.

Loyalty and Limerence

Part 1

Chapter 21

(Content Warning: Slight trigger warning for struggles with PTSD, but I don't think it's super detailed.)

The Citadel, 1 Month Later

As Garrus stepped into the club, he was immediately assaulted by bright lights, loud music, and a crowd of people, causing him to stop in his tracks. For a split second, he saw instead the red emergency lighting, explosions, and splatters of blood as screams ripped the air. He nearly staggered as panic threatened to choke him and he ducked back out of the door for a moment to ground himself in an attempt to control the episode.

Taking a handful of deep breaths, he tried to force himself to notice the surrounding details. Slowly, he finally started to feel himself calm enough that he felt comfortable trying again and hesitantly stepped through the door. Prepared this time, he tried to narrow his focus to the bar in the back, and after a moment of searching he saw the brown hair pulled back in a bun that he was searching for.

"Ashley. Good to see you." Garrus said as cheerfully as he could manage as he fell into the stool next to the soldier. She looked up, and Garrus noticed with concern the dark circles under her eyes, which he'd come to associate with lack of sleep in humans. She smiled wearily and tipped her drink to him in greeting.

"Good to see you, too, Garrus."

"Thanks for agreeing to meet up, I haven't gotten many chances to see many of the others lately."

"No worries, I can always do with a drink." With that, she threw back what was left of her beer and signaled the bar keeper for another. "How are you holding up?" Garrus hesitated, his mind going back to the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the dissociative episodes…

"Doing as well as the rest, I suppose." Ashley snorted at that before taking a sip of her new drink.

"Yeah, tell me about it…" She replied with a sigh, and Garrus knew she understood first hand exactly what he'd been going through. They all did.

"Have you seen many of the others recently?" Garrus couldn't bring himself to ask about Jane, even though she never seemed to leave his thoughts. He'd been trying to get a hold of her, but she hadn't responded to any of his attempts. He'd had to be content with second hand accounts of her well being, such as it was.

"Not too many others. I saw Kaidan last week, he's mostly keeping it together." Ashley murmured, taking a deep draft from her newly opened drink. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "And I saw Jane yesterday." Garrus felt his breath hitch slightly in surprise, but did his best to remain impassive. No one seemed to have seen much of her, and he was desperate for information.

"How's she doing?" He asked cautiously, and Ashley sighed before putting her drink down.

"She- she's struggling. Understandably. I don't think she has many healthy coping mechanisms. Definitely drinking her sorrows away. I'm not really sure what to do, she usually refuses to see me, or anyone for that matter." Garrus felt himself sag at the news and brought a hand up to his face as he sighed in frustration at how powerless he felt. If she wouldn't see him or even respond to his messages, how was he supposed to help her?

"... I see." He replied after a moment when it seemed Ashley had little left to add.

"I'm sorry Garrus, I wish I could tell you more, but she didn't let me stay long. She only let me in because Anderson sent me to check on her."

"No, I understand. Thanks for letting me know, for what it's worth."

"Also, I don't think they've made an announcement yet, but Anderson let me know that the Alliance has officially declared Shepard as Killed in Action." The statement sat heavily between the two soldiers, and Garrus felt sick as he digested it. He shut his eyes and sighed, feeling mourning cords threatening to hum in his sub vocals. "The memorial service is going to be held in about a week, I believe. They'll send around the official announcement soon, I'm sure. Just thought you ought to hear it from a friend, first."

"Thanks, Ashley."

Shepard… It was as though the scab had been ripped off, the wound fresh again. It still didn't quite feel real, even after so many weeks.

When the day of the memorial finally arrived, Garrus wasn't sure if time had flashed by or crept at a crawl. He'd been both dreading and looking forward to the day. Saying goodbye to Shepard was going to be one of the most painful and difficult experiences of his life, he already knew that. But he was going to see Jane again after weeks of worrying about and missing her.

The memorial was being held on the Presidium, though he knew there would be other, smaller memorial services held both on Earth and on Elysium. When he first arrived at the green where all the chairs were set up for the service, he'd been somewhat relieved. It was such an open and bright space, there was no way he was going to have an episode there. The last thing he wanted was to make a spectacle at a time like that.

But as people started arriving, milling about and chatting, it started to become harder and harder to breathe. The familiar faces of the surviving crew members became painful to look at, even as he tried to smile, nod, and participate in the expected small talk. Garrus could already feel himself starting to dissociate as he fought the onset of memories he desperately didn't want to think about. It was as if he were sitting in the back of his own head, no longer piloting, just watching like a spectator as his body went through the motions.

He tried to preoccupy himself with watching for Jane's telltale flash of red hair, but to his disappointment, she didn't arrive until right before it started, leaving him no chance to seek her out. He'd never been to a human memorial service before, and he didn't really know what to expect, though he wasn't surprised to see that Jane had been led to a seat right up front, being Shepard's only surviving family member.

The part of him that was sitting detached in the back of his own head noted vaguely that the service itself was an interesting lesson in human culture, though somewhat shorter than he expected for such a long winded species. There were a few pretty speeches about Shepard's virtues, accomplishments, and service records, but they all rang hollow from people such as Udina, who frankly had a lot of nerve to get up and talk about Shepard after everything.

It wasn't until Councilor Anderson's turn that Garrus started to feel like the entire thing wasn't an insult to Shepard's memory. As he spoke, it was clear that the man had known Shepard for years, had served with him, and respected him deeply. Finally, Anderson, who appeared to be profoundly affected, took a deep inhale, collected himself, and finished his speech with a line that stuck with Garrus.

"...Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Men like Shepard… even more rare."

Once Anderson had made his way back to his seat, a line of soldiers slowly marched forward. Garrus noticed after a moment that they seemed to be holding some very out of style rifles before they stopped and lifted them in sync. He nearly jumped out of his seat, along with many others, as ear splitting cracks broke the silence, cutting through the bright, open space of the Presidium. After a moment, the sharp tang of gunpowder wafted through the air, adding to the strange dissonance of the experience. It was so similar to certain turian customs, and yet so wildly different in the details. Just as he thought the cracks were going to split his head in two, they stopped as suddenly as they had begun, leaving nothing but the tense, echoing silence.

A single man stood up, then, and held a small, brass instrument up to his lips, and Garrus realized suddenly that everyone around him had stood as well, and he quickly joined them. As the man began to play his song into the silence, it felt as though each note echoed the gravity of the despair in the air. The song was doleful, slow, and nearly haunting in the way each note seemed to waver. As it went on, it seemed to resonate with the grief in his chest, making it hard to breathe again.

Garrus was so distracted by the song that it was half over before he realized that a number of soldiers up front were busy folding some sort of flag in an intricate pattern. It seemed like a very deliberate display, and he couldn't help but wonder at the purpose. He didn't have long to wonder, though, for as the last notes of the song dissipated, a soldier turned to face the assembled crowd, the flag folded into a tight triangle in his arms. After a few, slow, deliberate steps forward, the man stopped solemnly in front of Jane.

The man held the flag out to her, and with deceptive calm, she took the flag, holding it close as the soldier saluted her before turning and marching away. The ceremony ended soon after, but Garrus couldn't tear his eyes away from his red headed friend. As people started to file out of the rows of seats, he did his best to weave his way around them toward his quarry. But by the time he made it up front, she was long gone, hurrying away toward a path leading away from the green.

"Jane!" Garrus called out, dodging around people, throwing a hand in the air in hopes that she'd turn and notice him. To his confusion, instead of stopping she only seemed to stiffen before picking up her pace. "Jane, wait up!" He broke into a run until he managed to catch up and reached for her in an attempt to slow her down.

"Leave me alone, Vakarian." Jane jerked her hand away just as they touched as though burned, and they both came to a stop. She turned to partially face him, and he got his first good look at her in a month.

To say Jane was not herself was an understatement, and Garrus could see what Ashley meant when she'd said Jane was struggling. The first thing he noticed was that her hair, which usually shone a vibrant red, seemed dull, limp, and disheveled, as though she hadn't done more than run her fingers through it that morning. Her face appeared thinner than usual and her Alliance dress uniform, though impeccable, seemed to hang on her in a way that suggested she'd lost weight recently. The arm not holding the flag was clutched to her tightly, still wrapped in a brace as the bones healed.

When her eyes finally met his, he felt his heart sink. Her green eyes, usually adorned with vivacity, life, and spirit, were currently dull, listless, and leaden. They were rimmed with dark circles, and though they lacked the redness that he associated with recent crying, her jaw was tensed in a way that suggested she was exhibiting as much control as she currently was able.

"Jane…" Garrus took a small step closer to the woman before him and she almost seemed to flinch, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You haven't been answering my messages, I've been worried about you. Is there anything I can do?"

"Just leave." The words cut through him, but he took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain.

"I just want to help, I know you're going through a lot right now." Her eyes flashed and for a second, he saw a little of her old self there.

"Really? And what, exactly, do you know about what I'm going through right now? When have you ever been through something similar?" Jane spat, her shoulders squaring as she finally turned to face him completely, her lip curling up almost into a sneer.

"Where is this coming from? I know you're hurting right now, we all are, but-"

"Don't give me that shit, I'm sick and tired of it. I lost my brother. My only family. I don't want to hear empty platitudes anymore." She snapped with disgust, and with that she sharply turned to leave, clutching the folded flag to her side tightly. Garrus stood there in shocked silence for a moment before lurching forward into a trot.

"Jane, don't-" He tried to grab her arm again to slow her, but when he made to close his fingers, she jerked around very quickly and her hands collided with his chest, shoving him backwards violently as the flag fell to the ground at her feet.

"No, YOU don't! I don't want to see your fucking face right now, Vakarian! I have nothing to say to you!" Garrus stumbled but managed to stay on his feet, bringing his hands up in front of him in a peace offering. Confusion swam through him and his mind quickly started running through all their previous interactions, trying to pinpoint what had started this.

"I don't under-" Jane took another step toward him, her stance clearly aggressive as she seemed to be succumbing to the anger seething beneath her skin.

"You don't understand? Fuck you and fuck Kaidan, I don't want anything to do with either of you. My brother might still be alive today if not for both of you!" Jane yelled, her eyes gleaming with barely controlled rage. Her words washed over him like a wave and he felt cold confusion start to bloom into indignant anger.

"How can you say that?! That's insane, I had nothing to do with Shepard's death!" They were starting to attract notice from others nearby, but neither of them paid them any mind. Jane's eyes seemed to spit fire and he found it impossible to look away, her gaze pinning him.

"Nothing?! If you hadn't dragged me off the Normandy, I could have done something, I could have protected him! He didn't have to die, I could have been there for him!" The flood gates seemed to shatter and the tears that had been threatening to fall started trickling down her cheeks as she flung her arms out in outrage. "I should have been there to protect him, and I wasn't because of you! My brother died alone because of you!"

"That's not true! If you had gone after him, you would probably be dead, too!" Garrus felt the heat of his own anger starting to boil at the baseless accusations, especially coming from someone he'd previously thought he'd known so well.

"I should be dead right now, not John! I should have been the one to die above Alchera, not him!" Her eyes were wide now, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. "It should have been ME!" The words hung in the air between them, and after a moment, Garrus took a slow step closer. He felt the anger melt away as dawning realization set in, having seen the rot of survivor's guilt before.

"Jane, you can't save everyone. Shepard was right, you always put your life at risk to protect others." He took another step forward and reached up to put a hand on her shaking shoulder hesitantly, "But your brother wouldn't have wanted you to sacrifice yourself for him."

Pain exploded across his head and the world spun as her fist collided with his face, sending him stumbling to the side.

"You have NO right to tell me what John would have wanted!" Jane screamed in fury, and when he managed to look up, his hand clutching his throbbing mandible, he saw that Ashley and Tali had darted forward, each grabbing one of Jane's arms. They wrestled with her as she tried to break free, her eyes wild with rage as she attempted to come at him again.

"LT, this is not the place. Shepard would not have wanted this." Ashley shot at her, and after another moment of grappling, Jane finally relented. Once they were sure she had calmed down enough, they let her shake them off. Tali bent down to pick up Jane's folded flag, cradling it for a moment before brushing a few streay blades of grass from it.

Garrus was still reeling in shock, and if his face hadn't been in so much pain, he never would have been able to believe what had happened. It was suddenly difficult to breathe and he felt a hard lump in the back of his throat. As Jane's eyes met his again, he felt something in him crack at the hard, disdainful look she shot him.

"Leave me alone, Vakarian. I don't want to see your face again. Stop trying to contact me, we're done." The words were like a shot through the heart, and suddenly Garrus could understand the pain that supposedly killed the fictional heartbroken heroes in his sister's silly romance novels. He just stood there, speechless, as Jane turned sharply and walked toward Tali, taking the flag without another word, and strode off toward the nearby entrance to Bachjret Ward.

A voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to run after her, but it was almost as if he was experiencing one of the dissociative episodes again. His feet were rooted to the spot as though he had no actual control over his limbs. After a few moments, he realized people around him were talking, and someone was talking to him in particular.

"Garrus? Are you alright?" Tali had stepped forward toward him, a hesitant hand coming up to lightly pat his arm.

"What? Oh. Yeah. Everything's fine. I'm-" Garrus swallowed, suddenly horribly aware of the fact that everyone was looking at him. A little ways off, Kaidan stood with a stunned and hurt expression on his face, beside him was Wrex, staring after Jane with a raised brow. All of a sudden, he became desperate to be alone. "I should go. I'll see you around." He made his escape, not really sure where his feet were taking him, only knowing that he wanted to be gone. He had shards of tender feelings wedged in sensitive places that he needed to slowly start working free. Somehow.

Hours later, his feet finally found their way back to his apartment. He walked through the door and just stood there in the dark for spirits knew how long, still in shock over the events of the day. After a few minutes, he walked over to the shelf he kept a number of framed photos on. The backlit screens emitted a soft light as they displayed a series of familiar faces smiling up at him. His mother, father, and sister… His C-Sec academy graduation… The Normandy, a few of various groups of crew members… Shepard… Jane and himself, heads nearly brushing each other's as she pulled him close for the photo, goofy grins evidence of a particularly fun shore leave.

With a scream of pain and rage, his arm swiped across the shelf, throwing all the photos to the floor. He paced back and forth for a moment before sitting down upon his bed, his elbows propped on his knees, his head in his hands. Deep in the back of his throat, he could feel the keening of his sub vocals as he let the waves of grief and anguish wash over him.

It wasn't until a week or two later that Garrus started to feel like he could do more than the bare minimum to get through the day. The loss of Shepard, the Normandy and so much of its crew, and then finally the end of his friendship with Jane had taken a toll on him. He was also struggling with what the doctor had told him was most likely PTSD, which just made everything more difficult.

It was a visit from his dad that finally got him moving forward, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. The older man had been surprisingly gentle and understanding, in his own way, and Garrus supposed he'd seen his fair share of loss over the years. But the message had been clear: It was time to get off his ass and get back to work. Apparently that was the only way to start feeling better.

Which was how Garrus found himself sitting in his father's office at C-Sec, filling out forms to be reinstated on the force. It was taking a frustratingly long time to get through all the paperwork, but he shouldn't have been surprised. That was always the way of things here. His father was going over events that Garrus had missed such as changes to policies, people who'd been promoted or demoted, and major cases, but Garrus was having issues dredging up enough interest to care.

"Okay, but what about the Reapers? What's being done about them?" Garrus cut in, prompting his father's jaw to snap shut with a raised brow plate.

"As far as I know, the council has recently voted to shelf the matter of the 'Reapers'." The words were spoken evenly, but the message carried via subvocals was that of irritated disdain for the topic.

"What?!" Garrus shot to his feet, unsure if what he was feeling was more fear or anger.

"I know you have some sort of inexplicable loyalty to Shepard, but you must understand that, on this topic at least, most of us are agreed. The Reapers were clearly just a lie Saren told to control the geth." Garrus felt his mandibles flick with irate disbelief and he stepped forward to smack his hands down on his father's desk.

"You have got to be kidding me! I was there, I heard Sovereign speak to Shepard. The Reapers are real and they are coming."

"Garrus, calm down. See it from our perspec-"

"No. I was on Ilos with Shepard, I met the Prothean VI, it told us all about how the Reapers wiped them out. If we don't act now, the same thing will happen to us! I've seen the proof, these aren't just Shepard's 'delusions', it's the truth!"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but you must understand how far-fetched this all sounds." His father remained sitting at his desk, leaning back slightly, his arms crossed before his chest. The even calmness in his voice and subvocals did nothing but enrage Garrus further. Pushing back away from the desk, Garrus threw his arms in the air in defeat.

"You know what? Screw this. I'm leaving, I'm not sure why I thought this place was going to be any different this time around. None of you ever have what it takes to go after the real problems." With that, Garrus turned and left the office, leaving the forms and paperwork half filled behind him.

"Garrus, stop. Let's talk ab-" The door shut behind him, and Garrus didn't look back.

When he got home, he couldn't stop pacing his apartment like a trapped and cornered animal. An unsettled, maddening energy buzzed just beneath his skin and he itched to release it somehow. Rage coiled in his belly with no outlet, and suddenly it felt like it had been building up since the attack on the Normandy, though it had become increasingly difficult to manage since the memorial service.

He had to get out, he had to go somewhere, do something. His first thought was to head out to the bar, get some drinks, but he immediately shot the idea down. He'd been avoiding that outlet recently, as it kept bringing up memories of recent shore leaves that he'd rather not haunt him at the moment.

Stopping for a moment, Garrus gazed out the window at the Ward stretching out into the distance. As the cars flying by gleamed and the lights below flashed up at him, he couldn't help the upswell of disgust coursing through him. The entire station was built upon a pack of lies and hypocrisies and it made him sick. The only person he'd ever met that had ever managed to truly have a positive effect on the world was dead now, and the world seemed like such a bleaker place for it, most of all the Citadel.

He couldn't stay here. The thought seemed to echo through his head, getting louder each time it rebounded at him. He had to get out, to leave, to go somewhere where he could actually do some sort of good.

There's a time and place for people like you and me and the way we prefer to do things. The words drifted back to him from what felt like eons ago. The words Jane had uttered to him back when he was still grappling with the aftermath of the Saleon incident.

Maybe now was the time, and all he had to do was find the place. It wouldn't be hard to follow the trails from some of his old cases that he hadn't been allowed to pursue before. No doubt they'd lead to plenty of dark corners throughout the galaxy where he could actually do some good. It was only a matter of a little foot work.

As he stepped onto the ship heading toward the Terminus Systems, he took one last look out over the Wards of the Citadel. It all seemed so oddly anticlimactic. He'd been trying not to second guess himself, trying not to listen to the small voice whispering that he was fleeing. It kept murmuring that running away from people and fights he didn't want to face was an insult to Shepard's memory. The Reapers weren't going to stop their invasion simply because Garrus decided to say "fuck you" to red tape and bureaucracy…

But then, for a split second, he was back upon the crumbling Normandy, screams only drowned out by the explosions around him, and a pair of furious green eyes cut through him like a knife, peeling the plates back and driving right into his heart.

Even after everything, he couldn't be angry at her, only anguished at how powerless he was, both to help her and to stop their friendship from being slashed to pieces within an instant. Spirits, he wished he could have said goodbye to her one last time. Refocusing his eyes, he glanced at the small set of numbers in the corner of his visor.

-Kill Count-

[GV: 210]

[JS: 215]

He'd tried a handful of times to delete the display, but each time he couldn't bring himself to do it. The numbers hadn't changed since before the Normandy's destruction, and it just sat there, a constant reminder of a life he no longer lived. A life that had been ripped away in the blink of an eye.

Taking a deep breath, Garrus tore his eyes away and stepped aboard the ship. No looking back.