2. RESUME
"Commander! C'mere, you gotta see this," Joker crowed from the cockpit as they stomped their way out of decontamination. "You're like— I don't even know. Half Rambo, half Ripley. All badass."
"Half who? What?" Shepard leaned over his chair.
"Old Earth vids. Doesn't matter." He glanced up at her. "Oh, and uh, pretty crazy running into Alenko, huh? All things considered, I think the conversation went better with the Praetorian."
Shepard shot him a quelling look. "Aren't you supposed to be showing me something?"
"Right you are, Commander." He pressed a button and a grainy, monochrome video clip stuttered into motion. Judging from the angle (high), the position (distant), and the giant rifle barrel in the bottom of the frame, it had to be the feed from Garrus's visor.
Joker tapped the interface. "Here's where it gets good."
She watched. A tiny armored human strode out into the distant field, head held high, alien gun held ready. An enormous glowing monster floated steadily towards her. The little human planted herself directly in its path.
It looked like something out of a superhero cartoon. The camera angle shifted suddenly— video Garrus had bolted upright.
"SHEPARD!" His horrified voice crackled through the speakers. Joker turned the volume down.
The tiny human and the monster squared off and unleashed fiery hell upon each other.
One second. Two seconds. Lightning crackled between them. The camera frame swayed and shook as video Garrus sank back down into a crouch, loaded a fresh clip, and fired a shot, then did it again, and again.
Beside her, real-life Garrus twitched. "Somehow, it's even more gut-wrenching watching it like this." Massani just laughed.
Three seconds. The tiny human stepped forward, still firing. The monster thrashed its spidery limbs and fell to pieces. Joker let out a whoop, raising his arms in the air.
Video Garrus exhaled shakily and straightened. Joker flicked his thumb on the keyboard, and the image froze.
Shepard grinned up at real-life Garrus. "Thanks for the fire support, buddy."
He blinked at her slowly, deliberately: a turian eye roll. "Yeah, well. I think I can spare a little ammo for a good cause. Like keeping your fragile human ass alive."
"Hah." She punched him in the arm. "I'm invincible."
He shot her an unreadable look.
"What?"
Joker spun around in his chair. "So, wanna see it agai— Holy shit, Shepard, look at your armor!"
She looked. Her breastplate had warped and melted in the intense heat. There was a fist-sized circle in the center, over her heart, where the material had turned as thin and transparent as glass.
She tapped it lightly with a gloved fingertip. A spiderweb of cracks laced out from her finger. Chips of paper-thin ceramic broke off and clinked down onto the deck. She poked her finger through the hole, bemused.
"Bloody hell. An instant longer and you'd have bit it," Massani said, an eyebrow raised. "You got the devil's own luck."
"Nah. Devil's got nothing on Shepard," Joker said.
Shepard shrugged, trying for casual bravado. That hole in her heart had sent that icy fear crawling up her back again: This wasn't real. This wasn't her. She was burned up and breathing dirt on Horizon. She was frozen and floating among the broken bones of the Normandy.
A ghost had taken her place on this strange, shiny ship.
"Hell of a trophy," Massani said, nodding at her breastplate. "You should hang that thing up on your wall."
Shepard looked down again. Her hand was still raised, hovering over her unprotected heart. Garrus watched her, his bandaged face expressionless.
Joker just leaned back in his chair and grinned up at them. The new Normandy's engines thrummed beneath her feet. Stars streaked past the viewscreen.
Almost like old times. If you squinted.
...Fuck it, she thought. At least I'm a ghost with a gun.
She turned towards Massani and lifted an eyebrow. "Interior decorating advice? From a merc?"
"Won't even charge," he drawled. "That was damn impressive down there. Thought you'd lost it completely for a moment. Feels good to be wrong."
"Thanks." Shepard flashed him a toothy smile. "Feels good to be alive."
"Grab your guns," she announced the next morning, as she barged in through the battery doors. "We're going groundside with Taylor. Checking out a distress signal."
"Hello to you too, Shepard," Garrus said without turning around. His talons clicked over his haptic display.
She cocked her head. "Okay. Hi, Garrus. How are you?"
He flicked a mandible at her. "Oh, you know, the usual. Too good for cover. Convinced of my own immortality. Prone to suicidal rushes into enemy fire."
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the battery wall. "You mad about yesterday?"
"Yeah. I am."
She blinked. She hadn't expected him to admit it. "...Well, it worked."
He turned around finally, leaned back against his console. His eyes dropped down to her chest. "It almost didn't."
Shepard glanced down at her shiny new breastplate, fresh from the fabricator. She thumped it with her fist. "I'm fine. See?"
"It was a stupid risk," he growled, his good mandible flaring out again. "We would have had that thing nailed to the wall, if you had just waited another thirty seconds."
She sighed. "Garrus, it was getting too close. I didn't want to hang around and let it surprise us with something even nastier than that biotic knockdown." She unfolded her arms, leaned in towards him. "Sometimes it's worth taking a little fire to finish things quick."
He met her eyes, unmoved. "How did you know you would finish it before it finished you?"
She frowned. "I just— did. It was on the edge. I could feel it."
He tilted his head to one side.
"What," she said.
"Not really helping your case against the psychic Cerberus brain chip theory."
She rolled her eyes. "Take it up with Lawson."
"I might," he said darkly, but he stood up and reached for his rifle anyway.
2175 Aeia
Mechs. Why was it always goddamn mechs? Shepard crouched behind the barrier and winced at the singe marks on her armor. The exhaust fans on her shield generator whined in protest.
"So," Garrus drawled over the comm. "Is catching rockets face-first something humans like to do for fun? Or is it more of a competitive thing?"
Shepard shot an annoyed look over her shoulder, knowing it'd hit him at 50x magnification in scope.
"Competitive, then. You know, you could be in the big leagues, Shepard. I don't think any of them have gotten past you so far."
Yeah, all right, her rhythm was a little off. Didn't matter. Mordin had been tinkering with her gear.
And in any case, she'd survive.
"Sweet of you to notice, Vakarian," she purred into her comm. "I was just trying to beat your all-time high score."
He just laughed, the ass. She made a particularly filthy Batarian hand gesture at him behind her back, and leaned out to check the field. The YMIR was out of range now, having shifted behind a palm tree to reload or recharge or whatever the hell it was doing. She hurled a tech Overload into the cluster of LOKIs nearby. The mechs reeled. Behind her, Garrus lined himself up and knocked out two with one shot.
"Showoff."
"You love it."
"Glad you two are having fun over there," Taylor said, voice strained.
Shepard winced. Taylor was definitely having the least fun out of all of them. She popped her head out again to check on him: he was further up, picking off some feral, brain-scrambled humans with well-placed shotgun blasts. He ducked behind a crate to reload just as the YMIR lumbered back out into the field. It paused, head swiveling.
"Get out of there, Taylor. It's locking on to you." Shepard unloaded a clip into the YMIR's well-shielded head. It barely even drew the thing's attention. Shit. She'd be better off throwing rocks.
"Getting," Taylor replied, and jogged backwards towards their position, firing incendiary bursts at the YMIR.
"Watch your six," Garrus yelled, right before Taylor tripped over a wounded hunter that had been crouching in the grass, and went down.
Fuck. Shepard touched her fingers to her armor-plated heart, and took off running.
"Shepard—" Garrus sounded more resigned than angry.
She spared a moment to feel bad for him. He'd been rock-fucking-steady through everything. Saren, Sovereign, Cerberus. He deserved better than a half-psychotic reanimated corpse for a CO.
But, well, not everybody got what they deserved. "Garrus, stay put and keep shooting. Toss in an Overload if you can manage from that distance. I'm going to try to flank and draw the mech off him."
Taylor was a deft hand at close quarters combat, but the feral hunter kicked and thrashed like a frightened animal. A flailing elbow cracked across Taylor's face, stunning him.
The YMIR paused in its approach, looked down at the two men. It shifted its weight back, raised a shiny white arm. Shepard swore and changed course, powering up her tech armor.
The YMIR's rocket launcher unfolded. Shepard stepped directly in front of it, arms open for its embrace.
"Spirits give me strength," Garrus muttered in her ear.
The rocket whined through the air, crashed into her chest. Her tech armor exploded. She staggered. The noise was unbelievable.
Dimly, she saw the YMIR recovering its balance. One of Garrus's bullets chipped a piece off its faceplate as it turned around. She heard a shotgun blast behind her, followed by a wet thump and splatter. The remains of the hunter.
"Taylor, fall back," she said.
"Commander, your shields are down!"
"So are yours. MOVE!"
The YMIR tilted its head down to look at her. Another rifle round chunked into its skull, and was ignored. Its machine gun unfolded and and clicked into position.
She stood her ground until she heard Taylor start running, and then dove sideways. Bullets ripped into the turf where she'd been standing.
"Taylor, stay back until your shields recharge." She skirted around a crate, keeping one wary eye on the YMIR, the other on Taylor's status in her HUD. "When you're ready, I'll let you cut in for a dance."
"Roger that." Taylor sounded a little put out. He was a good soldier, but he wasn't half as bulletproof as he thought he was. They'd have to have a talk later.
Her crate disintegrated under a hail of bullets. Shepard threw herself behind a cluster of palm trees and fired off a Warp. The YMIR whirred and clomped towards her, crushing branches under its feet. She launched herself from the trees and took off for the far eastern end of the field.
"If only you were as good at shooting as you are at running, Shepard," Garrus rumbled, "we wouldn't keep finding ourselves in these situations."
"Remind me to kick your ass when we get back to the ship, Vakarian."
She fired another Warp behind her without looking to see if it connected. Bullets thudded into the ground behind her feet. She threw herself behind another tree and gasped for breath.
It was quiet. Had the YMIR stopped? Shepard cast an impatient glance at her shield charge meter. She just had to hold out for a little longer, regroup her team, reload her gun.
Her radar showed a stationary red blip just north of her position. Now she was picking up four more in an unmoving line at the eastern edge.
Taylor and Garrus were out of range. She frowned. An ambush? What was going on? Had the mech stopped targeting her? "Status."
"Holding," Garrus said. "It went into the trees after you, and I can't get a clean shot from here. Swing back north-west."
"Just move to a better position, you whiner."
"Negative. There's no more cover." An amused note crept into his voice. "The mech blew everything else up while it was chasing you around. I suppose you were a little distracted at the time."
"Yeah, well." Her shields and tech armor thrummed back to life. Shepard glanced around for an escape route.
"I'll get it moving. Coming up on your wing, Shepard," Taylor said.
"No, hold position. Contacts—" Shepard began, but then she heard the whirr-chunk of the YMIR reacting to his presence. The four red blips on her radar scattered and flowed out around them.
Oh fuck. They weren't mechs, they were hunters. Twisted by the toxic planet, stripped of all but the basest instincts. Alone, they weren't much to worry about, but in packs they were terrifying. Between them and the YMIR—
"Taylor, get down," she shouted, rushing out from her cover.
"Commande—" He didn't even finish the word before the crossfire ripped through his body.
God fucking damnit. She grit her teeth and fell back at an angle, keeping the hunters in between her and the YMIR. She poured bullets into the nearest hunter until he dropped, slapped in a fresh heat sink, and trained her sights on the next one. Her tech armor rippled under their rifle fire. "Taylor's down."
"I'm coming for you, Shepard. Just hang on." Garrus's breath came in harsh pants over the comm as he sprinted over the killing field.
They both knew he wouldn't get there fast enough.
Her tech armor burst and knocked the hunters back, buying her a precious half-second to load a fresh clip. She was still putting holes into the skull of the last one when her shields failed.
The feral human had decayed beyond the point of survival instinct, and kept shooting even as he collapsed. The first few bullets dissipated harmlessly into her plate armor. The next few perforated her lungs. Then the YMIR raised its rocket launcher.
The crash was much louder this time.
She staggered, fell to her knees, and then to the ground.
There really was an awful lot of blood inside a human body.
"Shepard!"
She looked up hazily at Garrus. He was crouching behind a panel of corrugated metal, much, much too far away. He'd get slaughtered the second he stepped out to help her. She could see that he desperately wanted to do it anyway.
I'm sorry, she mouthed.
The curse of the sniper: when things went to shit, they were always the last ones left alive.
A cruel reversal of Omega. There was nothing he could do but watch her bleed.
The barrier came into view around the curve of the footpath. Shepard narrowed her eyes, and held up a fist. Taylor and Garrus stopped and looked at her.
"Let's talk strategy for a second. Multiple contacts up ahead."
"There are? I don't see anything yet." Taylor tapped on his helmet's HUD.
She ignored him. "Garrus, hold position there. Unleash hell on the YMIR when it comes into view. Taylor, switch to your Carnifex. I want you glued to my side. Don't let them flank. Got it?" She didn't bother waiting for a response. "Move out."
"Affirmative," Garrus said, his expression neutral.
"An YMIR? The hell is wrong with my radar?" Taylor muttered, falling in beside her. He collapsed his shotgun with one hand, the other still tinkering with his display. "Are you seeing all this, Vakarian?"
Shepard tensed, and flicked a glance at him.
"Ah, incoming on your two," Garrus said instead. Taylor snapped into a combat stance.
"Let's get it done." Shepard sunk into cover, and softened up the nearest hunter with a Warp. Taylor needed no prompting; he leaned out right on cue and filled it full of holes. They moved on to the next one, and the next. Garrus methodically picked off the LOKIs from the back.
By the time the YMIR came crunching around the corner, the field was almost entirely clear. Shepard hummed to herself as they whittled away at the mech's shielding.
"Having fun, Commander?" Taylor said pointedly.
She was, actually. Was it wrong?
Taylor's father had turned a tropical paradise into a grotesque, exploitative, Hobbesian mess. He'd built his reign upon the backs of his crew, and broken them in the process. The few that survived had been reduced to animals. Shells of their former selves.
Callous disregard for the rights, the minds, and lives of others. It was just like every Cerberus base she'd ever hacked or shot her way into. It was appalling.
But it didn't affect her. She was never surprised by the depths that sentient life could sink to. Shepard had learned long, long ago to be prepared for the very worst from everyone she met, to deliver swift punishment when necessary, and to move on without a second thought.
Taylor was pissed off, which meant that he was still innocent. She was startled to realize she wanted to help him stay that way.
She whipped an Overload at the YMIR. "Jacob— if there's anything I've learned in this screwed-up galaxy, it's that you can't control what other people do. But you can control how you respond."
Garrus made a quiet surprised noise into the comm.
She ignored him and leaned out to pepper the YMIR's shields with her SMG. "And sometimes, laughter is the only sane response."
Jacob looked thoughtful.
Four headshots, some pistol fire and a Warp or two later, the YMIR was done. Without the behemoth to back them up, the remaining hunters were just cleanup work. She broke off, ignoring Garrus's protest, crept around the back of the hunters' hiding spot, and slaughtered all four before Jacob even realized they were there.
The universe could be an awfully shitty place, and her number one rule was to never let things get personal. But shooting her squad's murderers in the head one-by-one, at point-blank range, was— perhaps— a little bit cathartic.
Captain Taylor offered them an airy apology for the mechs, pandered and rationalized and lied through his teeth about everything else. The family resemblance to his son was striking. And disturbing.
She and Garrus snapped to high alert when Jacob raised his gun against his father, but he just stood there for a long moment before lowering it again.
Jacob shook his head wearily. "...I don't even know who you are."
Garrus caught her eye, and gestured. Human-shaped shadows skulked through the brush beyond the clearing.
She stepped forward and put a hand on Jacob's shoulder. Gave his father a level stare. "Well, Acting Captain Taylor, I can't say it's been a pleasure. The Alliance will be sending ships and medical support for your crew. In the meantime..."
She glanced at Jacob, considering.
The good soldier. His face was perfectly neutral. She could see in his tense back, his tight fists, how much it was costing him.
He deserved better.
"I can see you're a busy man, Captain," she said. "We'll leave you to your work."
Jacob fists clenched, but he nodded. "Let's get out of here."
"Now wait," Taylor stammered, reaching out. "Son. You have to take me with you."
Jacob yanked his hand away. "You don't get to call me that! Not anymore."
"I can't wait for another ship. Please! You don't know what they'll do to me!"
The hunters prowled behind the fence, eyes hungry, teeth bared.
"I think we have an idea," Garrus said.
Jacob turned his back on Captain Taylor, and the three of them walked away to meet the Normandy.
She let herself into the battery.
Garrus didn't turn around from his console. "How's he doing?"
"He'll be okay. Jacob's a tough guy."
"So, it's 'Jacob' now," he said.
Shepard shrugged. "There were two Taylors down there. Didn't want it to get confusing. Plus..." She leaned back against the wall. "Kinda hard to walk side-by-side with someone through their own personal hell, and then keep calling them by their last name."
"Makes perfect sense." An exquisitely judged pause. "Shepard."
She folded her arms. "I said personal hell. Sorry, Garrus, regular hell doesn't qualify. Even if you get extra credit for doing it twice."
There was a long silence. The room was warm and quiet. He'd left the lights off, and the walls were bathed in the faint orange glow of his console.
She looked at his back, trying to remember when it was that she'd finally stopped calling him Vakarian.
"Dr. Saleon," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "...I'd finally hunted him down. And when we were there on his ship, standing face-to-face, you wouldn't let me kill him."
"Mind reader," she accused.
He turned his head fractionally, regarding her out of the corner of one pale blue eye. "It's been a while, but I think I can recall the gist of the conversation we had." He tapped a long finger against his chin. "Something about... how you can't control how others act, but you can control how you respond. Sound familiar?"
She grinned. "Nothing in the regs against recycling your inspirational speeches." She looked at him for a moment. "You know, Taylor reminded me of you back there, a little bit. All fired up about injustice. Full of outrage."
"Hmm," was all he said.
"...You aren't still annoyed with me because of Saleon, are you?"
His good mandible flicked up in a lopsided smirk. "I think I'll let you wonder."
"Such a man of mystery," she said, eyebrows arched. "I think I'll survive."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Shepard closed her eyes, soaking in the steady warmth of the battery walls at her back.
"So what about you," he said.
She opened her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Garrus looked over his shoulder. "Too good to have your own personal hell like the rest of us?"
Shepard just laughed.
She'd woken up in an unrecognizable galaxy, jammed together from spare parts, a Cerberus logo stamped on her ass. She'd been handed a beautiful, expensive, top-of-the-line mockery of her old ship, crewed by beautiful, expensive, top-of-the-line terrorists.
The Alliance wanted her to shut up and go back to being conveniently dead. Kaidan, it seemed, felt the same way. Anderson was the only family she'd ever had, and he wouldn't even answer her emails.
And either her sanity had splintered under the stress, or she was now some kind of unkillable demigod. Or both.
She slid down the wall to sit on the floor, and buried her head in her hands. "...I think I'm in my special hell right now."
Garrus turned around to face her and crossed his arms over his chest. "Keep sweet-talking me like that, Shepard, and people will start to wonder about us."
"Not what I meant," she muttered. "And you know it, you ass."
He tilted his head to one side, considering.
She dropped her hands with a sigh, and leaned forward to rest her chin on her knees. Her hair fell over her face.
"So. About the YMIR," Garrus began.
"The YMIR?" Shepard looked up. "That's what you're being all weird about? I thought... well. The last two years. Getting into bed with Cerberus. Kaidan. There's a lot to cover."
He waved a hand through the air, batting her personal demons aside like gnats. "That's not what's important right now." He paused, peering at her face. "Uh. I mean, unless it is, and you want to... talk... about it?"
He looked deeply uncomfortable. Shepard smirked. "Maybe another time. Or never."
He exhaled. "Good. So. The YMIR."
She tried to keep her posture relaxed. "Yeah. What about it?"
"It wasn't on our radar. You knew it was there anyway."
Shit. Stupid of her. Old Garrus wouldn't have pressed the issue; he deferred to her in all things. She'd forgotten that New Garrus was something different.
"I heard it clanking around," she tried.
He tapped his visor. "I pick up mech chatter with this thing, you know. It hadn't activated yet."
She huffed. "Then I saw it. Or it was just a lucky guess. To be honest, I don't really remember, Garrus. I was too busy concentrating on keeping our asses out of the fire."
"Which you did admirably. I don't think my shields took a single bullet."
"Thank you," she said, mollified.
He leaned forward. "...Which is really weird."
"Sorry for being good at my job," she snapped.
"That's not what I'm saying, Shepard." He spread his hands. "After the Praetorian, and then the YMIR, and then that pack of hunters you rooted out, I just— I know something's up. I know you know it too. You don't have to talk to me, but will you at least check in with Lawson? I'm starting to worry."
"Worry about what? That I'm doing what they brought me back to do, and I'm doing it really well?" She rose to her feet. "I'm here for two reasons: to find our colonists, and to kill bad guys. The colonists are still a work in progress, but I don't think anyone can complain about my job performance on the battlefield."
Instead of replying, he reached behind his console, and held up her ruined breastplate. The light shone wan and orange through the hole in its center.
When the fuck had he hacked into her quarters? She crossed her arms. "Seriously, Vakarian?"
He took a deep breath. "Shepard. I don't know what kind of fancy and probably illegal tech Cerberus put in your brain to bring you back. With everything you went through..." He shook his head. "I saw some of the reconstruction photos. Frankly, I'd be surprised if you weren't a different person after that.
"But even if there are wires holding parts of you together now, even if you've changed, I know it's still you."
He looked up, met her eyes. His voice softened. "And I'm really glad you're here."
She opened her mouth to reply, but had no words.
He glanced down, and fussed with a bit of peeling ceramic. "Anyway. My point was, the Collectors already killed you once." He straightened abruptly, mandibles pulled tight against his face. "I'd appreciate it if you could stop trying to finish the job for them." He tossed the ruined breastplate at her.
Shepard caught the armor, and turned it over in her hands. Tiny shards of ceramic glittered around the punched-out hole in the center. She brushed her fingertips over the ragged edge.
"Ha," she said quietly. "I'm invincible."
He tipped his head back, looked up at the ceiling in a silent prayer for strength. "Shepard—"
"Garrus, I—" She bit her lip, looked away. She knew he trusted her. His faith in her was so strong it was tangible; a heavy, reassuring warmth at her back. But this— whatever it was that was happening to her, it was about forty steps above a brothers-in-arms confession. She'd only barely managed to admit her suspicions to herself, much less out loud and to someone else.
And Garrus knew exactly how high the stakes were, more than anyone else on the ship. If he judged that she was crazy and a threat to the mission, he would be compelled to remove her. She'd be compelled to stop him. They'd probably kill each other in the process.
And then— if she wasn't crazy— she'd come right back to life, and have to do it all over again.
"I know you don't like to think about what happened to you, Shepard. Can't blame you. I don't like to think about it either." Garrus leaned heavily against his console. "But it sounds like Cerberus wiped out their savings accounts to bring you back. I doubt they could pull it off twice."
She tilted her head, looking him over. His shoulders were slumped, and he rubbed at a spot on his forehead underneath his visor. He was doing that New Garrus thing again, the one where he sank from fury to exhaustion in the space of a heartbeat.
Old Garrus had always stayed angry right up until the moment his bullet exited the back of the bad guy's skull. He'd seemed so young to her back then. Limitless energy and determination, fueled by the fire of his righteousness. Ready to ride forth and restore justice to the galaxy.
When she'd met Archangel on Omega, he'd been half-dead from weariness and emptied of hope.
Shepard looked him in the eyes and put all the force of her insane, impossible conviction into her words:
"Don't worry, Garrus. They won't have to bring me back again. I promise."
His shoulders lifted. "...Thank you, Shepard. That's all I want."
She nodded and left, her lips twisting in a sad smile.
He should want more.