Awakening

Chapter One

Shepard is stolen out from under Cerberus's nose before they can wake her. The warring factions who still want her body lead her right to Omega… and Garrus. Shepard/Garrus.

Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to Bioware.

Garrus wasn't sure what the Blue Suns had delivered to this warehouse, but whatever the cargo, it was a huge payday for them. He'd been hearing chatter about this since Erash had broken through the merc group's latest comm encryptions.

For over a year now, Garrus had been hearing murmurs about the collectors, a reclusive group of aliens that had previously been little heard from and little thought about. But lately, there had been rumors and sightings. The collectors hadn't been so active in decades, and it was enough to make his plates itch, especially after Sovereign's attack on the Citadel two years ago.

And now Garrus had a chance to do his own investigating. This cargo the Blue Suns were so protective of? Well, their clients were the collectors. In Garrus's mind, this was a two-for-one deal. Sabotage a lucrative contract for the Suns and find out a little about what the collectors were up to.

"Sensat, I'm in position. Detonate the explosives," he said into his comm.

"Yes, boss," was the salarian's quick reply. A few moments later, several large explosions rocked the warehouse district, panicking the guards. They were deep in the heart of Blue Suns territory. Despite how Archangel's team had terrorized them, they thought this location was safe. When one of the guards left to investigate the noise, Garrus quickly executed a silent takedown on the one left behind. He hadn't been one of the top-ranked hand-to-hand experts in the turian military for nothing.

Garrus didn't worry about the guard or any others headed towards the explosion. They were going straight into a well-prepared kill zone Garrus's team had set up. If all went according to plan, the mercs would all go down clean.

He began hacking into the lock with the splice Weaver had designed. It worked perfectly, allowing him in without a single alarm being triggered.

He slipped into the room, weapon at the ready. His visor showed a heat signature still inside. It hadn't seemed to react to the explosions.

Taking a quick account of the space, he realized that the heat signature was coming from the crate in the center of the room. It was the cargo he had come for.

It wasn't unheard of to traffic slaves in crates, but this was just one. Slaves were usually shipped in dozens at minimum. What one slave could be worth this much money and trouble? Carefully scanning the room one more time, Garrus stepped over to the crate and began to pry it open. In his wildest dreams, he could not have imagined what would be inside. He would recognize that face anywhere.

"Shepard," he gasped. Curled on her side, face smooth and expressionless, she looked as if she was in a peaceful sleep. Her red hair, longer than he remembered, fanned out around her head. There was medical equipment, too, monitoring her vitals, and an IV feeding something into her veins. His mandibles fluttered a bit at the sight of her naked body. Whoever had put her here hadn't even given her the dignity of clothing.

He carefully pulled the IV out, hoping that stopping the drugs would wake her, and continued to study Shepard. She looked… different. Her skin was paler, with fewer of those freckle things dotting it than he remembered. The old scars he recalled were gone, replaced with new ones. The new scars were strange, little jagged cuts in her skin with angry orange glowing through. And that was when reality hit.

Shepard had gone down with the Normandy almost two years ago. She'd been spaced. No one could survive that.

Her body was never recovered, his mind whispered, but he ruthlessly shut that thought down. That kind of hope had only hurt him before. He couldn't let it take hold now, not until he was sure.

"Boss?" came a voice in his ear.

"Report, Sidonis," he said curtly, still staring down at the woman in the crate.

"All clear out here," the turian replied. "Have you secured the cargo?"

"Yes, but there are… complications." More than they can imagine.

"Do you need backup?" came a feminine voice, sounding worried.

"Negative, Mierin. Stay outside and keep an eye out for anyone else arriving. I need time."

He could feel the curiosity of his squad pressing in, but he wasn't ready to answer their questions. He had too many of his own.

Garrus could see that Shepard's vitals were changing. Stopping the drugs must have worked. She was waking up. He took off his helmet, setting it down on the floor. If she was really Shepard, she would recognize him. Or could that be programmed into a clone? Into an advanced AI? She seemed real, but… how could he trust this? How could he know?

There was movement now, shifting. He approached slowly, one hand straying guiltily towards his pistol just in case. Even in his caution, he positioned himself so that she would see him when her eyes opened. A familiar face to wake to.

He felt his heart racing along with hers as her eyelids fluttered. The moment of truth.

Her eyes opened, revealing familiar blue-grey irises and an unfamiliar look of confusion as she focused on him. "Garrus?" she asked cautiously, wincing as she stretched out her muscles and sat up slowly.

"Beth?" he responded in kind.

She stilled, giving him a suspicious look. "You don't call me that. No one's called me that since my parents died."

"Spirits," Garrus said, the tension sliding out of him. "It is you, isn't it?"

"Garrus, where are we? What's going on?" she asked, her eyes darting around as if looking for threats.

"One more question," he said. Then he would let it rest. "What was the last thing you said to me in the docking bay on the Citadel?"

She blinked at him in surprise, but seemed to take his question seriously. "I said… I said that if you got tired of the red tape again, I had a tank that would probably need repairing. And you said—"

"With your driving, that's inevitable, Commander," he finished for her, his throat constricting. And with that, he lost all pretense of staying grounded, of holding back from hope. In an uncharacteristic move, he moved forward and pulled Shepard into a hug, cradling her tight against his armor. He buried his face in her hair, drawing in her scent. Spirits. He couldn't believe it.

"Garrus?" she asked, muffled against his shoulder.

"Yes?" he replied, still holding her.

"Where are my clothes?"

He let go as if she was on fire, backing away with a blue flush rising on his neck. He shuffled nervously, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to explain all of this. In the end he said, "This is Omega. I don't know why you're here or how. You were in that crate." He motioned to it. "This is a Blue Suns warehouse. So we need to get moving, more of them could arrive at any time."

"I have a lot more questions," she admitted. "But I'll save them for when we're safe."

Garrus gave her a nod and tapped his comm. "Butler, how's it looking out there?"

"All clear, boss, but we're starting to hear chatter," said the human. "Reinforcements will be here soon. Are we ready to head out? Do you need help with the cargo?"

"There's a guard outside the door. Drag him in. He has something I need." He figured Butler was a good choice, as a human and a married man. He didn't want to stress Shepard any more than necessary at the moment. Spirits only knew what had been done to her.

They didn't have to wait long before a stocky human came through the door, dragging the corpse of the Blue Suns guard Garrus had killed.

"Special delivery," Butler said glibly, before looking up and seeing Shepard. "Holy shit."

Ignoring her nakedness, she approached. "Elizabeth Shepard," she said, sticking out a hand to shake. "I was the cargo, apparently."

Butler grasped her hand in a daze. "I know who you are," he said. "I thought you were dead!"

"Dead?" Shepard echoed, frowning in confusion as she dropped Butler's hand. She looked at Garrus.

"Not now, Shepard," he said, forcing himself to stay calm. Does she even remember what happened to the Normandy? he wondered. Spirits, he hoped he wouldn't have to tell her.

He started stripping the armor from the guard. "Here," he said, passing the undersuit over. "I know it won't really fit, but it's all we have for now."

Once she'd managed to get into the undersuit, rolling up the arms and legs to fit her, Garrus handed her his pistol. "Just in case," he said, and she nodded her understanding.

"Team, we're on our way out," he said into the comm, after securing his own gear. "The cargo was a human female. She'll be coming out with us. I want you to defend her with your life."

Even through the armor, he could feel her hand slam down on his arm. "I don't need protecting," she said, eyes blazing. "Did you forget who I am?"

He covered his hand with one of hers. "You may be Commander Shepard, but you also just came out from sedation for spirits know how long, with your body covered in a bunch of mysterious scars. I'm not taking any chances with your life."

Her grip loosened. "Alright," she conceded. "Lead the way… boss." Her eyes held a spark of the teasing look he used to know so well.

They wound through the station through back streets and alleys, taking out a few mercenary patrols along the way. They always took a lengthy and circuitous route back to the base to avoid being followed. Archangel was a recognizable figure these days, and a hated one.

They continued without incident for a while until Shepard stumbled, nearly falling into Garrus. "You alright?" he asked, a little worried.

"There's something wrong with my legs," she said in a tight voice. "My knees, they're not… they're not working right!" Her voice was rife with frustration.

"We'll be back at the base soon, and you can rest," he said. "For now, hang onto me." He held out his arm and she took it grudgingly. His worry only grew as they finished their trek back to the base. She was stumbling more, leaning on him heavily with an unsteady gait. When he glanced at her face, he saw how she was straining, the small winces of pain she tried to hide. He was awash with relief when they finally reached the base's back door.

His team scattered to their own pursuits as they went inside, not without a few sideways looks and whispers. Garrus pointedly ignored them as he took Shepard to his bedroom and helped her to a chair. She couldn't hold back a groan of relief as she got off her feet. As the pain receded, she looked around the room, examining her surroundings. It was spartan, just a small room containing little more than a bed, chair, dresser, and weapon bench.

Garrus sat down on the bed across from her. "I'll answer any questions I can," he said quietly. "And I might have a few of my own."

"I'm not sure where to start," she said with a small laugh, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I think during your babbling earlier you said we're on Omega?"

"Right," he agreed.

"And I'm here because someone put me in a box and shipped me here," she said, sounding skeptical.

Garrus shrugged. "I've been hearing about the Blue Suns moving some important cargo for the collectors. I didn't know it would be you."

"And you don't know where they got me from?" she asked.

"No, I was just trying to disrupt their operations and figure out what the collectors were up to," he said. "I'll be looking into it now, though." So many new questions were raised, now that he knew Shepard had been the Blue Suns' precious cargo.

"But what are you doing here, Garrus?" she asked. "Is this some kind of C-Sec or spectre training thing?"

Garrus's mandibles fluttered. "That's a very long story. I…" He sighed. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up in that crate?"

She frowned. "The Normandy was sent out to hunt down pockets of geth," she murmured. "But…" Her eyes widened and her breathing became more rapid. "The Normandy!" She looked at him, eyes wild. "The Normandy went down! The crew—"

"Most survived," Garrus said quickly, leaning forward so that he could grasp her hand. "Tali, Liara, and Ashley were fine. The only officer who died was Pressly. There were some crewmen who were killed, but I don't know all of their names. I'm sorry."

She barely reacted to him taking her hand as she lost herself in the memories. "Joker wouldn't leave the ship," she whispered. "I went to get him. That strange dreadnought was blasting the Normandy apart. I got him into the escape pod, but… the blast threw me too far away." Garrus listened in silent horror, his fingers tightening around hers.

"I was floating away when I realized my O2 was breached. I remember the burning in my chest. A blue planet below me, just the color of your eyes. The stars around me, burning brighter than the pain in my lungs…" Her dreamlike words were belied by her gasping breaths and fist clenched to her chest.

"Shepard!" He squeezed her hand. "Please."

She turned her eyes on him with a lost expression that looked foreign in her familiar face. "Garrus… how long has it been?"

He could never deny her anything she asked, never not answer her questions, even when it hurt. "That was almost two years ago."

Her breathing turned into short gasps. Garrus checked his visor readout to see if it had captured her heartbeat. It was far too fast. He stood quickly, scooping her up and laying her on his bed before she could pass out. He sat down beside her, taking one of her hands and putting it against his armored keel bone.

"Breathe with me, Shepard," he said, taking deep and long breaths that made his plates rise and fall in a slow rhythm she could feel. His other hand came up to gently cup the side of her face. "Look at me and breathe."

He kept his pace of slow and steady breaths until she matched him. When he released her hand, she never moved it from his chest.

"Garrus, I don't understand," she said finally. "I know I should be dead."