Awakening

Chapter Two

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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.

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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.

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Garrus took her to the one person on the station who might be able to help. "Doctor Solus would never say so, but he's definitely ex-STG," Garrus said, keeping pace with Shepard's slower steps as they made their way to the clinic. "And he knows everything there is to know about anatomy."

"I hope so," Shepard said with a brittle smile. To Garrus, she seemed fragile compared to her usual self. He was used to seeing her always strong, in command. Usually in armor. Today she was wearing a set of civilian clothes donated by Butler's wife Nalah. Butler had arrived the morning following their discovery of Shepard with two bags full of things that Nalah thought their new guest might need. Though Butler swore up and down that he didn't tell Nalah who they had found, the woman's kind heart wouldn't let her go on without sending what she could for someone who had nothing. And thank goodness for Nalah, because the Archangel team's resident human female, Weaver, was an oddity who rarely left her bunker and owned maybe three sets of clothes and probably a hairbrush, though no one was really sure.

Garrus vowed that he wouldn't let another day pass without getting Shepard some armor and weapons of her own. He didn't like her traveling the station unprotected. Garrus had a second set of armor that he wore on outings like this one, when he didn't want to be recognized as Archangel. Mordin's clinic was in Blue Suns territory, a place Archangel wouldn't want to appear without his team and a plan.

When they finally got in to see Mordin, he immediately started babbling away at Shepard. "Ah! Cybernetic implants! How interesting. And skin regrowth, seems unfinished. Should still be under doctor's care!"

"Doctor Solus." Garrus interrupted him. "I found her sedated in a shipping crate. Neither of us know what happened to her or how she got those cybernetics you mentioned, particularly considering we're both fairly certain she died two years ago. We're hoping you can do a few scans and figure out what was done to her."

Mordin took this in, blinking, and turned to look at Shepard. "Commander Shepard," he breathed. "Yes, yes, declared dead. Spaced, the news vids said."

"They didn't lie," she said, crossing her arms defensively. "It's the last thing I can remember until I woke up yesterday."

"Fascinating!" Mordin said, with a dangerously large smile "Lay down now, must do tests."

While Mordin ran his tests, Garrus thought back to the previous evening. Shepard, though still shaken, insisted on coming out for dinner and meeting the team. She'd put up a good front as she thanked them for their rescue and ignored their curiosity about why she had needed said rescue. And when night came, and Garrus tried to chivalrously give up his bed for her to sleep in, she'd protested.

"Stay with me," she'd said. "Please?"

He had never been able to deny her anything.

He'd seen her down before, like after Kaidan's death on Virmire or when they stole the Normandy out from under the Council. But he'd never seen her this vulnerable, and it was bringing out protective feelings in him. He'd seen her as almost invincible before. He knew better now. Whatever had happened to Shepard… no one would ever hurt her again if he had anything to say about it.

When he'd laid down facing her, their hands barely touching, she relaxed and fell asleep immediately. He, on the other hand, had laid awake for hours longer, just watching her in disbelief. He'd dreamed for two years of finding her alive. Dreamed over and over again that he'd saved her somehow or it was all a big mistake. This was one scenario he'd never imagined. Still… he didn't dare close his eyes, for fear she might be gone when he woke.

"Bodily reconstruction. Fascinating!" Mordin's excitement burst through Garrus's reverie.

"You're finished, doctor?" Garrus asked, walking to Shepard's side.

"Yes. Start at top. Skull shows signs of healed fractures. Brain shows residual effects of oxygen starvation and physical trauma. Healing aided by nanobots. Repaired fracture in vertebrae six and seven, multiple breaks in arms and hands. Bones reinforced with heavy bone weave. Several organs appear regrown. All share original DNA, no donor organs. Skin regrowth ongoing, incomplete. Nerve and joint damage in legs not completely repaired, complicated by some cybernetic rejection. Fascinating study! Never seen such extensive reconstruction!"

With a mildly disturbed look, Shepard said, "So someone rebuilt me from whatever was left, and they didn't quite finish the job. Is that what you're saying?"

Mordin sniffed. "Close enough."

"Thank you, doctor," she said. "Is there anything you can do for my legs?"

"Must study scans. Will send message if can help you." He had already turned away, working at a console.

Shepard took a deep breath, sliding off the hospital bed to stand. Garrus didn't miss the disappointment in her eyes, but neither commented on it.

"Are you up for a little shopping trip?" he asked, once they were outside the clinic.

"What for?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"Well, you need armor, weapons, an omni-tool… anything Nalah didn't send."

Her eyes lit up at the mention of armor, and she looked a bit more like the Shepard he had known.

Her brow creased suddenly. "But Garrus," she said, "I don't have any money."

"Let me take care of that," he said.

"I'd rather take care of myself," she muttered, but Garrus took her arm and stopped her.

"Shepard, how many times did you upgrade my armor or give me new weapons during the Saren mission?"

She understood his point immediately, but… "That was with funds recovered from the mission," she argued.

"And where do you think my funds come from?"

She sighed. "But you were a part of that mission, Garrus. You earned everything I gave you. At least let me pay you back later."

"Once you're back on your feet, you can fight with us and pay me back that way," he said, then realized he was making assumptions. He scrambled to correct himself. "I mean, you can stay and help if you want to, but you don't have—" He paused. "Why are you smiling?"

Her smile widened. "It's nice to see you haven't completely changed while I was gone. And yes, I'd be happy to help your team." With that, she turned and kept walking and he had to rush to catch up. Still, he felt lighter. Something inside him unwound to see her smiling.

…

Miranda Lawson had never been so furious in her life. She'd devoted everything she had to bringing back Commander Shepard… who was now missing. Project Lazarus had been destroyed from within.

At least the betrayer is dead, she thought, looking down at Wilson's corpse. She'd killed him as soon as she got the information she needed. Blue Suns, working for the Collectors.

In handing Shepard to the Collectors, he couldn't have done a better job betraying their mission than if he'd tried. And he hadn't really tried that hard, to be honest. All he really cared about was getting paid. Sticking it to Miranda and Cerberus was only a bonus. It didn't matter to him who was paying for Shepard.

She tried to smooth her hair, knowing her next step was to brief the Illusive Man. She only hoped he'd be forgiving enough to let her complete the next stage of the mission—the search for Shepard. Hopefully the Blue Suns hadn't handed Shepard over to the Collectors yet. Or else this mission might be a total loss.

Brushing some invisible grime off her shoulders, she stepped over Wilson's corpse and headed into the comm room.

…

Things returned to normal for Archangel's squad. They planned and executed operations with their usual efficiency. They spent their downtime playing cards or video games, at the firing range, or puttering around the base.

And then, every night, Garrus would lay down beside a woman he thought he'd never see again.

His team assumed they had a romantic relationship. Garrus wasn't quite sure what to think himself. Their relationship had changed. It wasn't the friendship they had back on the Normandy. Shepard relied on him in a way he'd never seen her rely on anyone before. And he valued that trust. Treasured it more than anything. The touched more than before. Talked more. Flirted a little. But there was still a line they hadn't crossed.

Shepard stood in the rifle range Garrus had constructed in the basement of the base. Today they were shooting sniper rifles as Garrus had convinced Shepard she needed to practice some new ways to fight.

Mordin hadn't gotten back to her yet about helping her legs. They had improved from her first day up, but she wouldn't be running around the battlefield anytime soon. And what's more, they'd discovered she was lacking a biotic implant. The port was there, but it had been upgraded to now require an L5, which was a brand new model out of reach for a vigilante group on Omega. She'd taken the news with grace, but Garrus could see how all the changes were wearing on her. He thought that getting back into practice fighting would help her, even if she had to learn a few new methods.

"I know how to hold a rifle, Garrus," she said, brow cocked at him.

Garrus shook his head. "I spent months with you on the Normandy and never saw you use anything but a pistol and a shotgun. So forgive me if I assume you're out of practice."

The corner of her lips curved up enough for him to know he was forgiven. "Alright, master sniper. Teach me your ways."

He chuckled. "Okay. First, you need to adjust your grip. You're holding it like an assault rifle. This has to be more careful and precise. It requires a lighter hand." He came up behind her, reaching around her to adjust her hold. "That's better," he said in her ear, and she shivered slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asked suddenly, concerned. He'd been, perhaps, overly solicitous of her needs since she'd been found, but Shepard didn't really mind.

She tried not to blush. "I'm fine. Which target do you want me to aim for?"

He indicated a target about halfway down the range. She rolled her eyes. "I can do better than that."

He smirked. "Hit this one and we'll see."

She grinned. "Oh, it's on, Vakarian." She adjusted the rifle in her arms as he showed her and aimed.

"Wait," he said, stopping her. "You're too tense." He ran his hand down her arm, shaking her elbow a bit. "You need to relax. The gun isn't your enemy. Stop trying to conquer it and let it be a part of you."

"Okay, let's try that again," he said, backing away to observe her stance. Much better.

She fired, hitting the target, but frowned—it wasn't quite dead center, like she'd hoped.

"You're pulling the trigger too hard," Garrus said. "It's throwing your aim slightly off-course. Not enough to matter in close quarters, but it will matter here."

"Shit," Shepard said, getting a new heat sink. "I thought I was a good shot."

"You are," he said. "But you can always be better. Try again. Gentle on the trigger and be mindful of your breathing."

He stepped forward again as she aimed, making some slight adjustments to her stance. "Go ahead."

This shot was dead on. Shepard smiled. "Time for the further target?"

He chuckled. "Practice makes perfect, Beth. Hit center ten times, then move to the further one."

She sighed. "Such a slave driver."

Despite how she'd introduced herself to Butler, Shepard had quickly realized it was best not to be explicit about her identity. Her name was famous throughout Citadel space and among humans all over. It might not be safe to reveal herself. To the rest of the squad, she's only introduced herself as Elizabeth, no last name. It was common enough on Omega. Everyone here was running from something.

It had been a bit of an adjustment for Garrus, who had to stop himself from calling her "Shepard" or "Commander" more than once. He'd finally settled on Beth, the nickname her family had once called her. The rest of the team called her Liz.

At the firing range, Garrus watched her make shot after shot, still marveling that she was here with him.

…

Shepard stole looks over her shoulder when her turian friend wasn't looking.

Garrus had changed.

She'd always liked and respected his tenacity, but there had been truth to his superior's reports that called him a "young hothead". He wasn't anymore.

There was something coldly tactical now about the way he planned his operations. There was a fresh maturity in the way he treated his team, and the way he treated her. Not that he didn't still get flustered sometimes. It was one of her favorite pastimes, trying to make him blush. Every now and then she could see the hint of blue rising on the unplated hide of his neck.

But it used to be easier.

She was different too. In a way, none of this seemed real. She didn't feel like Commander Shepard anymore. She didn't know if she could be that person again. Now that she'd begun to remember it, she dreamed all the time of choking on nothing, falling to a pretty blue planet below. It frightened her. How or why was she back? No one could survive being spaced.

She was stalling, staying here. Avoiding having to go back to being Commander Shepard. But what would the Alliance do anyway? Bench her because she couldn't run? Lock her away as some kind of science experiment? Deny that she was Shepard at all?

No. Better to stay here with Garrus. At least for now.

…

Liara T'soni had never been so furious in her life. She had never hated herself so much nor felt so jaded. She had been a fool to hope, and now things were worse than ever.

Cerberus had lost Shepard.

Liara had been the one to give them the body, in hope that they would bring her back. And, to their credit, they had tried. But she should have known better than to trust and organization like Cerberus. There should have been no surprise that such an organization would have traitors in their midst, the kind of people who would go straight to the highest bidder.

She knew better now, would do better next time she was asked to trust. And Cerberus? They would pay.

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