard. We had Miss Cash's science class together. You had a dog named Rufus. You always wore bows in your hair."

Mindoir was a faint distant memory that was drug to the surface violently.

The loud engines of the shuttles as the raiders touched down on their tiny farming community. Her mother, running in from checking the crops. Her father reached for his shotgun, hidden not-so-secretly under his desk in the front room. The screen of their data port flashed red and sirens went off simultaneously.

The neighbor's dog, a little herder mutt that was always so sweet, yelped and barked as doors were pushed through and guns went off.

The sirens never stopped the whole time.

Shepard hid with her mother in the back shed, an old dilapidated thing that her father had said he would clear out, yet the weekend went by and it still stood for over two years.

The colony had been quiet when her mother left. Just to see if the raiders were gone and anyone was left. She had sat silently, waiting for the signal that everything was fine, that it was safe.

The gun shot.

Shepard could see it on her face, Talitha was slowly remembering.

The light shined through the dead eyes.

There were bad memories of Mindoir, but there were good ones too.

"Please, Talitha, I'm not going to hurt you. No one is ever going to hurt you again, I promise. Please, just put the gun down. Let's get you something to eat. Remember pizza? I know the best place in the Citadel."

It was working. Slowly but surely, it was working. She lowered the gun, eyes cast down but alive.

Shepard remembered seeing dead eyes staring back at her in the mirror every morning as she formed all of her hair into a tight bun that would meet regulations. She remembered seeing the flash of light that signaled she was still there, she was still sane.

"You're safe, Talitha. No more masters. No more burning or beating or wires, I promise."

Shepard slowly, hesitantly, put her gloved hand on Talitha's shoulder and used the other to coax the pistol from her hand. "There you go, nice and easy. No one is going to hurt you, 'Litha."

Talitha's eyes flashed upward, back to the same feral look she held just moments before. Shepard just watched, unable to move, as the girl pulled the pistol from Shepard and held it to her head. Her heart jumped up into her throat and she tried to push the weapon away.

The gun shot.

The screams for her mother. For her father. For her neighbors and teachers and the friends she played with every day after classes.

They wished for death more than they wished for life.

No.

"No one with hurt her again."

"NO!"

Shepard flinched back as she felt the warmth of blood hit her face. Things then sped up; Talitha's body slumped down against the crates. She could feel Garrus' words in the air, but she couldn't hear them. Just the loud blast of the gun. He pulled her away from the body, away from the smoking gun, turning her horrified eyes away from it.

"She- she- she-"

"I know, Shepard, I know. Deep breaths, come on, calm down."

Shepard shook in his arms, her armor clattering against his. Garrus' pur, the vibration of his subharmonics, eased her to calm down. She no longer gasped for air, trying to find the breath in her lungs. It was there, but it tasted of acid and metal. He brought his gloved hands up to wipe the smears of red blood from her face, and then took them off to stuff them away into a compartment in his armor to be thrown out later.

"Come on, Shepard, let's get out of here," he told her softly. Her ears still rung from the shot, the in-ears buzzing to balance out the sounds, and she could only nod.

If it weren't for the shock still set in her bones, Shepard could have showed her surprise that Garrus still had his apartment. The moment they were inside, he helped her from her armor and eased her into the shower. It had been a few weeks since he had been home, but it felt nice to be somewhere familiar.

He left her to clean herself, happy he had bought that soap for humans so long ago for her. This would be the first time she used it.

When he felt like she was taking too long, Garrus stood in the doorway, waiting. At a sudden crash, he rushed forward and opened the frosted glass to make sure she was okay. Shepard crumbled at the bottom of the shower stall, physically clean of dirt and grime and blood, but mentally forever stained.

"Why did you want to be a C-Sec officer?"

The sharp tip of his talon paused from the circles he had been drawing on her hip. Then it continued as he situated them to be comfortable again. He knew she had woken up sometime during the night, but he wasn't sure when.

"I didn't."

Shepard gave a low snort of air.

"Really, I didn't. I was elected to go through Spectre training, along with thousands of other turians, but I wanted to do that more than anything. Get things done without having to worry about red tape and chains of command. I was the command."

"What changed that?"

"My dad. He... didn't like Spectres. Still doesn't like Spectres. Says they're outlaws, criminals using the council as their mask for true intentions. I suppose that's true for Saren but... Saren is one person. They're not all like that, are they?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Garrus."

Garrus looked down at her. Her hair was still damp from her shower, skin pale and sickly. Not the usual even tan he was used to seeing. He knew she was thirsting for her flask. The offending metal container was back on the ship, hidden in the supply closet.

"You're a good woman, Shepard. I don't care what anyone else says about you."

"Talking about me behind my back to Alenko?"

"He really likes you."

Shepard groaned and pressed her face against the soft bowl-like cushions of Garrus' bed. There was no laughter from the turian, and after a minute or so, she peaked out to look up at him. He was watching her with eyes so blue she could have drowned in them.

"I really like you."

It made her smile.

"I really like you, too."

Then, with as much effort as he could, Garrus gave his version of a smile to match her. The vibrations of his confession could be felt from her ears to her toes. Shepard laid down again, quiet, and the two slept.

.

"No, I will not sacrifice my pizza craving for your, whatever the heck that is."

"Its -"

"No, don't even try to explain it to me. Last time my translator fizzled out and all I heard was static for three minutes."

"That was years ago, Shepard. They've upgraded the omni-translator since then."

"Not going to risk it."

Garrus' vibrations made her ear tickle and Shepard quickly shushed him. They had less than half of their shore leave left, but Shepard was going to get her greasy human food craving. She had been eating nothing but slop (when she did eat and not drink herself into a stupor) for weeks and she needed something warm and not still alive.

They moved carelessly, thoughtlessly, through the lower level of the Zakara ward, enjoying each other's presence. To any regular person, they looked like close friends. To the turians that could hear Garrus' low sounds, it was much, much more than that.

Shepard's hand brushed against his fingers, and she looked sheepishly at him from the corner of her eye. He said nothing, as if not noticing, but the twitching mandible said otherwise.

"So, I get my pizza and you can get whatever you want – except for the thing that sent my translator into a fritz. It smelled like wet cat food and sour milk."

"I'll have you know that it is a very popular dish in my colony."

"If that colony consists of just you, okay, I can believe it."

If Garrus could scoff, he would have. Instead, his subharmonics gave off a playfulness that only Shepard caught on to. To anyone, they looked like two soldiers arguing over meals as they enjoyed their shore leave. To a stranger-Turian, who happened to be passing by, he caught the skimming of the three-fingered hand grazing the human's waist as they turned a corner. To a stranger-human, who watched the two enter the small café seating area, she noticed the closeness of the brunette's body to the tall, limbering one of an 'alien'.

To anyone, they were just a human and a turian, proving wrong what decades of wars said about the intergalactic relationship.

But in due time, they would all learn that there is no Shepard without Vakarian.