PART II
Chapter 12: Diffusion
1 year, 9 mo. after the end of the Reaper War
Okanagan Valley, British Columbia, Earth
An uncomfortable feeling had settled at the back of Garrus's throat, tense and full, as if choked with dust and earth. He cleared his throat several times and sat up straight at the small desk. He drew a deep breath. His finger hovered over the key. There's only so much time left to be a good son. He jabbed at the terminal, depending on his empty thoughts to counteract the lead weight in his heart.
"Hi, Mom. How are you holding up there?" he asked with unusual zeal.
There was no image at first. Only the audio had come through: the sound of something scraping, the thudding of feet on the floor, and a muffled voice sussurating from behind the camera's plane. Then she appeared. Mandibles draped alongside her open mouth, she sat stooped, upper body angled to the armrest, and her depthless, rutted face locked into a downward tilt.
"It's me, Mom."
She peered up with hazy eyes and studied the image that was in front of her. Her shoulder jerked. After a few moments, her mouth snapped shut; there was a glimmer of recognition, and she opened her mouth again to speak.
"Garrus?"
"It's me."
"W-where are you? Where have you been?" She spoke in a slow, curdled rasp—thick, like the vitul stew she used to make for Castis on his trips home to Palaven.
"I'm on Earth right now, for a memorial. A comrade—a friend—he was killed in action."
"What—what about your sister?"
Garrus leaned close to the terminal and spoke in a clear, practiced voice. "She's still in Tergeste, but she should be home in two days. Just like she promised." He'd answered the same questions enough times to know exactly what his mother needed to hear.
"And just what is she doing there? She should be in school right now, not cavorting around and playing hooky."
"She's not playing hooky, Mom, I promise—the university hasn't reopened. There's a shortage of doctors, so they're taking anyone with experience. Solana is working with the medical corps, helping people who need urgent care."
His mother began to chew absentmindedly.
"Don't worry, she won't be gone much longer," he said, attempting to ease her anxiety.
"Your dad—your father's not here either. I'm beginning to worry. Is he with you?"
The flinty points of Garrus' teeth strained against one another. "No, Dad's not here."
"Oh, I see." She scratched hard at the side of her neck. "He said he'd be home in time for our anniversary. It's not like your father to break his promises."
"You're right, Dad has always been true to his word." He almost added 'I'm sure you'll see him again soon', but he swallowed the words before he could spew them out. Words that should have been reassuring suddenly sounded sick and ominous.
"Did you know, for our first anniversary, he took me to the top of the tallest building in Ciprtine? What was it called…" His mom narrowed her eyes, and her head waggled in a sing-song rhythm. "Ah, yes, The Elegan, that's it. Of course, we didn't have a lot of money back then. We were young and scraping by on government salaries. But the lights…oh, the lights of the city were just so beautiful! Like stars in the sky." A labored sigh rushed out of her, and the yellow in her eyes rekindled like a warm ember. She tilted her head up to her caregiver, Tulia. "I want to go back there, when Castis comes home."
Garrus didn't have the heart to tell her that the building didn't exist anymore. None of those buildings did. And as for his dad—that was a hope he would never take away from her. "Sounds like a wonderful date, Mom. That must have been a sight to see."
His fingers curled around his knees. The churning in his stomach had returned, same as the one he had by the lake last night, and he wondered if he shouldn't find some new, sharp stones soon.
With the flick of a mandible, his mother's expression turned grave. The tendons in her hand bulged as she strangled the armrest. "Who—who…who was that human? In your home?" she asked, her subvocals vibrating with ire.
Garrus looked over his shoulder to see Shepard near the door and waving a book in the air, miming that she had come in to grab it from the nightstand. She mouthed an apology and left, and the door shut quickly behind her.
"That's Shepard—we've been dating for a while now." This wasn't the first time he'd had to explain her to his mother. "But I'm not at home, I'm on Earth, for the memorial."
"Well, I hope you're not planning on something long term. It's out of the question. Unnatural." The harsh click of her tongue brought Garrus back to childhood. "How do you even mate with a human? Can you imagine? The babies would be freaks!"
"Mom…"
His mother froze as if a spirit had passed through her. Her grip on the armrest relaxed and her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Garrus could only look on as the yellow brands of her eyes, which had glowed with such joy earlier, were snuffed out again, their cast returning to their usual gray dullness. When the seizure subsided, her face relaxed into a vacant, doll-like mask.
"I…I'm sorry. I seem to have forgotten your name, young man," she said in a small child's voice. "What was it again?"
"That's alright. You can just call me General."
"Forgive me, General," she said with a meek smile.
Garrus tried to his best to smile back, but clods of nausea had wormed their way up from his gut and into his head, pinching and pressing his insides until they were soiled with the sickly feeling.
"How, how do I turn this off? The light is hurting my eyes." Agitated, his mother probed the camera over and over so he could only see the blurry pad of his mother's finger filling the display.
"Here, Mrs. Vakarian, let me do that for you. Why don't you have a seat on the bed, it's nice and comfortable there," said Tulia. She helped his mother to stand, then led her off-camera before returning to speak with Garrus. "I'm sorry, Mr. Vakarian, your mother isn't feeling well right now. Maybe we can try again when she's a little better?"
"I'm not working for the next few days. You can contact me anytime."
"Of course." She glanced in his mother's direction, then back at Garrus. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Thank you for trying, Tulia."
She bowed her head. "I'll contact you if anything changes. Goodbye, Mr. Vakarian."
"Goodbye."
The feed blinked away. The default screen hummed blue, the cold, lifeless color making Garrus feel sicker than before. He logged out of the terminal and stumbled into the hallway. Shepard was standing at the window with a mug of something hot, looking out at something he couldn't see. Letting out a pointed huff, he leaned a shoulder against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Garrus!" Shepard was startled to see him at the end of the hallway. "Are you feeling ok? You look a little…" She set her mug down and rushed to his side.
"Yeah, yeah…it's just that time. I'm going outside, I'll be right back."
"Time?" She put her hand on his arm. "Ah…"
He was grateful that she understood he ins and outs of turian biology; it meant he didn't need to take the time to explain.
"Then I'll be right here if you need anything. Do you need help to the door?"
"No, I'm good. I only needed a moment."
Garrus shuffled to the foyer. Not bothering to put his boots on, he went outside in his bare feet.
Garrus walked a good fifty meters from the house and into the stand of pines at the rear of the property, out of view from any windows or doors; the last thing he wanted was for the love of his life to see him puking rocks into the idyllic flower bed of the garden.
He shoved a hand against a sturdy trunk as his stomach rolled in violent waves. Even under the shade of the canopy, the brilliance of the world around him hurt his eyes, making the waves rise and fall faster than before. Then the musky smell of the damp earth hit his nose. He began to heave as his hands came to his thighs, and the first couple of rocks made their way up, falling to the ground and sinking into the carpet of pine straw. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. The process was never a pretty one—and this was the worst he'd ever had it—but at least it was almost over.
After a few deep breaths to recover, he glanced up from his hunched stance. Framed by two trees, a lone mule deer was feeding on the leaves of a low shrub; its large oval ears were pointed back as its stubby tail whisked across its backside. Garrus heaved again, this time louder, and brought up the remaining stones. The deer's head shot up. Its ears pricked upright, then swiveled toward him. High alert. He didn't need knowledge of Earth animals to understand; turians were carnivores after all, and primary signs of vigilance transcended boundaries between species. He stared back at the deer, and the two remained locked in a silent stand-off.
"Boo!" he said playfully as his head lurched forward.
The deer flinched. Eyes wide and star-filled, it turned tail, bounding away into the cluster of pines further up the hill. Garrus, amused, snapped his mandibles as he watched it disappear. He was feeling much better now that the stones had finally come up, and soon he would regain some of the appetite he'd lost. He'd need to remember to replace the stones before supper.
As he turned back to the house, a stiff breeze sent an eddy of brittle leaves shivering across his path. Their papery crackle nearly drowned out the chime of his omnitool. He stopped in his tracks, just beyond the trees. It was a message from Primarch Victus:
Garrus -
I've just heard from Emissary Cyprian. Talks with the Galactic Relief Fund haven't been in our favor. We must secure additional loans to move forward with rebuilding plans. Any further delay will hamper peacekeeping efforts, or worse, risk the goodwill of our citizens.
The asari representatives are currently at the Citadel. I request you join Emissary Cyprian for their last meeting tomorrow. The presence of someone high up in the Hierarchy might give them some reassurance. At the very least, you can wield your influence.
Urdnot Wrex will be arriving in Cipritine shortly. He says he has a proposal he would like to speak about in person. I think you know what this might be regarding.
Please apologize on my behalf. And if the asari representatives ask about me, feel free to share the information above without hesitation if it will help you.
I'm entrusting you with this crucial matter.
Primarch Victus
Garrus read the message again to make sure he hadn't missed something. What could he accomplish that the emissary hadn't already? What was Victus playing at? And what did Wrex want? He certainly hadn't said anything to him.
He headed back to the house, and made sure to wipe his feet well before going inside.
"Hey, you feeling any better?" Shepard asked as he stepped through the door. She was sitting at the table with her portable terminal open to the mail application.
"Much. Thanks," he said from the foyer. "Apologies, I've got dirty feet. Felt so bad I didn't even put my boots on."
"I noticed."
"I'll be right back, just going to wash off."
When Garrus returned, Shepard was busy replying to something, her fingers flying over the keys like busy insects.
"Heated argument over the extranet?"
"What?" she asked, distracted.
"Just teasing." He threw open one of the kitchen cupboards and scanned the shelves for the ration bars he'd brought along for the trip.
"Sorry, I'm replying to Dusty. The co-op is asking for my help with something. I'm almost done." Shepard finished writing her last sentence, then shut her terminal down. "You know, some people might think of rural folks as being quiet, but in my experience, they can be pretty chatty once you get them going."
"Does that include you, then?" He found the last bar and snatched it from the cupboard.
Shepard rolled her eyes. "I haven't been 'rural' since 2170."
"By the way, I wanted to apologize." Garrus lowered himself onto the adjacent seat. "I'm sorry if you overheard what my mom said earlier. She doesn't actually hate humans. She was a lot more open minded before all of this. But with her illness progressing this far, she's said some pretty awful things. The doctors warned us this would happen, but I wasn't prepared for what that really meant. I'm embarrassed you had to hear that."
"Don't be. I'm not upset. Besides, I've heard much worse."
"I know. But it's different coming from her."
"It doesn't change anything for me."
"That's a relief to hear." He put his hand on hers and squeezed before letting go. "Oh, the other thing…the Primarch just asked me to go to the Citadel tomorrow. The Hierarchy is negotiating for more loans, but the asari reps for the GRF are holding up the whole damn thing. He wants me to 'wield my influence', whatever the hell that means."
Shepard cracked a smile. "I think that's Victus code for 'be a tough guy'."
"Heh. You're making me look bad here, Shepard." Leaning back, he draped his arm around the back of her chair."You know, sometimes I think you'd make a much better right hand than me." He flicked his mandibles. "Scratch that—I know you would. Looking for a job?"
"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I cede the position to you, General. I'm done with politics."
"Damn, thought I could get away with that."
He wasn't kidding. If there had been a way to bring her into the fold, he was convinced she would've done of a hell of a job on Palaven. But he was thankful she wasn't there. Impossible decisions, and the specter of death haunting every corner—no, not for Shepard. Earth was good for her. She'd finally snagged her scrap of peace, and she deserved to treasure it for as long as she could, even if it was without him. He, on the other hand, still had a long way to travel before settling down.
"Look, I know we don't have a lot of time, and I hate to leave even for a day, but my people need this win, and I need to be the one to deliver it. Without the money, trying to win back New Aeris and the rogue colonies will be pointless. Deadly, even."
"Not an opportunity you want slipping from your hands."
"No." Garrus unwrapped his ration bar. "It's really too bad the apartment's gone. We could have stopped by. You know, for old time's sake."
"That's alright, I've got plenty of work to do around here." She held her arms up high and gave her back a good stretch. "I've gotta get the harvester fixed or I'm gonna be SOL after you leave."
"S-O-L? Sol?"
"Shit out of luck."
"Ahhh. Now that's one I've heard before." Garrus took a bite from the bar, grateful to feel normal once more.
It had taken five or six tries before Shepard was able to get the ancient harvester down to the service road. The machine had been sitting dusty and disused for years; it was unserviced and had at least three malfunctioning arms, at least from what she could see. If Tali were around, she'd have been able to fix it in her sleep. It was a miracle Shepard had even gotten it out of the building.
"What the hell…" Frustrated, Shepard poked at the faulty cooling fan. The bolts holding down the cover had rusted in place, making it impossible check the motor. "Now what?"
She buttoned up her overshirt, then rolled the cuffs down to her wrists, tugging at the ends to seal herself from the wind that had kicked up a gusty tantrum. The briskness was putting her in the mood for coffee number three. She had just decided to abandon her trouble for the morning when a voice croaked behind her, "Katie's got you operating that old thing?"
Startled, she spun around to see Rear Admiral Ly standing with her arms crossed, the brim of a large hat encircling her head like the rings of Saturn. The hat shaded her finely wrinkled face but could not obscure her keen and discerning eyes. Charlie, who panted softly at her side, scampered to Shepard as soon as she looked his way. Shepard smiled and gave him a pat. He brushed against her side and left a generous mat of long, black fur clinging to her leg.
"Charlie, don't be rude." Rear Admiral Ly motioned to call him back. He shook himself, letting a tornado of fur fly in all directions. "Sorry, it's shedding season. We were just out for a walk, thought I'd swing by to say hello. We never did get to have our visit."
"You're welcome to stay. I'm just trying to get this thing down to the trees." Shepard slapped one of the harvester's wheel wells. "Got it off the property, but that's about it. Can't seem to find the problem—this tech is before my time."
"Say, Commander, need a hand?"
It would have been strange to ask for the Rear Admiral's help, but she offered first, which made Shepard feel less awkward. She scratched at the back of her head. "If you aren't busy? I've never worked with this model before."
"Can't say I'm surprised. You're right, this thing is definitely before your time," she said matter-of-factly. "I can spare an hour."
"I already tried the manual, but the only version I could find was missing the error codes."
Stepping slowly around the perimeter of the machine, Rear Admiral Ly gave each part a cursory inspection. Charlie followed at her heels. "Hmm…looks like you need to replace to the servos on the back arms, at the very least. And you'll need new suction cups. They're going to drop the fruit if you leave them like that."
"There isn't much to harvest, but still…this would be a lot easier with drones."
"Hard to come by those, especially around here. Everything was re-purposed for the war. I'd lend you mine if I had some."
Shepard shielded her eyes from the long rays of the sun. "I noticed you still do a lot of your work manually. Doesn't that take too long?"
"I do. And it does. But it depends. Some varieties are more delicate than others. Don't wanna break the skins when you're making good wine. Hands are best for gentle harvesting." Rear Admiral Ly shook her hand in the air for emphasis. "I've got some spare servos, if you like. They should fit your machine. And we'll need to open up the onboard computer while we're at it. Would you mind waiting? I just need to pop into the maintenance building. Charlie can keep you company."
"Really? That would be fantastic."
The Rear Admiral tugged at the brim of her hat, holding it fast against the wind. "No problem, Commander. I'll be right back. You stay here Charlie." She gave him the signal to 'stay' as she turned back in the direction of the vineyard.
Vigilant, Charlie didn't move a muscle as he watched her disappear around the bend. The moment she was out of sight, his body eased, and he sat at Shepard's side. She felt like a child standing next to the big, black dog. His broad, ball-shaped head came up past her waist, and his legs were thicker than her arms. Looking down, she gasped, and squatted to place an outstretched hand above the ground.
"Your paws—they're as big as my hand…"
His gaze followed her hand, and the drool from his loose jowls dangled toward the ground in ropy strings but never fell.
Shepard grimaced. "I was thinking of inviting you inside, but maybe it's better for us to wait here, hmm?" She stood up again and gazed out past the orchard and across the undisturbed water. Traffic on the lake had grown a lot quieter now that the weather had cooled. The boats had been docked, the tourists had gone home, and the locals had put their swimsuits and beach towels away until next summer. The sudden emptiness of the lake made the orchard feel lonesome and remote.
Several minutes passed as she paced up and down the side of the road. When she tired of pacing, she parked herself on a large boulder that marked the end of the path to the house. Charlie followed, then circled several times before collapsing at her feet. She swore she'd heard him say 'harumph' as he did it.
"Maybe I should have taken Garrus up on his offer to go to the Citadel, huh?" She looked down. "Then again…not sure I want the attention." The last time she was there, she had nearly ended her own career. And an innocent person's life.
She stroked the dog along his back. "Nah, I'm better off here with you, Charlie. Can't get into trouble hanging out with you, can I?" As she pulled her hand away, downy wisps of his coat caught between her fingers. She shook the fur from her hand. "And no awkward run-ins with old colleagues either. 'Oh, Shepard, what are you doing these days? I haven't seen you in forever! Did you retire? I thought you'd be a rear admiral by now! You're taking a sabbatical? How nice! You deserve it!'" She blew her bangs away with a sharp puff of air. "Forget it."
Charlie sniffed at her hand, then peered up with his dark eyes as more slobber fled his mouth.
Shepard smiled. "It's so nice talking to you, you're such a good listener."
Sitting up with a start, he perked his ears forward. The familiar sound of crushed gravel under foot had caught his attention.
"Be careful, Commander, that becomes a bad habit after a while." Jillian had returned, hobbling, with a full toolkit in hand and a box of servomotors under her arm.
"Oh, here, let me take that," Shepard said, rushing over to take the box from her.
"Please, if I were that frail I wouldn't be running a vineyard." She set the toolbox next to the harvester and pulled down her sun hat, letting it drape over her upper back. "Now let's see if we can't figure out what's going on with this thing."
The Rear Admiral removed the housing for the onboard computer and switched it on. "Just running diagnostics. It'll take a minute."
Shepard watched as she bent down and rummaged through the disordered tool box, combing through the dregs at the bottom with her bony fingers. The backs of her hands were covered in deep scarring—a lace-like lattice of thickened tissue, almost like terrible burns—and Shepard couldn't help but stare. It wasn't often you saw people with such obvious scars. Long buried memories worked their way back to the surface. One in particular broke free first: Shepard's face, or what she thought was her face, staring back at her in the mirror of the captain's quarters, and the fresh cybernetic scars blazing red across her forehead and cheeks like crags of molten earth—land burned and reshaped into something still frangible and unfamiliar.
Without looking up, Rear Admiral Ly had already anticipated the question Shepard didn't ask. "You're wondering about my hands, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry, Rear Admiral, I didn't meant to be rude."
"Please, just call me Jillian," she said over her shoulder,"It's been a long time since I was in the military," and fished out a small module from her kit.
"You know, you spoke at my graduation on Arcturus. I was so moved by your story of persevering through the ranks—you never took crap from anyone. You were an inspiration to young women like me."
Jillian gave an amused scoff. "I hear that a lot. I'm not sure why, if I'm being honest. But to each their own." Bringing the module to eye level, she squinted and pressed her lips into a line. "I actually did a lot of awful things, but no one ever hears about that part."
"I understand that well."
"Thought you might." Jillian stood up to check the readout on the harvester's display, then shut the system down. "So who's the turian? The one I saw you with the other night?"
Shepard crossed her arms and leaned a shoulder against the harvester."Garrus Vakarian—he's a general in the Hierarchy. We served together during the war. And before that too."
"Your boy toy?"
"Yeah, something like that." Nearly pinching a thumb and finger together, she added, "Maybe a smidge more serious."
"So it's love, then?" Jillian asked, not missing a beat. "We've come a long way from 'skull face', haven't we? When I was younger, there was no way a soldier would be caught dead dating a non-human." She pulled a wrench from the box and pointed it at Shepard. "Unless, maybe, they were asari. Somehow that was okay."
"It's—"
"It's the tits, yes."
Shepard chortled. Rear Admiral Ly always had a reputation for shooting straight from the the hip.
"And of course our start with the Hierarchy wasn't the most peaceful." Holding the wrench to an access panel, she cranked it hard to remove one of the nubby, worn-out fasteners."I was actually part of the force that destroyed the ships policing Relay 314."
"I remember you speaking about that."
"You don't think your General will be too upset if he hears about that, do you?"
"He hasn't made a peep about Hackett, and Hackett served in the First Contact War." She tilted her head against the harvester. "Kind of water under the bridge at this point."
"It's amazing, when you think about it. It's only been, what, thirty odd years? But of course, that feels like a lifetime ago after all that's happened." The last fastener popped off and Jillian removed the panel to inspect the circuitry inside.
Was it only that long? Jillian was right; time had stretched and limped along in all the wrong places. Within her own lifetime, Shepard had seen first contact, the opening of the relays, humans on the Citadel, and human settlements on other planets. And that was to say nothing of cross-species relationships or galactic war.
Across the road, the crisp rustle of vegetation broke the moment's silence. Charlie, who had been enjoying a pleasant sit in the sun, wrested his enormous body from the ground. As he veered into the bushes, he barked several times, and his robust, guttural warning seemed to boom through the entire valley. Two small deer emerged, then fled up the road toward the vineyard. Looking proud he had flushed them out, Charlie wagged his bushy tail in wide, happy arcs. Jillian glanced over and shook her head as he trotted back over.
"So what made you leave the Alliance?" asked Shepard. "With a record like yours, you could have made it all the way to Admiral."
"The nice reason?" Jillian carefully placed the wrench back into the box. "I needed to care for my son, Gregory."
"And the not nice reason?"
"I didn't want to be an admiral." Grunting, Jillian yanked the old, burnt out module out from the harvester and dropped it to the ground. "I didn't really see the point in staying. By the time I made rear admiral, it was getting harder to justify some of the decisions I was making. And the pressure from the politicians and the higher ups…I didn't want to raise my son with all of that on my conscience." She reached for the spare module and popped it into place.
"Seems like an odd choice, then, to speak at an Alliance graduation." Maybe it sounded rude to say, but Jillian didn't seem like the type to care.
"It was my son's idea. They invited me, and I was going to turn them down, but he insisted I go. He said if I didn't, they'd choose some old blowhard instead." She rolled her eyes as she scoured the box for some new fasteners. "Heh, Gregory sure knew how to push my buttons."
The sharp cry of a raven, sitting low in the tree above, rudely interrupted their conversation. The bird glared down, cocking its head at an angle to get a good look at the two women.
"What's your son doing now?"
Jillian's brow wrinkled, and she let out a faint sigh. "Gregory died defending the hospital he worked in—New York City. The Reapers had descended and the attack was so sudden…" The deep lines around her mouth grew deeper as she struggled to control her strangled voice. "The staff held out for a whole day before the hospital fell."
A simple "I'm sorry," was all Shepard could muster in reply. The raven cried out again—this time a piercing shriek—and she glared back at it.
Stories of death—brave, defiant, or otherwise—were still not easy to hear. But Shepard never closed her heart to them. It had become a compulsion to plant their memory in hers: a forest of lives, each specimen marked with its name; a place where she walked at night before she slept; where the boundary between dead and alive wasn't a line or a gate or a river, but a network of roots that sometimes touched or intertwined, communicating across distance and time; a place where she could live with the mistakes she had made along the way.
Jillian looked up and offered a sympathetic smile. "Everyone lost someone. I know you're no stranger to loss, Commander."
"Be that as it may, it's cold comfort to a grieving mother."
"It's what we have. And we live on. They live on." She tapped at the side of her head before plucking out the remaining fasteners.
As Jillian worked to put the access panel back in place, Shepard turned her attention to Charlie, who was keeping watch along the road. The raven had also turned its attention the dog, mocking him with its shrill shrieking as it hopped from branch to branch, far out of reach of the confused Newfie.
Jillian dusted her hands off and stood up. "Now, enough wallowing. What do you say we get this thing started?" Craning her neck to see the display, she switched the onboard computer back on and froze as she waited for it to cycle through. "That sensory module of yours was burnt to a crisp, by the way. It's a miracle you got it down here without further damage. Are you okay to do the servos yourself?"
"I can handle that much," said Shepard. "Those haven't changed much in the last thirty years."
After a whir and a pop, the harvester hummed back to life. "Look at that—I've still got what it takes!" Jillian playfully dusted off her shoulder."I plan on living a long time yet. Need to make myself useful, don't I?"
"You don't need to be useful, Jillian."
She shut the harvester down again. "Speaking of living, Commander—how long are you planning on doing this…thing?" Her arms opened wide to toward the orchard below.
"I don't know, I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead. Just trying to get back on my feet, you know?"
"And what about the General? Any plans with your boy toy?"
Shepard poised herself on the flat face of the boulder. "He's a busy man."
"Getting an entire civilization back on its feet, no doubt. I don't envy him."
"Me either."
"Can't be easy."
"It isn't," she sighed. "He holds a high position—they depend on him for a lot."
"No, that's not what I mean."
"What do you mean, then?"
"Mmm…you being here, him being there…doing his turian thing."
"Ah." Shepard dug a heel into the ground and stared at the toe of her shoe. "I try not to think about it too much. Or at least, I treat it like being deployed. There are plenty of couples who spend months at a time apart and—"
"Oh, certainly. My ex-husband and I often would go weeks without seeing one another."
A concerned expression fell over Shepard's face.
"Oh no, that isn't why we divorced. We divorced because he was a serial cheater. A liar, if you will. A woman in every port like a cliche Blasto vid."
Shepard snorted despite herself.
"Anyway, you were saying…"
"Just that I have to think of it that way. Like we're both on assignment. Because if I don't—it doesn't work. I get stuck." She was desperate to confess that it made her feel alone, but that sounded too self-pitying. She chose to be here, to live this temporary life outside of the Alliance, in hopes she could return. Would she be able to return?
Jillian didn't say a word as she slowly closed the toolbox, her mouth zipped tight. "I wish you both the best, truly. A relationship like yours isn't for the weak. But I think if anyone can handle it, it's you."
Shepard folded her hands together in her lap. "Fighting a war and navigating love aren't really the same though."
"Aren't they?"
"'All's fair in love and war?'" Her thumbs twiddled around each other as she mulled over the tired words. "I always thought that was a weird saying. There's nothing fair about either."
"I know which one I prefer." Sidling up to Shepard, Jillian leaned against the boulder .
"As twisted as it sounds, I owe my love to war. But loving in a time of peace…I'm not sure what that's like yet."
"It's not all that different, Commander. Less adrenaline. More mundane worries. More time for excellent sex."
Shepard chuckled. "I can only hope for as much."
