Events of the chapter: Shepard and Kaidan's mother travel to the Alenko orchard; Shepard counsels Garrus
PART II
Chapter 7: The Endurance of Perennials
Perennial roots, tall leaves, O the winter shall not freeze you
delicate leaves,
Every year shall you bloom again, out from where you retired you
shall emerge again;
O I do not know whether many passing by will discover you or
inhale your faint odor, but I believe a few will;
O slender leaves! O blossoms of my blood! I permit you to tell
in your own way of the heart that is under you
- Walt Whitman
1 year, 8 mo. after the end of the Reaper War
Okanagan Valley, British Columbia, Earth
It was early evening when the borrowed skycar scudded along the edge of the lake, the sun dipping down behind the mountains that lined its shores. Shepard peered down from the passenger side window.
"Wow, this lake sure is long," she said. It was a typical touristy thing to say, but she had never ventured very far from the B.C. coast. Kaidan had mentioned his family's property in the Interior, and he had mentioned their orchard, but he had never mentioned it was on the shore of such a grand lake.
"We're almost there, Commander," said Kaidan's mother, who was piloting the car. "Would you look at that sunset! Doesn't matter how many times I see it, it still takes my breath away."
Haze in the air had turned the sky into a gilded pool of orange—a side effect of wildfires burning in the region. It reminded Shepard of the torrential rainfall that sometimes fell on Mindoir in the summers, flooding the rivers and streams. But as the clouds and their storms retreated, a rainbow would be left in their stead; destruction carved a place for beauty, and someday in the future, renewal.
Summer in the Okanagan Valley, however, was dry and scorching. She stared down at the many boats dotting the lake, and the latecomers swimming by the beaches to escape the August heat. They stood out against the brilliance of the water, which was wide and flat like a sheet of gold.
"Lots of people down there. This place must get busy."
"It sure does. It's seasonal, though. Winter is pretty dead around here. Not a lot to do outside of typical snow sports. But who knows, maybe that will change. They say the atmosphere won't stabilize for years." Kaidan's mother slowed down. "Ah, here we are!"
The gabled roof of a modest home came into view, set back from a dirt service road. It was nestled on a gentle slope in a thicket of brush and grass, with tall pines punctuating the back of the property. Areas like this had survived the war unscathed; they held little interest to the Reapers, who were focused on large population centers for maximum 'processing'. Those who took shelter in the countrysides and agrarian regions, like Kaidan's mother, were spared that grisly fate.
The skycar came to a gentle stop in a large clearing at the foot of the service road. As the doors rose, the subtle odor of smoke hit Shepard's nose. She wrinkled it to keep from sneezing. "You didn't need to escort me, I know how busy you are. I would've been okay going on my own."
"Nonsense, it's such a short ride away. Besides, I wanted to introduce you to a few people. Best done in person."
Shepard stepped out, then grabbed her lean bag from the back of the skycar. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Alenko, really. Letting me stay here—this is beyond generous…"
"Just Katie. Mrs. Alenko sounds so stuffy, don't you think?" Katie reached for a crate that was behind her seat and closed the door.
"Katie and Kaidan? That's cute."
"My full name is Katherine, but almost no one calls me that." Katie started up the gravel path that lead from the road to the house, with Shepard following close behind. Her short salt-and-pepper hair bounced with each step. "And you're welcome to stay as long as you like. If we can't rely on friends or family, who can we rely on?"
In Shepard's case, the family of a friend. That was more than a lot of people had now. And she had had her crew—her brothers and sisters in arms—but they were scattered across the galaxy, gone to their own homes or ships, serving others who needed them.
As they approached the house, Shepard's stride shortened. A warmth filled her chest. Along the long side of the house, in an open courtyard, an unkempt patch of flowers bloomed with abandon. Tufts of showy asters, fluffs of yarrow and alumroot, and stalks of penstemon and indian paintbrush stood amongst the fescue and pinegrass, which had been left to grow wild between the house and the outbuilding on the opposite side of the courtyard.
The house itself was a single large volume; it evoked images of cabins built in earlier centuries, the kind Shepard had seen in children's books and old illustrations. The simple brick and timber facade was lined with windows that reached from floor to ceiling.
Katie opened the front door and groped around for the shade controls. The house was a void, save for the light coming through the door. She tapped the pad. The darkness of the window panels faded, replaced by the fiery light of sunset. Pristine pieces of antique furniture populated the room—21st century, as far as Shepard's amateur eye could tell, but they could have been older. There was an understated elegance to the space even she could appreciate.
"Wow, your home is a real gem."
"It's simple, but we never needed it to be anything more. Our family had some happy times here, when Kaidan was young." Katie crossed to the kitchen, which along with the large common room, created a single, uninterrupted space. Only a large kitchen island delineated the two areas.
Shepard set her bag down in the foyer and walked into the common room, approaching the largest window on the south side of the house. Flanked by built-in bookshelves, it offered a wide view of the courtyard and its carpet of wildflowers.
"Are all these books yours? It's an impressive collection. My mother kept some antiques of her own, but I was only able to save a handful of them."
"They belonged to George's grandfather. I wanted to sell them—I'm not much into collecting paper books, they just gather dust—but he insisted on keeping them. My husband was a very sentimental man. So we moved them here for safekeeping. You're free to read them, dear, no need to be too precious about it if you ask me."
Katie busied herself with putting away the food she had carried in. "You're doing me a big favor, you know," she said as she peered into the refrigerator. "Looking after the orchard is it's own job. It will be lovely to see it thriving again. George saw to the care after he retired, but most of the work was done by a friend of ours. He died during the Battle of the Citadel."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you. Mariano was a brave man."
"I imagine there's a lot to be done, then. I have more experience with farming than I do trees, but my family kept a small grove of natives at the edge of their land. Fruit on Mindoir is pretty bland though. Nothing as decadent as apricots or cherries."
Katie gasped and brought her hand to her chest. Her ornate wedding ring sparkled in the light. "Oh, imagine cherries being decadent! You must have had quite the surprise having fruit from Earth! "
Shepard took note of the large diamond. She had always suspected that Kaidan came from money, seeing how he and his mother lived. But learning that they owned property on English Bay, along the Sunshine Coast, and in the Interior confirmed it. It was quite a bit of valuable real estate. To his credit, Kaidan never once flaunted his wealth or behaved in a way that made her think he was spoiled. As for his mother, she was a proud and industrious woman. Katie Alenko always seemed to be on her way to somewhere, busy with volunteer work, or looking after friends. Shepard wasn't sure if it was the loss of her husband or if she was like this before, but she was a kind person, and now Shepard understood why Kaidan had turned out the way he did.
On the exposed brick wall, several candid family photos hung in an orderly row. The middle picture was of a wild-haired Kaidan—who looked to be about four or five—taking an enormous bite from an apple, his stubby, dirty fingers clutched around its blushing skin, and his eyes bulged wide toward the camera.
Shepard sputtered as she pointed to the photo. "Hah! Look how cute he was!"
"Oh, you don't know the half of it, darling. That boy was a terror!" Katie said as she tore through the cupboards.
"What? Kaidan Alenko, a terror?"
Katie nodded with wide eyes. "Did he ever tell you he got suspended in grade one? He'd led a class rebellion. Didn't like that his classroom kept a hamster, said it was wrong to keep an animal captive. Well, didn't the kids storm out and set the hamster free. They chucked the bedding from the cage and tossed that in a dumpster. That wasn't the bad part, though. The bad part was that he bit the school principal after being sent to the office. Absolutely no remorse."
Shepard sputtered again, this time breaking into laughter as she imagined a tiny Kaidan sinking his chompers into some poor administrator over a kindergarten coup.
"He calmed down a lot around by the time he turned ten, but then his biotic abilities began to manifest. That was a scary time."
"I was only six when mine developed. It started with low-grade fevers and terrible body aches. My parents worried I might be sick with leukemia or some other awful thing. Then one day I was playing by a stream on the far side of our farm. I went to reach for a lilotu—I don't know if you know them, they're kind of like…frogs? Anyway, this thing hopped out of the water and I got really excited. I tried to catch it, only when I reached out, the lilotu burst in midair. Just made an awful squelching sound and painted its blue guts all over the rocks. I screamed. I'd obliterated this innocent creature without even touching it. I didn't understand. I ran home crying to my mom, my shirt soaked with tears. She thought I was talking nonsense."
"What a horrible shock you must have had! Poor thing. That's terrible, Circe."
"It really was," Shepard replied. "Gosh, I haven't told that story in a long time. I can still see those rocks so clearly, the water washing everything away. Of course, we didn't know much about biotics in those days." She slid onto one of the stools that lined the kitchen island. "Now that my ability is gone…I feel just the same. Like I want to scream and run home crying."
Katie put her hands on the counter and looked directly into Shepard's eyes. "If there's one that I've learned again and again in my years on this earth, it's that everything changes. All the time. Even the things you consider fundamental. If you can remember that—if you can accept it," Katie stretched her arm across the island to put her hand on Shepard's. "Then the change feels less like a burden and more like an opportunity."
Accept change? Shepard and change were old friends. They didn't always get along; it was more like they co-existed. But for the most part, she ignored it.
"Thank you, Mrs. Alenko, I'll keep that in mind."
"Katie." Katie smiled and patted Shepard's hand.
"Thanks, Katie." Shepard smiled back ruefully. She had almost forgotten what it was like to have a mom.
At dusk, shadows creep away from the orchard.
What was once fruit-laden is now barren. She's curled up, a tiny seed beneath an apple tree.
The crisp crack of a twig.
A peacock struts past, its long feathers dragging behind. It cocks its head at her in curiosity. Its crown quivers as it fans its tail out in a protective shield. The clouds overhead clear.
"Circe…"
She untucks her head from beneath her her arms.
"Mom?"
Her mother stands over her—her mother's fastened mouth hard and ascetic.
"Get up, Circe."
"Mom…"
"Get yourself back up, miss. There's no need to hide here."
"But I'm scared."
"Why?"
"There's someone here. They've been here all night. They're going to find me."
"You can take care of yourself, can't you?"
She holds her arms out and stares at the backs of her hands. They look smaller, like a child's hands. "I can't…"
Her mother crouches by her side and strokes her hair. "I didn't raise a slouch. Work isn't done until it's done. You should know that. Your work's not done. You need to dig."
Her mother points to the ground. The peacock pecks at the spot with its hooked beak.
Out of the retreating darkness, four eyes flit towards her mother.
Her mother's lips part.
"Mom!" She lunges forward to seize her.
Before her fingers close around her mother's wrist, a nimble hawk swoops in, its graceful movement a whisper. It snatches at her arm with its piercing talons.
It's too late. The ground rends in two, absorbing her mother whole.
Shepard's eyes cracked open. Another fitful sleep. She had been waking up tired every day since the blackout, but this morning her body was a lead weight that refused to be moved. Maybe it had just been the wine at dinner.
Shepard shuffled barefoot down the hallway. Katie had left her a pair of padded slippers, but the cold hardness of the concrete floor was oddly comforting—the solid ground pushing up against her, forcing her to stand tall.
Light poured through the front window of the house unfiltered and unbidden as Shepard came into the common room. She walked toward the window in a daze, squinting with an arm held above her forehead. After her eyes had adjusted, she surveyed the scenery. A sweeping view of the lake unfolded between the overgrown vegetation that grew along the property. To the northwest, she could see the corner of the neighbor's sprawling vineyard, which was already busy with harvesters filling crates with ripe grapes.
This place was a far cry from the glittering towers of Illium, or the fetid, dingy corners of Omega. Even the Citadel—with its perfectly landscaped terraces and artificial rivers—could not compare to land in its natural state. It had been two decades since Shepard had lived in a place like this, since she had called that place home.
There was no home now. The Alliance was home, wherever she was stationed. And while things always changed, the constants in her life were service and her service weapon. Or at least they had been.
After her blackout on the Citadel, Shepard lived like ghost. She apologized to Khalisah al-Jilani in person and disappeared. Confining herself to her prefab, she ignored communications from nearly everyone, only going out when necessary, and when she did go out it was at night. She didn't tell Garrus what she was up to either, not at first. She was too ashamed, worried about what he might do if he knew. He had joked about abandoning his duties and coming back to Earth for her before. She was sure he would follow through this time.
When word of her assault reached the Alliance, Admiral Hackett—now back to work permanently—strong-armed her into taking a sabbatical. His message was candid but clear:
Commander Shepard,
You may have been able to keep it out of the media, but word has come back to headquarters about your recent run in with Khalisah al-Jilani. Because there were no formal charges or reports, we have chosen to overlook the situation. We felt it prudent to afford you some leeway, considering your status. This does not mean, however, that we condone your behavior. I'm sure you know full well what this could mean for your career should you continue down this path.
That said, I strongly advise you to take an official sabbatical. The Alliance will give up to three years for the pursuit of professional or personal goals, or for major life disruptions. I would consider this a major life disruption, wouldn't you?
I have contacted the medical corps. They will be sending you information regarding any available psychologists or therapists. You will avail yourself of their services if you wish to return to active duty.
On a personal note: I hope this serves as your wake-up call, Commander. I spoke to you of the black dog. This is not information I have shared with anyone outside of a clinical setting, and that has been to my own detriment. Please, for your own sake, do not follow in my footsteps.
Regards,
Admiral Steven Hackett
Kaidan, who had learned of the assault as soon as it happened, was the first person to check on her after her disappearing act. His comms went unanswered like all the others. In his last message, he offered his family's place as a working retreat. He suggested she could clear her head and reconnect with life beyond the Alliance. He said it had been his mother's idea, and that there was an open position at the grower's cooperative that might suit her. When she returned from her day out, she immediately wrote him back.
It wasn't the call of the bucolic that spoke to her. The happy moments of her childhood—the ones that predated the tragedy and the ruin—remained solidly in the past. She needed to be somewhere where she could be someone other than Commander Shepard. That wasn't going to happen in Vancouver or any other big city.
Today she'd take a walk through the orchard, to figure out what kind of work lay ahead of her. The orchard was a manageable size, a little less than four hectares, but she'd still have lots to do if she was going to bring it back to full health.
She shambled back to the bedroom to unpack the rest of her things. She removed a neat stack of clothes from the top of her bag and tucked them away into the empty dresser. At the bottom of the bag, several books were bundled together with a canvas ribbon, which was dingy and frayed. She brought the books back to the common room and pulled the ribbon from the stack. The fine, gold letters embossed across the first cover were nearly rubbed away, the edges of the book dented and faded. Shepard opened it to the first page. Written lightly in rough pencil was the name Hera Dallinger. She stared at the name, her eyes unblinking. Then she placed it on the shelf with the other books, leaving the rest of the stack on an adjacent side table.
After a quick shower and a bite to eat, she pulled her boots on and trudged down the hill, crossing the service road. Shepard held a hand over her brow to shield her eyes. Rows of trees snaked up and down the slopes that undulated along the shore, with a steep precipice separating the orchard from the lake. Spent cherries bled under her feet as she walked down one of the wide alleys, but the apples were still hard and green, and the apricots were ready to be picked, their usual velvety skin blighted by unsightly brown lesions. The long forgotten trees showed their neglect: oozing cankers of amber sap, rusted leaves; unproductive water sprouts that shot out in response to stress. Some trees would need to be cut down all together. And the rest were in sore need of pruning, their untended branches crowding and crossing in all the wrong places.
Shepard crouched and frowned at the weeds choking the soil. She scanned them with her omnitool. Most were resource-sucking invasives not native to the region. If she could secure more machinery or a couple of drones, she would be able clear them in no time. But times being what they were, that was a tall order.
As she studied the information on her omnitool, a loud ping alerted her to an incoming audio communication. The line hissed and clicked when she answered.
"Garrus?"
"Shepard! I've fi—got you on a comm line!"
"Garrus!" Shepard's big smile gleamed under the canopy of an apple tree. "You're breaking up a little."
"You can hear me—"
"I can, big guy."
"Ok, good."
"I've missed you, I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too. How are you holding up?"
The last time they spoke, the conversation had ended with awkward silence. Garrus was upset, but she had spent her emotional reserves holding back the tsunami of shame that threatened to wash her away. "I know I said it before, but I'm sorry, again. I'm sorry I disappeared like that."
"We don't need to rehash it. I'm not going to pretend like everything is ok—because it's not—but I'm not holding it against you. You've been through enough. I'm not upset, not at you."
Shepard rubbed a leaf from the tree between her fingers. A fine white powder coated her skin. "Mmm. I understand."
"So you got in ok? You're at the Alenkos' now, right?"
"Yeah, I arrived last night. Kaidan's mom came with. We had dinner. She introduced me to some of the people I'll be working with at the cooperative. They seem like good folks. Reminded me of people from home. Well, from Mindoir."
"Never thought I'd be so thankful to an ex, but thank the spirits for him."
Shepard nodded to herself. "He's good people. And his mom. She said I could stay as long as I like. She's only asking me to see after the orchard."
"Sounds like you've got your hands full, then."
Garrus' words could have been a put down if they had been said by someone else. After the high stakes of planning and executing a galactic war, looking after some fruit trees and helping farmers was hardly work. But he meant well, and she took his words at face value. "I'm not saving any lives here."
"Hey, at least you're away from the things getting you down. That's a start, isn't it?"
"I suppose," Shepard replied. "Had my second therapy session, so that's something."
"Good. Think Hackett will get off your back now?"
"He's just looking out for me. "
"After everything you did for that tough son-of-a-bitch? He'd better be."
Shepard snorted. "Speaking of tough guys, how are things with the Primarch?"
"He'll be on Palaven another two weeks before he goes to Sur'Kesh, then off to Thessia. He'll meet with the quarians while he's there."
"That's quite the itinerary. He must fucking hate it."
"Of course. But he's good at what he does. We'd be drowning at sea without him."
"Did he say anything about Tuchanka? Or Wrex?"
"Mmm…the krogan situation is…delicate. Post-war celebrations got a little out of hand. Let's just say that the cure for the genophage worked about as expected.
"Too many mouths to feed already?"
"Not yet, but there will be. Though it looks like fertility rates aren't as high Mordin suggested. Still, I'm afraid they'll slip back into their old ways. Not unless Wrex can find some way to keep them in line. And they're going to need colonies sooner rather than later." Garrus took an audible breath. "I still think we made the right decision, but damn if it isn't going to bite us all in the ass."
"It was going to bite us in the ass no matter what we did. Those are just the cards we were dealt. At least we've got survivors. That's thanks to them."
"And what are these survivors doing on Palaven? Fighting other turians, fighting the people trying to keep them together. How is it after everything they've been through, they don't still don't know what the hell they're fighting for? Not really."
Shepard brushed the dirt from her knees."You know, can't say things are sunshine and roses here either. It isn't making the news, but a little bird told me the Alliance has their hands full fighting pirates and mercenaries."
"A little bird told you? Sunshine and roses?" Garrus sounded incredulous. There was silence on the line and Shepard could hear his mind turning. "Nevermind," he said. "I'd prefer that to having to fight my own people. At least I'd have an excuse to shoot."
"You don't want it. They're controlling resources and committing atrocities, they're choking us out." Shepard meandered in and out of the trees, crossing from one row to another.
"I guess a year was plenty of time for the shitbags of the galaxy to organize themselves."
"At this point, I don't see any of us avoiding more war."
"I can barely contain what's happening on one small patch of Palaven. What happens if it gets bigger? We can't afford for this thing to drag on." His voice was coarse and low.
Shepard cocked an eyebrow. "Hey…anything you want to talk about?"
"Actually, yeah." The exhaustion in Garrus' voice crept through the line. "I wanted to ask for your advice last time, but uh, there were other things to discuss."
"Shoot, partner." She was more than happy to wear her commander's stripes. She strolled along an alley and towards the lake, her hands clasped behind her back.
"How do I put this?" he asked. There was a pause. The line hissed again, making Shepard wonder if they had lost connection. "I—I haven't gone…soft, have I? Lost my edge?"
"What do you mean?"
"I built something of a reputation, cultivated a 'legend' if you will, as Archangel. The guy who will stop at nothing to put the bad guys down."
"No kidding!" Shepard said sarcastically.
"Well, word of Archangel got around to my troops. They're all expecting me to do something bold—to grab the krogan by the quads and be done with it. The problem is, I don't know if that's the right thing to do."
"Since when do you care what people think of your reputation?"
"I don't. But one of my sergeants, he's got a way in. It could end the hostage situation and sabotage the rebel network. I shot him down, but now I'm having second thoughts."
"You think this plan of his has some merit?"
"It does, I won't deny that. The tactician in me is quietly cheering. We could shut this thing down for good if we do it right. But it's risky. It could end with a lot more dead turians—there are enough of those already. And able bodied soldiers are a precious resource."
"What does your instinct tell you?"
"The old me would have said 'screw it' and gone for the kill. But…it's different now. The citizens are desperate, they're barely holding on. My instinct is telling me to play it safe."
"In that case, the question you have to ask yourself is: who am I doing this for? Me? My soldiers? The Primarch? My people?"
"Is 'all of them' a good answer? What would you do, Shepard?"
She knew what her answer would be. But this wasn't her fight and it wasn't her place. Garrus had spent long enough in her shadow, looking to her for guidance. "That's not for me to say. They're your people, Garrus. You know them best. I'm only here to listen and ask the right questions." Shepard plucked a ripe apricot from an obliging tree and sniffed it. Its perfume was lush and honey-like, the skin of the fruit golden and unblemished. "I may not know the details, but I know you. You've always had it in you to be a good leader. Omega was a brutal lesson, but you went on and made the most of it. And what about the war? What other turian could have gotten the stuffy Hierarchy to make a move? Your dad may have been the one to convince the Primarch, but you were smart enough to go to him with all the evidence laid out. You persisted. You should trust yourself—I know I do."
"That means a lot coming from you…Hero of the Galaxy."
"Mmhmm, think you're so clever, do you?"
Garrus gave a small chuckle. "Thanks, Shepard. That really does help."
"Good." Shepard smiled softly as she came to the end of the alley.
A gentle zephyr rustled through the trees. She stared at the angry, tangled twigs poking up from their branches. Their disarray made her anxious, and the impulse to take a pair of loppers to them surged from her stomach. Such a drastic action would be foolish, however, and she put the thought to bed until spring.
Shepard looked past the short fencing and over the precipice, at the rippled water ahead. "God, I wish you could see it here right now. I've got this beautiful view of the lake, the mountains, a big grove of trees. And the sky is just so big. You'd love it here. It's hot like Palaven, but without the humidity." A pinch in her heart made made it difficult to breathe.
"You can see the sky where you are? Damn, guess I need to plan a vacation."
"I don't think anyone in the entire galaxy is planning a vacation right now, love."
"You're right. But a man can dream."
The faint rumble of a turian's voice emerged from the background. The voice was short and gruff.
"Just a second Shepard." Garrus silenced the line for a moment. "Listen, I've gotta go. We'll talk again soon? Video next time?"
Imagining him by her side, Shepard stroked her arm. "In person would be better."
"Oh don't do that to me, Circe. You know I can't leave. "
"I know you can't." His words had made her shrink, but she wasn't about to let it show. "You realize it's been nine months now? A woman could pop out a whole human baby in that time."
"A whole one? What, instead of half of one? What exactly are you trying to say, Shepard?"
Shepard laughed. "Nothing, just that I miss you. I could really use one of those turian headbutts right now."
"Heh, me too. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. You know that, right?"
"Mmmm." The words I need you teetered at the end of her tongue, like a diver poised at the edge of a cliff. But what awaited her in those waters was dark and disorienting. If she said the words, who knew where it would end.
"I'll talk to you—" The line was silent again.
"Garrus?" A discordant volley of gunfire broke the silence, coming through her audio at full volume and echoing through the orchard. "Garrus!"
"Shit! Talk—I love—"
The channel went dead.
Song: "Hindsight" - Built to Spill
Hindsight's giving me / Too much memory /There's too much never seen / But it's always there because it's everywhere
Thing with getting up / Feels like giving up / Feels like not enough / You eat a crumb and waste a loaf
What about Canada? / What about Canada? / This paradise /Of pines and ice
We'll wait 'til the wild has rights, then never lock doors at night / And kiss all those wars goodbye
Author's notes: If you don't see a new update in the next 2-3 weeks, it's because I'm working on James' story. That story needs to be completed before I move on.