Events of the chapter: Shepard's nightmares worsen; Garrus is called to Luna

Author's notes:
If you're interested on what happens to Miranda and Garrus on Luna, *please see my companion story The Hori Hori Knife*. It's an action & drama fic, so a bit of a different pace than this one. I wrote it to be best read after this chapter, but it can be read anytime!

PART I
Chapter 12: Fiddlehead

10 months after the Reaper War
Vancouver, Earth

It's dark. Shepard's calves are burning. Her neck aches. She's crouching—a fiddlehead, furled and green. She isn't sure how long she's been like this. The only thing she can see is a thin line of light coming through a crack in the door. She doesn't know why she's there; she only knows she must not leave. "Stay inside. Don't move. Don't leave."

She puts an ear close to the door and listens. She hears shouting coming from another room. It sounds like the rumble of Batarian voices, but she isn't sure. Whoever it is is throwing things, destroying things—the sound of something heavy clattering to the floor, glass shattering, wood cracking and splintering.

Then, a long, terror-stricken scream. It sounds like her mom.

It's quiet again.

BANG!

She hears her dad, keening, begging for his wife's life.

"Don't...DON'T! Let go of her! Let her go! LET US GO!"

Pleading. Crying. Sobbing.

"We haven't done anything... why are you doing this..."

BANG!

BANG! BANG!

Tears begin to stream down Shepard's face. But she knows she can't cry, she can't make a sound, she can't move, she can't act. They'll hear.

"STOP CRYING, CIRCE! THERE'S NO USE CRYING. STOP CRYING!" she screams inside her head. She wipes her eyes on her sleeve.

After the sound of the last shot, there is silence again, for a long time.

Shepard stays curled in her ball until her body can't take it anymore. She shoves the door with her hand and it swings open with a thud. Shepard spills out onto the floor. It was the cupboard.

She stands up slowly to find she's in her family's kitchen. Breakfast is still on the table: half-eaten plates of toast and three cups of tea. She walks into the living room. The shelves are bare. The floor is a sea of her mother's old books, thrown down, open, pages bent. Shards of glass set on end like briar thorns. A side table cracked in two. Streaks of fresh, bright blood, snaking from the table to the front door.

Shepard follows the streaks. They stop at the door. Her mom and dad aren't there. She shuffles into the front garden—the plants are brown and shriveled, it's overgrown with weeds. The sky is dark. Among the weeds, she sees someone on the ground. She runs to them.

It's not her mom, and it's not her dad. It's an Alliance soldier. The tag on the uniform reads: Owens. The lower half of his body is being eaten away by a yellow liquid—still fresh and oozing—his face barely recognizable. She stumbles back. Two more bodies: Private Beaufort, Private Martinez. Private Martinez is missing a boot, her hair is all but burned away. Private Beaufort is lying face down across her, as if trying to shield her from something. Shepard looks up. Dozens of Alliance marines. The ones who perished on Akuze. Her unit. Mangled, burned, bloody, unrecognizable. Her unit scattered across her family's farm. Shepard falls to her knees.

Why
Why am I the only one
Again
Left alone to remember
Left alone to forget
The only one.

A high, piercing sound. It's the shrill cry of a thresher maw. She freezes. She rises and turns around. It isn't a thresher maw, it's a harvester, swooping down over the hill. The hill, dotted with the shining spires of Thessia. Reapers have come raining down, their arms crushing everything beneath them. The ground shakes. Columns of dust rise and swirl around the spires. Thessia devoured. Screams echo in all directions.

Shepard squeezes her eyes shut, certain that this cannot be real. When she opens her eyes again, she'll be in her bed.

Then she hears it—a roar, something gaining speed. Something hot is filling the air.

She opens her eyes and peers into the sky. An asteroid hurtling towards the earth and gaining speed. Before she can run, before she can even think, she throws her arms out, her palms flat, and tries to stop it. It rushes at her—a flash of blinding, white light.

"Shepard. Shepard!" Garrus shook Shepard's shoulder as he raised his voice, his subvocals high and tense, barely audible over his main vocal cords. He had woken up to her moaning in her sleep before, or even punching her fists into the air, but never crying or screaming. "CIRCE! Circe, wake up!"

Shepard woke with a start, gasping for air. Her body was drenched in sweat, her face smothered with tears, her eyes still half shut. Immediately, she began to cry, then sob, unaware of Garrus' presence or his hand on her shoulder. The sobs soon gave way to hyperventilation. Her upper body trembled uncontrollably. Garrus sat up to press his hand firmly across her chest. His eyes darted back and forth across her face, and he began to worry—he could feel her heart galloping violently. He had never felt it beat so hard, so fast.

"Shepard, it's Garrus...you're ok, everything is alright. You're safe. I'm right here," he cooed. He stroked her head with the back of his hand several times.

Her breathing began to steady, but her heart was still beating furiously. Shepard's swollen eyes cracked open. "Garrus..." she whispered. She was near sobs again, tears still falling from the corners of her eyes. Her lips quivered, wet from her runny nose.

"Yes, I'm here, you're ok," he said once more.

She grabbed his hand and held it tight to her wet cheek. Her heart began to slow a little as she realized that she was in her bed, safe. "What's...wrong with me?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"I think you had a bad nightmare, love," he said. "But you're ok now. It's over."

"I tried to stop it, but I couldn't…." she said. She grimaced and began to cry again. Shepard frantically wiped at her eyes with her fists but couldn't stop herself.

"Shepard..."

If turians could cry, Garrus would have been on the verge of tears. He had never seen her so vulnerable. Instead, a low keen was starting at the back of his throat, choked and dry. In the field he could keep an eye on her flank, warn her when there was something incoming, even take the shot where she had failed. Here, in her own bed, he could only sit by and watch. He was helpless to fight an enemy he couldn't see.

Garrus stopped himself from making a sound. He knew she needed him to be calm. When her breathing had returned to normal, he held her close. "Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes. That can't feel good."

He got up from the bed and searched through her locker. Shepard sat up, then lifted her arms as he peeled off her soaked tank. She stared down at the rumpled sheets, too ashamed to meet his gaze. Garrus gently wiped her face clean with a washcloth.

Sitting down next to her, he helped her pull a new shirt on. "Would you have a cup of tea? It might help."

"Sure..." Shepard replied, so quietly that it barely registered as an answer.

Garrus stood at the kitchenette, his back turned to her. He switched the heating element on and set the kettle down. "You know, when I returned to the Normandy—after Omega—I used to dream, a lot. Nightmares." Garrus leaned forward with his hands against the counter. "My squad would appear, night after night. Sometimes all of them, sometimes a few, sometimes just one."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Shepard brought her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs.

Garrus spoke over his shoulder. "We were in the middle of a suicide mission, everyone was under enough pressure already. Talking to someone about it, especially you..."

Shepard was silent.

"Anyway. Those dreams...they left me, eventually. After we caught up with Sidonis, and I learned the truth about what happened—let's just say the dreams weren't nightmares anymore." Garrus snatched two cups from the counter and turned them upright on the table.

The kettle gurgled, steam beginning to waft from its neck.

He wandered back to the bedside and sat with Shepard. "I don't know what you're dealing with, Shepard. I can guess, but I'm not going to assume. That's for you to share when you're ready. But if my opinion means anything—you need to face whatever this is head on. Or those nightmares will keep coming back."

"You didn't do that though, did you?" she asked.

"Not at first, no. After I lost my team...I was just surviving. Between the Normandy, Cerberus, our mission, you—there wasn't much time to think. I didn't let myself feel anything except anger. I just used it to keep going."

Steam burst from the kettle. The whine from its whistle grew to an insistent screech.

Garrus went back to the kitchenette and pulled two tea bags from a tin. "But you forced me to confront it when you didn't let me take the shot. I couldn't think in black and white anymore. And if I'd have taken the shot...well, I think I'd still be having those nightmares now."

As Garrus removed the kettle from the heat, the screech waned to a murmur. He placed the tea bags into the cups and flooded them with water.

"I don't know if I can do that right now," Shepard said softly. "I'm having a hard enough time just being with myself right now. Inviting ghosts...ghosts...maybe it's best to leave them resting."

"Maybe." Garrus handed her a cup of tea and settled down on the bed again. "Maybe not. But whatever you decide—I'm here to listen, if you have something to say."

Shepard bit her lower lip and nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping the hot tea.

Garrus inhaled audibly. "I know you don't like it when I say things like this—but have you thought about talking to Dr. Paulsen or Dr. Marques? Your heart was working overtime earlier...I was afraid something might happen to you."

"That's the worst I've had. I can usually keep it under control with breathing, but..."

Garrus interrupted, "You mean to tell me this has happened before?"

Shepard looked down, then ran her thumb over the lip of her cup. She didn't answer.

"Shepard..."

"I'll ask them for an appointment tomorrow." She took a sip of tea. "It's 3:30 in the morning right now, no point in waking anyone."

"Good." Garrus' patted her thigh and squeezed.

Shepard gazed up from her cup. Her locker, which was directly across from the bed, was still open. She stood up and set her cup down on the table. As she crossed over to the locker to close it, she caught sight of her service medal on the floor, several feet away. It was a bit odd, since she normally kept the frame atop her locker, but she didn't think much of it. Shepard picked up the frame, dusted it off, and placed back where it belonged.

This time when Shepard woke up, she wasn't hyperventilating or screaming, or even crying. Her heart had been beating fast, but she had succeeded in slowing it with her breathing routine. It was a good start. She dropped her feet to the floor. Resting her elbows on her knees, she ran her hands through her loose, tangled hair.

Shepard brought up her omnitool to check the time. She squinted. 10:30 am. "SHIT! My appointment! I'm soooo late!" she shouted at no one.

In her rush to the locker, she stumbled over a pair of shoes that were left in the middle of the room. What the fuck! She hastily stripped off her tank and her shorts and let them drop to the floor. At the locker, she snatched at a clean shirt, then heard a seam in the neck rip as she tugged to get it off the hanger. "OH COME ON!"

After finally getting dressed, she flew through the door, holding an unopened energy bar between her teeth and shoving an arm through her jacket sleeve. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. FUUUUUCK! Suffice it to say, Shepard despised being late.

Shepard gnawed at the last of her bar as she entered the medical facility. "I'm here to shee Doctor Paulshen. Cawmander Cirshe Shepard," she said, still chewing. The receptionist checked her in, then pointed her to the outpatient waiting room. A familiar face was there to greet her.

"Well, well, well...look who decided to grace us with her presence. It's the devastatingly beautiful Commander Shepard." Garrus sauntered over and held a lock of her hair between his fingers. "And her hair is especially...fine, today."

Shepard's fingers caught in her hair as she tried to comb them through. "Crap, I knew I forgot something." She hastily gathered her hair in a short ponytail and tied it with the elastic around her wrist.

"Late night?" he asked.

"Late morning!" Shepard replied. "What are you even doing here? I thought you had a meeting with Kaidan and Admiral Bhatt?" Shepard plopped down onto one of the waiting room chairs.

Garrus sat down next to her. "I asked Primarch Victus for a personal day. You know what he said? He said, 'Garrus, you never ask me for anything. Leave.'"

"Hah! Short and to the point, my kind of man."

Garrus gave his mandibles a quick flap. "Oh, really?"

Shepard shrugged. "I meaaaan... have you seen the guy? He's pretty impressive."

Garrus clapped his hand to the top of her shoulder. "I love you, Shepard, never change."

"In all seriousness, you should be spending your day off doing something relaxing, not sitting around here." Shepard balled up the wrapper from her energy bar and shoved it into her pocket. "You're exhausted, Garrus. Don't think I haven't seen the bags under your eyes."

"Bags?" Garrus asked, confused.

"Ok, metaphorical bags."

"I know, you're right. But I've got your back. Just like you have mine."

A nurse poked his head out of the examination ward. "Commander Shepard?"

"Ooh, that's me." Shepard raised her hand.

"I'll be here when you're done. Good luck in there, love."

Shepard smiled brightly, wiggling her fingers at Garrus in a funny little wave as she followed the nurse into the ward.

The cold surface of the examination table prickled Shepard's skin, even through the folds of her clothing. She lay still as the scanner passed over her body.

"Doing ok there, Commander?" Dr. Paulsen asked through the intercom. He was inside the control room, safe from any possible mishaps.

"Yep," she answered. She relaxed her gaze as the light passed over her eyes.

"After this pass, I'm going to need you to try and activate your biotic powers. I know it might be difficult, but we need to see what's happening while you're actively engaging your eezo nodes. I've set up a target dummy on the other side of the room."

"Got it."

Shepard eased off the table and stood facing the dummy. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. Stretching her arm out, she tensed her jaw and let the sensation of control wash over her.

"Understood, Primarch, I'll be there right away," Garrus said into his omnitool. He returned to reception and left a message for Shepard with the woman at the desk. He felt awful having to leave before her appointment was over, but Miranda had come back with some vital intelligence and Kaidan insisted that they needed to act right away. Shepard would understand.

BANG!
BANG!
BANG!

All three rounds had gone through the head. Shepard reset the target and switched weapons. She needed to brush up on her incapacitating shots, but she wasn't in the mood for mere wounds. Kill shots only today.

BANG!
BANG!
BANG!

Right through the gut with her shotgun.

There wasn't enough ammo in the building to satisfy Shepard's need. She could have kept going well into the night, but active servicemen had their own slotted times, and they took priority at the Alliance gun range.

When she returned home, Shepard collapsed onto the bed, her shoes and jacket still on. She kicked her dangling feet as she scrolled through her messages. She hadn't checked them for a few days and her inbox was filling up. The first message was from Liara:

Hello Shepard,

I hope this message finds you well. I apologize for taking so long to reply to you, but our mission on Mars has lasted far longer than we ever expected. The work has been difficult.

Javik and I have made a major discovery here. It may change the course of the future as we know it. I am not at liberty to speak of it yet, but I hope we can discuss it in person when I see you next. Javik sends his greetings. Take care of yourself.

Your dear friend,
Liara

Shepard wondered what it was that they had found, what had been keeping them away for so many months. She wasn't going to know for a while, she suspected. And if Liara couldn't mention anything about it in her message, then it must be big. She replied:

Liara,

Whatever it is you found, I hope you stay safe. You and big finds...things have a history of turning dangerous ;) But I know you can handle yourself. Having Javik at your six doesn't hurt either. Take care.

-Shepard

The next dozen or so messages appeared to be from members of the public, with subjects like "Our Hero!", "you skanky turian whore", "TRAITOR", and "biotic tips?". Shepard skipped over them and opened the next message.

Circe-

Left a message at reception, but just in case you didn't get it, I wanted you to know I didn't leave because I wanted to. Miranda got some good intel that we needed to act on fast. Catch up with you when we return. Don't be mad at me?

Hope the appointment wasn't too bad.

Love,
G

Garrus, always so thorough. How could she be mad when he was doing something good? All their work to get rid of the Reapers—someone bringing them back would be catastrophic. The undoing of every sacrifice that was made in the name of the galaxy's survival.

Garrus had come a long way since his days at C-Sec, the rogue officer with a rebellious streak. He and Tali had been the ones who stuck by Shepard, thick and thin. And a mere four years later he had become a general in the Hierarchy, calling shots and commanding his own large cadre of people. Shepard was proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Or at least she would, if she were herself again. She only wished that she could be wherever he was, with him. She missed it, their simpatico connection in the field—the two of them in a deadly, carefully choreographed dance. She wanted to run, she wanted to duck, to aim, to shoot, to punch. To let her biotics loose on an enemy that deserved it.

Shepard hesitated at the last message in her inbox. It was from Dr. Paulsen. The subject read: "Your latest results". She opened it.

Commander Circe Shepard:

Attached you will find a copy of the results from your latest slate of lab tests. If you have anymore questions beyond what we already discussed, please don't hesitate to contact me directly.

Sincerely,
Dr. Robert Paulsen
Systems Alliance Medical Corps

Shepard skimmed the report. There was a long list of terms and numbers that didn't mean much to her, but the summary caught her attention. Phrases like "extensive nerve damage" and "inadequate electrical signals" sent heat flushing through her head.

She had taken care to leash her grief when Dr. Paulsen explained his initial findings at the medical facility. That her neurons were firing incorrectly. That while her biotic nodes were confirmed to be intact, the electrical charge required to engage them was weak. That their pathways were somehow damaged or not working as they should.

"Commander, when was the last time you remember using your biotic abilities?" Dr. Paulsen had asked.

"The Battle of London, before I made a run for the beam," she answered.

"Nothing after that?"

Shepard thought back. No, she hadn't used her powers at all after travelling through the Conduit. Nothing since London. She blinked slowly, then shook her head at the doctor.

"I can only speculate, but something may have happened in London, something that caused major damage to the system that connects your brain to your eezo nodes. Perhaps an overload of some kind? Dr. Marques had proposed it, but Miranda and I didn't think that was possible."

Shepard was silent as she stifled a scream.

"And my heart?" Shepard asked.

"Your heart? There's nothing wrong with your heart as far as I can see, Commander. I'm afraid it's more than just a physiological problem."

Now, alone in the confines of her room, Shepard cut the tether. She yanked off a shoe and hurtled it across the room, knocking down datapads that had been stacked on the table. Shaking her head violently, she snarled, then screamed as she pelted the other shoe at the door. The shoe ricocheted and landed at the foot of the bed. Shepard was breathing hard. She didn't want to cry—no, she wanted to tear everything apart.

Shepard stormed to her locker and slammed the door shut. Just as she seized her service medal, she heard a rap at her door. She swivelled her head and stared, wondering who would dare visit now. She put the medal down. Taking quick breath through her mouth, she smoothed her hair and answered the door.

"Kaidan!" Shepard forced a smile.

"Hey, Shepard. I just popped by to see how you're doing. Garrus mentioned that he had to leave in the middle of your appointment."

"He did? I thought you went with him?" she asked. She was still breathing hard.

"No, he's on Luna with Miranda. Admiral Mikhailovich has me pushing papers today." Kaidan was still standing outside the door. He stared at the hairs sticking up from the back of Shepard's head. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Um, I don't know if I'm up for company right now."

Kaidan looked past Shepard's shoulder and saw the datapads littering the floor. "Are you sure?"

Shepard raked her fingers over the back of her head. "Yeah, I think I'd rather just spend some time alone right now."

"Is everything ok, Shepard? You seem a little...frazzled."

Shepard crossed her arms and leaned against the doorway. "Frazzled? Like how?"

"I don't know—you just seem...tense."

"Look, I'm just not up for a visit right now, ok?"

"But..."

Shepard interrupted. "You don't need to babysit me, Kaidan. I'm fine by myself."

"No, of course. I just—"

She cut him off again. "I'm glad you understand."

Kaidan gawked helplessly at Shepard. Her eyes were cold and hard. He tried to reach out one more time. "Listen, if you want to talk later, I'm around."

"Sure. Goodbye Kaidan."

Shepard walked away from the door and let it shut in Kaidan's face. She had never been so cruel to him as she had just now; as irascible as she was, she knew it was no way to treat her friend. But throwing him across the courtyard was not an option. It was the kinder choice to let the door close in his face.

Turian Dreadnought

"Primarch! There's been a transmission from Luna. The ground team is reporting multiple causalities. They're evacuating immediately," a turian recruit reported.

Primarch Victus rose from his seat on the bridge. "Where is General Vakarian?"

"He's still on the moon sir, his strike team is pinned down at the top floor of the First Defense building," replied an ensign.

"Get me Admiral Bhatt at the Alliance ASAP. And let's ready our corvettes for fire support if needed," the Primarch ordered.

"Yes sir!" the ensign acknowledged.

Song: "Dead Souls" - Joy Division / "Sprained Ankle" - Julien Baker
Wish I could write songs / About anything other than death / I can't go to bed / Without trying the red shaven operas