Chapter Text
EDI repeats the setting for her.
She remains under the desk.
Shepard can still do this without Garrus. Shepard can. Shepard can do anything.
Shepard can do anything as long as it means the Reapers die.
Not having Garrus in her corner throws a whole damn toolbox in the works, but Shepard can do it. Even if she can’t. Besides, Garrus will still fight the Reapers. He knows they need to be stopped; he agrees with her on that at least. Shepard still has his tactician mind and his sniper rifle.
She just doesn’t have his shoulder to lean on anymore.
Even though he said— after Horizon— after Kaidan—
She went and fucked it all up and now Shepard has to put the pieces back together. Like always. Shepard’s giving him space. Letting him accept that Sidonis is still walking around with his soul still attached to his body. And he’s definitely taking the space and more. No more card games, progress reports are only digital, no more gear maintenance together, no sparring.
But it’s okay. Garrus will be better off because of this, whether he agrees or not. She still cares for him, and that’ll be enough. Everyone else is gonna have to be enough. To fill the role that Garrus has in her life.
Shepard doubts it.
EDI repeats the setting again.
She remains under the desk.
Garrus’ depressed acceptance on the Citadel swings around to incredulous anger five days after the fact.
It’s to be expected really, he calls himself a hothead and Shepard pushed him to talk to her, so that they can still work together at least.
“You are such a hypocrite!” is how he explodes on her.
“Garrus—”
“I had him! He was right there, in my sights, ready and willing to die. And you had to go and talk.”
Garrus has never growled at her like this, has never gotten in her face like this, has never loomed over her like this. Yet, he’s the pinnacle of the scary alien turian the Alliance’s propaganda machine printed out. He should be collecting royalties for the rest of his life.
“Killing Sidonis wouldn’t have given you the absolution you crave.” Garrus knew the man, he was only going to add another grave onto his shoulders.
“I was avenging my team!”
“You can’t let ghosts dictate your life—”
“Why not? You do!”
“Do not—”
“Every damn decision of yours is governed by a civilization, a species, that you aren’t even a part of! At least I knew my ghosts.”
She steps closer. “Don’t bring that thing into this!”
“Why not?” his arms flail out. “You bring it into everything! So, pray tell Shepard, how does me not killing Sidonis factor into your master plan?”
“Because when I fail, you—” she shoves at his keel, making him stumble back several steps, “—carry it on! You! You can save the galaxy the proper way. You’re supposed to be better than me, you all are! Why do you think we had those talks on the SR-1, why I kept talking to you when we were hunting down Harkin? Why I talked with everybody!?” Now that she’s started, it all comes flowing out of her like she exploded a dam.
“I was always going to die, Garrus! I’m still going to. I wanted—still want—to make sure y’all were set when I went. And the others—they turned out fine—” sort of, “—but you? I failed you, Garrus. You ended up half dead on Omega with three different merc gangs vying for your head and if it weren’t for me, you would be dead!
“Have you thought about that? Because I have. And it terrifies me that if it weren’t for Liara and Cerberus breaking the laws of the goddamn universe you would be! Dead, gone, no hope of reanimation for you. I don’t want you going down that path again so yeah, I stopped you.
She steps away, running a hand through her hair. “Fucking hell, Garrus, you always say you’re a bad turian, but you’re such a good person. You can be such a great one. I can envision it.” By the end of her rant, she’s panting, and Garrus is standing stock still, mandibles slack. Shepard draws herself up as much as she can. “I won’t apologize for stopping you. Try all you want to ruin yourself, but I’m not gonna let you. I’m not gonna let you be me.”
The ship hums around them in the battery. For a moment, she flashes back to an eerily similar conversation they had in the elevator after Horizon. When she figuratively stabbed herself with a knife and eviscerated herself for him to see— to understand the type of pressure she’s under, why she does all she does. If Kaidan couldn’t see—one of her longest friends—then she could make Garrus see. Here she is, doing it all over again.
The red light of the battery makes the grated floor glint red, like she physically spilled her guts.
“Is that really how you see yourself?”
“…What? That’s what you’re taking away from—”
“Shepard—”
“You were there when I made all those calls. The credits, the Queen, the murders. I’m a hero by happenstance, not because I actually am one.”
Garrus is sniper posed, silent and still and never looking away from his target. She realizes she finally said that secret out loud for the first time.
“You didn’t fail me, Shepard. I failed you.” She scoffs. “No, I did. You’re right, I fucked off to be a vigilante in the one of the worst places to be one. I gave myself a suicide mission and didn’t try to stay alive. You gave me a lot of chances, and I threw it away. And here you are, giving me another one.”
“I told you; I’m not giving up on you.”
Garrus smiles and something loosens in her chest. “I’m not giving up on you either.” He raises his wrist, shimmies it a little. The three bracelets on it jingle. Hers is right at the top. His bracelet for her is also on the same wrist. She hasn’t taken it off since she got it. “I’ve been marked for life you see.”
They move together, as one, and hug, folding into each other as easily as they always do.
“I don’t like it when we argue,” she murmurs into his keel, safe there.
“Neither do I.”
There’s a hum in Garrus’ keel, and she presses herself closer to the warmth and soothing vibrations.
“I don’t know how you do it, Shepard,” he states into her hair, arms hugging her that much tighter. “Living life knowing you’re walking towards death with every step.” What the hell does she say to that? “I guess that’s the thing, you’re not living it.”
With Garrus’ arms still around her, she doesn’t lean back to look at him or try to conjure up some sort of defense against this.
“You said I’m searching for absolution. What are you searching for?”
KILL THEM.
He already knows that answer. She gives him hers.
“Freedom.”
Garrus hugs her tighter, and as always better with actions than words, she hears what he doesn’t say.
I’ll give you it.
Outside the battery and down the gangway, Jack stands at the fridge, eating shredded cheese by the handful from the bag. She takes one look at Shepard and cocks an eyebrow at whatever she sees. Shepard doesn’t bother to try and mask; a weight has been lifted from her chest, no more cold coil winding around her heart anymore.
“You and birdman make up?”
Dryly, she responds, “yeah, we did.”
“Thank fuck for that. You two moping is worse than you and Kal pining. I was about to lock you in a closet.”
Shepard sidesteps the pining comment for her own sanity. “Well, I thank you for your restraint.”
“I do listen to you sometimes.”
“I’m very proud.” She takes a handful of cheese as well and continues on to the lounge.
Once there, she plops down on the couch next to Kal. He’s got his tablet in his lap while Kasumi teaches Tali bartender tricks, silver shaker flying through the air.
“It go well?” he asks, hand still smoothly sketching a rough outline of a Tornado shotgun. He’s doing it from memory.
“Yeah, we’re back together again.”
Kal snorts, bumps their shoulders together, meeting her eyes. “I told you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I was worrying for nothing.”
He’s the one that talked her down the most. She still practically had a three-day long anxiety attack, but she thankfully didn’t do anything stupid. Even though this was a catastrophic event.
She slouches further against the couch, making it so her neck is cradled by the back of it. This is probably what Chakwas would call progress. She didn’t drink herself into a stupor nor did she hurt herself. Just went hermit mode. Not that bad, really.
“I don’t think anything will be able to get between you and Garrus.”
“Joker does call us ride or die.”
Kal chuckles. “Yeah, exactly that. He’d do anything for you.” A knee bumps into hers and stays there. “And I know it’s the same for you.”
Well, Shepard did die for her crew, so that’s obvious— of course she’d do anything. She bumps their knees again. They stay pressed together afterwards as well. “Thanks, Kal.”
“Anytime, Shep. You know that.”