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She rode into consciousness on a wave of pain. Her lips parted to let out a moan, but no sound emerged from her parched throat. With an effort she managed to crack open her eyes, finding the room mercifully dim. She could see little from her vantage point but an unremarkable ceiling and a faint blue glow coming from somewhere on her right. She tried to turn her head towards the light, but her efforts were rewarded only with pain. Her heart sped up incrementally as she tested her other muscles. Her mind felt sluggish. Her body didn’t respond to any of her attempts at movement. Was she bound, drugged, or injured? How did she get here? Was she in danger? The blue glow shifted. An asari, datapad in hand, leaned over her with a scowl. “Where’s the damn doctor?” she snapped over her shoulder. There was a distant reply, but she couldn’t make out the words. Blood rushed in her ears. Her lungs burned. Everything felt strange, like floating and drowning all at once. She tried to speak, to protest, to move, but her body was unresponsive. All she could do was stare up at the asari, facial markings contorting in a frown. Something within her was telling her not to trust this woman. The asari disappeared, replaced with a salarian. Soon she was drifting, her pain ebbing away along with her consciousness. She clawed at reality, but it slipped through her fingers, as elusive as the remnants of a dream. She didn’t know where she was or who her captors were, but there was one thought that solidified in the back of her mind. She was supposed to be dead. … The second time awareness came for her, it was not with the force of the tides but the gradual light of a sunrise. This time, she turned her head. Her eyes fell from that unremarkable ceiling to an unremarkable room, its single occupant watching her with critical eyes. The asari flicked her eyes back to her datapad as if her waking patient was of no interest at all. “Nice of you to finally join us, Shepard,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She stared at the asari uncomprehending. “Who the hell is Shepard?” … She was Shepard. The name itself was meaningless, until the asari began to explain what that name represented. She wove a tale of soldiers and monsters, a war—a woman—that united a galaxy. A smile played on her painted lips at Shepard’s disbelief. When she tired of answering questions, the asari left Shepard alone in bed, her mind a pain-blurred jumble of facts and questions. Not memories, though. Never memories, just a black hole where her life was supposed to be. All inside her was darkness, and everything she knew came from the asari she could not trust. … The asari’s lackeys—even the doctor seemed to scramble to do her bidding—had told her they were on Earth. She knew what Earth was, but she didn’t know how she’d gotten there or if she’d ever visited it before. No sunshine came in the window, but no starlight either. Just the dull gray of clouds and smog, the still-burning fires of Earth, so they said. They said many things. They said she saved the galaxy, came within an inch of death, and had been in a coma for a matter of months. Somehow, she found it difficult to believe anything they said. Getting answers elsewhere didn’t appear to be an option. She couldn’t fight, she couldn’t walk—she couldn’t even sit up in bed on her own. She was as helpless as an infant, left to the mercy of this sarcastic asari and her skittish salarian doctor. At least no one here had tried to kill her, she thought, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why that seemed strange. … A month into her recovery, she was taking slow walks through the house with the aid of a cane. She’d confirmed that it was indeed a house—she should know, having explored every inch of it—one that appeared to be on Earth according to the views outside the windows. She hadn’t been outside herself. The doctor had forbade her going alone, and she was inexplicably uncomfortable accepting the offer made by one of the asari’s batarian lackeys. She contented herself with the indoors and a litany of questions the asari occasionally deigned to answer. Two months into her recovery, the extranet returned. She watched the news vids hungrily, taking in every scrap of the outside world. Her name came up often, the great hero Commander Shepard presumed killed in action. A galaxy mourned. She wondered if she should make herself known, but she still wasn’t convinced about her identity in the first place. She certainly didn’t think she looked much like the bright-eyed marine whose photo they showed on the vids. With her scars, shorn hair, and atrophied limbs, she looked more like a corpse than a soldier. At three months she went outside on her own. After yet another meal of rations and long day of boredom, she asked the asari for some seeds to plant her own garden. The asari rolled her eyes, but when the next supply shuttle arrived, a bundle of garden tools arrived along with it. The gardening came to her naturally, though she didn’t remember where she learned it. Or anything else, her mind whispered, but she tried not to think of that. Her legs ached and hands trembled, but each day of work ended with a sound night’s rest, free of the strange and shapeless nightmares that usually plagued her sleep. When she could, she wandered further, finding a nearby beach she liked to visit. Some days she would clean away the debris that washed onshore, others she would simply bask in whatever sunlight cut through the haze. In the distance she could spy the shadow of a dead reaper, its insect-like legs sticking up into the sky and filling her with strange, disquieting feelings. Sometimes she would sit on that beach and stare at the far silhouette, waiting for answers that never came. In the twilight hours, someone would find her and bring her back, the house’s windows glowing gold in the oncoming dusk. The asari would complain about the inconvenience, making idle threats about leaving Shepard to fend for herself. Shepard paid no mind to the asari’s words. She was never gone long before someone came looking. “Am I a prisoner here?” she had asked once. The asari had simply laughed, and waved a hand towards the vidscreen. “You’re safe here,” she said. Onscreen, the reporters were talking about her again. They said she was a soldier and a hero. She felt like neither. But sometimes, in the back of her mind, she felt a prickling sensation that she might rather trade her spade and trowel for something heavier. … The news vids were always the same. Riots, recovery projects, feel-good stories, speeches… she’d seen it all a hundred times if she’d seen it once. But then there was something new, something that had her leaning forward in her chair. “That ship,” she said urgently. “There’s something…” She growled at her lack of memory. Her head throbbed. “I know that ship.” Her eyes were locked on the screen as crew disembarked the Normandy SR-2 to a hero’s welcome in London. She followed their images eagerly, certain there was something there. She cursed the angle, the distance of the camera. If she could only see their faces… The asari glanced up, surveying the vid expressionlessly. With a flick of her omni-tool she switched off the screen, ignoring Shepard’s sounds of protest. “Looks like I’ve got a message to send,” she said, and swept out of the room like a queen. ...
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Garrus Vakarian had only been on Earth a matter of hours when he received the message.
Archangel,
I’ve got something important to you. Something you’ll want to take off my hands.
No signature, just a set of coordinates. He’d used his limited hacking skills to discover that the coordinates matched up with the sender’s location, and then he mulled over his options. Who would have called him Archangel—and were they friend or foe? If it was a trap, it was badly laid. There were no instructions to come alone, no threats, no real lure. No reason to go but to satisfy his own curiosity. Shepard would have reamed him out for taking the bait—for going in without backup—for not asking Liara for a thorough threat assessment. But Shepard wasn’t here. He booked the skycar as soon as he could, and disappeared unnoticed into the wastes of the English countryside. … She didn’t look up as the skycar flew over. Another supply run, she assumed, and of little interest to her. Shepard’s focus was on her garden. She pushed the trowel into the dirt, ignoring the small tremble that went through her hands. Fresh vegetables for dinner tonight. Finally. She was so sick of MREs that she was considering a hunger strike. The sound of footsteps caught her attention. Slow and uneven, the hint of a limp. Heavy with the weight of armor. A soldier… Someone new. She raised her eyes, squinting into the sunlight, and wiped her dirty hands on her jeans. “Do I know you?” she asked. Garrus had stopped and stared when he came around the corner to see Shepard kneeling in the dirt beside an old-fashioned front door. She looked different—her hair was unevenly shorn, her skin was marred with scars and bruises, and her clothes hung off an oddly gaunt frame—but it was undoubtedly her. The woman he loved. The woman the Alliance declared dead—alive. Alive and planting a garden. But any pleasure he’d taken from that discovery was stolen in an instant as her words cut right to his core. … Shattered. That’s what she saw in the turian’s eyes the moment she spoke. She didn’t know how to piece him back together, and she was shocked by how badly she wanted to. Something inside her told her to trust him. It told her that he mattered. She clawed into the darkness of her mind for answers, but she returned from that void with nothing but a dizzying headache. They stood in silence. She stared at him. He looked anywhere but her eyes. She had no idea how to fix this, and she hated the not knowing most of all. Her hands formed frustrated fists at her sides, and for a fleeting, surprising moment, she wished desperately for something worthy of being punched. Instead she looked down at her feet, trying to calm the tumult of emotions the turian had raised within her. She looked up to find him watching her. She met his keen blue eyes, blown away by the world of pain she saw inside. It was something she could never know. Not now, not when she had no lifetime of sorrow and joy to draw from. She didn’t remember enough to know loss. The turian took a deep breath, building a wall around himself with the remnants of what she’d broken, and took a step closer, careful not to tread on her garden. He reached out a hand hesitantly, as if she were some skittish animal he feared he might spook. She stayed still as he laid a gloved hand on her arm, finding the weight of it strangely comforting. She stared down at that hand for a long moment before turning her eyes upward, wondering what had changed. He was close to her now, towering over her. She ought to step back. This was a dangerous person, every instinct knew it. Another instinct told her, despite all logic, that this turian would never, ever harm her. She stayed where she was, unable to tear her gaze away from his compelling blue eyes. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” he said gently, the dual tones of his voice vibrating warmly within her. Before she could vocalize her agreement, he was squeezing her arm and moving past as if he already knew her answer. She stared blankly after him, blindsided by this turn of events. She raised her fingers to her arm and shivered, feeling strangely cold. The sound of raised voices pulled her from her reverie. She followed the sound through the open door, crossing the darkened living room to listen at the kitchen archway. “—some kind of sick joke? What did you do to her?” “I rescued her, Archangel. I healed her. I kept her safe. You’re welcome, by the way.” “Her memory…” Silence reigned a moment before the asari answered, “Some things can’t be fixed.” The turian sighed. “Why did you do it, Aria? What do you want?” he asked wearily. The asari’s laugh was chilling. “You think you have anything I want?” She paused. “I owed her a debt,” she said softly. “I don’t like being indebted to anyone.” “Why did you call me here?” he asked. The asari scoffed. “I thought the note was clear.” “Not clear enough.” “I’ve paid my debt,” the asari said scornfully. “She belongs with your little band of heroes, not here with me. I’m sure the Alliance will be happy to know their precious hero is alive.” His voice was strangely quiet. “She doesn’t know me. What if she doesn’t want to go?” Of their own accord, Shepard’s footsteps drew her into the room. Both asari and turian turned to look at her, one set of eyes nervous, the other piercing. She settled her gaze on the turian. “Where will you take me?” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, a surprisingly awkward action for someone so formidable. “Before all of this, you wanted to retire from the military. Somewhere tropical, we said.” “What about that ship?” she asked. “The one from the news vids. It was my ship, wasn’t it?” He shrugged, his hand falling to his side. “That’s also an option.” “I can choose?” His mandibles moved briefly into something she knew was a smile. “Yeah. You can choose.” She turned to the asari. “Did I really know him?” she asked, trying to ignore the wounded look the turian couldn’t hide. Aria snorted. “He was your boyfriend.” Shepard blinked at the strange new information, turning to look at the turian again. She eyed him up and down, taking in the details with renewed interest. He looked like he’d been through hell and back, with his scarred face and damaged hardsuit, and he carried a whole armory on his back like it was nothing. The visor he wore over one eye, even now scrolling with information, bore the evidence of several repair jobs, and from behind it his bright blue eyes gazed at her with a sadness she couldn’t fathom. Even if the asari was lying, she felt in her bones that she could trust him. She had trusted him once, she was sure of it. She took a deep breath. “I want to see my ship.” … Before the turian came, Shepard’s biggest concern was having something for dinner that didn’t come out of a packet. Now the garden lay untended, the tools dropped haphazardly over upturned dirt. Now Shepard stood in her bedroom packing her meager things to leave with a stranger—not a stranger—for a life she didn’t remember living. The suitcase from the closet, a remnant of previous occupants, lay open and empty on the bed. As she turned to it, carrying her odd assortment of possessions, she heard him enter behind her. “Am I really the woman from the vids?" she asked softly, hands busy folding the few pieces of clothing that Aria had given her. Armored steps brought him close behind her. “You have doubts?” She turned around, resting her weight on the edge of the bed. “I don’t look much like her,” she admitted. “Don’t feel much like a hero either.” He gave her that reassuring smile again, but his eyes remained sad. “They’ve been using an old picture in the vids, Shepard. You’ve been through a lot since then.” She paused to take that in, eyes on her turian stranger. She bit her lip. “I hate to ask this, but… I don’t even know your name. Archangel is a nickname of some sort, isn’t it?” “Garrus Vakarian,” he said, his tone measured. “I haven’t gone by Archangel in a long time.” She looked at him cautiously. “May I call you Garrus?” He let slip a sigh. “You always have.” She looked downward, her guilt too heavy to hold his gaze. “Were you there with me?” she asked. “The whole time?” She could see his mandibles flutter at the edge of her vision. “Yeah. The whole time.” She glanced up cautiously. “You came looking for me.” “Aria sent me a message,” he deflected. “But I would have searched anyway.” He shifted slightly, as if he wanted to reach out for her but thought better of it. “I’ll always have your six, Shepard.” A knot tightened painfully in her chest. She turned abruptly to finish packing, feeling for the first time just how much she’d forgotten. …
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The skycar ride was uncomfortably quiet. At first Shepard and Garrus were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to speak, but as the ride wore on they each realized that they had no idea what to say to one another. Garrus’s thoughts were hopelessly jumbled. Before leaving Aria’s, Garrus had called Liara in hopes she could help with the practical aspects of the situation. After a lecture about him disappearing and a quiet gasp of “Oh, goddess,” at the news, Liara stayed calm and took charge of everything. She set to work at quietly telling their closest friends and finding a way to get Shepard onboard the Normandy before the Alliance whisked her away. As the skycar pulled near the docks, he felt Shepard stiffen beside him. He turned to give her a questioning look. “I don’t want to go out there looking like…” She motioned to her unkempt appearance, giving him a wry smile so Shepard that it hurt. “Let me call up a friend,” he managed, thankful for a reason to turn away. “She’ll be able to help you.” Again he dialed up Liara, explaining quickly about Shepard’s predicament. “Yes, of course,” Liara said. “I’ll bring clothes, toiletries, cosmetics…” “Scissors,” Shepard interjected. “For my hair.” Liara paused for a moment, distracted by the unexpected intrusion of Shepard’s voice, then shook herself out of it and typed at her terminal. “I’m sending you the navpoint for my safe house. Meet me there and I’ll have what you need.” Garrus raised a browplate at her. “You found a place here already?” “Please, Garrus,” she said dismissively. “Remember who you’re talking to.” Half an hour later, the skycar pulled up to a nondescript house in a rundown neighborhood. Shepard looked over to Garrus as he set the car down, daring to break the silence a second time. “Garrus, will you help me?” she asked. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. “With names and events and that kind of thing.” “Of course,” he replied, giving her a reassuring smile despite his own anxiety. “We’re about to see Liara T’Soni. You’ve worked together and been friends for several years now. She was a part of your team during the war.” He stopped there, suddenly overwhelmed by the realization of just how much she didn’t know. Spirits, how was he supposed to explain any of this? Did she know her history beyond the war? How much had Aria told her? Only enough to amuse herself, he guessed. Typical Aria. Before they could reach the front door, Liara had it open wide. She gave Shepard that soft smile she was known for and invited the two of them inside. As Garrus closed the door behind them, Liara gathered Shepard into a sudden hug. Shepard stiffened, her eyes going wide and searching his out for reassurance. At his nod, she relaxed into the embrace. Garrus looked away, his limbs tingling with the need to steal Shepard into his own arms instead. For a moment, he slipped into a memory.
A soft pair of lips pressed against his scarred mandible. She pulled back to grin, eyes sparkling. “That’s the protocol on reunions,” she said.
The vids didn’t cover this kind of reunion. Not at all. He glanced back just in time to see Liara pull back from the embrace. “Goddess,” she whispered, studying Shepard’s face. Her eyes shone suspiciously. “It’s so good to see you in one piece.” She released the woman suddenly, her cheeks flushing violet. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have…” “It’s fine, Liara,” Shepard said, reassuring the asari in her calm way. “It’s nice to know I’m cared for, even if I don’t remember.” For a moment, her eyes flicked to Garrus. Garrus waited in Liara’s living room as the asari dragged Shepard off to the shower with an assortment of toiletries and beauty products. He wandered the room as he waited, picking up and studying various items that caught his fancy. The house seemed devoid of valuables—probably looted during the war—but there were tokens of the former occupants scattered about. Liara hadn’t had time to make it her own yet. His visor translated the names of the books on the shelf as he wandered idly by, but he didn’t stop until he saw the face-down photo frame. The glass was shattered when he lifted it, but the image was still intact. A smiling family of four stared back at him, another jarring reminder of how much was lost and changed by this war. He replaced the photo face-down again, setting it back exactly where he found it. Garrus looked up at the sound of footsteps. Liara stood in the doorway watching him with a keen eye. “I have dextro tea,” she said finally. Taking his shrug as a yes, Liara disappeared into the kitchen. After a few more moments of wandering, he followed, glad to watch Liara busy herself with the kettle rather than think about the dead—or about Shepard. Liara stood over him with a mug full of tea and eyes full of sympathy. “Garrus… I’m so sorry.” He reached out for the tea silently, bending his head to breathe in the steam. Loving Shepard, and her remembering nothing… it was hell. But spirits, the pain of this was nothing to the pain of thinking her dead. After a long moment, he looked back up. “She’s alive, Liara,” he said, and his subvocals never wavered. “Yes,” the asari said, voice husky with emotion. “She is.” …
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When Shepard found them in the kitchen after her shower, she was clean, dressed, and even smiling. “Better?” Liara asked, returning Shepard’s smile. She nodded. “Much.” When Liara chased Shepard back to the bedroom and set her in front of the vanity mirror, Garrus quietly followed, sitting on the bed to watch the asari flutter around Shepard with makeup brushes and beauty products. Part of him wanted to laugh at Liara’s fussing, but it was only another expression of sympathy, one more reminder of what had been lost. After Liara had finished waging her war with human cosmetics, she pulled a set of scissors out of her bag. She passed them to Shepard with an apologetic glance. “I don’t know anything about human hair,” she admitted. Shepard shrugged nonchalantly, but Garrus could see how she struggled to hold the scissors steady. A tremor shook her hands, making her hair slip through her fingers. She tried a second time, her eyes as placid as still waters. The third aborted attempt broke through her calm demeanor. “Damn it,” she swore. She glared at the scissors in the mirror, as if she could cow them into submission like she’d done with galactic leaders only months before. Unable to remain quiet in the face of her struggle, Garrus approached. “Let me help,” he said, and both women turned to stare at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, adding, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He did his best to ignore the flash of sadness and understanding that crossed Liara’s face at the admission. He let his focus instead be drawn to the human woman in front of him, wordlessly handing him the scissors and setting herself before him with unerring trust. Garrus reached out with a gloved hand. He’d always loved her hair. It was short and uneven now, burned by fire, shorn away for surgery. Scars bisected her scalp, another reminder of what she’d endured. He pulled a lock of hair straight, shearing carefully below the line of his fingers. He still remembered the first time vividly, when she’d injured her shoulder and couldn’t reach to do it herself. She’d instructed him with a mock glare and a “Don’t you dare mess this up, Vakarian.” It had been her only vanity. She didn’t care about clothes or makeup, wasn’t bothered by her scars. But her hair—her beautiful hair—was her one indulgence. Though there was less of it now to run between his fingers, he was comforted to find it still soft as silk, shining under the light. He set down the scissors and picked up the brush, working it carefully through her short locks. He tucked a stray piece behind her ear as he’d always used to when it fell in her eyes, and he brushed her ear by accident. She drew in a small, sharp breath. He leaned forward to breathe in her scent, feeling like a thief for the stolen moment. Once, those moments had been his for the taking. “All done,” he told her, swallowing back the urge to bury his face in it, to take the comfort she’d always given freely. After a long moment, he met her eyes in the mirror. She smiled. He stumbled out of his chair, his chest tightening in a way he couldn’t explain. As he left the room, he heard Liara offering Shepard something to eat. He stormed through the living room and burst out the front door, drawing in deep breaths that still left him gasping. He looked at the world around him, the world that she’d saved, and thought that it just wasn’t fair. … Shepard stared at the front door. “He’ll be back in a few minutes,” Liara said, smiling apologetically as she urged Shepard to sit at the kitchen table. “This is difficult for him.” Shepard said nothing, her eyes still focused far across the room. No, she thought. Difficult is waking up and not knowing who you are. Difficult is being told you did the impossible and will be expected to do it again. Difficult is hurting everyone who ever loved you because of something outside of your control. She looked up suddenly as the asari—Liara, her old friend, she reminded herself—set a bowl of soup in front of her. “Eat,” Liara said with motherly reproach. She pushed the spoon closer, gazing at Shepard with eyes that seemed far too aware of where her mind had wandered. To humor Liara she took a few spoonfuls, though food was the last thing on her mind. Her eyes flicked back to the front door, unable to shed the image of his pained blue eyes from her mind. “Tell me about him,” she requested. Liara’s drawn-on brows rose. “Garrus?” She hummed thoughtfully. “When you met him, he was a C-Sec officer, investigating the case of a rogue Spectre agent that you were also hunting. He joined your crew, coming back for your mission against the Collectors and later to fight the war alongside you,” she explained. “He is incredibly loyal, to you more than anything. He’s honorable, skilled, stubborn, and occasionally impulsive.” She smiled. “You forgot wickedly handsome and a deadly shot,” Garrus interjected, striding through the door. Shepard looked up, startled, but he swaggered up to the table as if his earlier distress had never happened. “Are you two ready to head to the Normandy?” he asked. Though his question was for the both of them, his eyes settled only on her. Blue and piercing; they seemed to see everything. She felt, somehow, that he could feel her weakness, but there was no judgment there, only kindness. “I’m ready,” she told him, and though there was no waver in her voice, it seemed he knew how hard her heart was pounding. With a short nod, he offered her a hand to help her rise. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, prepared to come face-to-face with the life she’d once led. … To Garrus’s relief, their second skycar ride was not nearly as uncomfortable as the first. Liara endeavored to keep things light, leading both he and Shepard into conversation about the Normandy and its occupants. Shepard listened eagerly, taking in every detail they offered. Nothing was too small for her attention; everything they said was the most important thing in the world. This was how she won over a galaxy, Garrus thought. One conversation at a time. Stepping out of the skycar, Shepard gazed up at the Normandy with an inscrutable expression. Her eyes roved from tip to tail, searching for something—a memory perhaps. Her mouth tightened slightly as she took her first steps, the only giveaway of the disquiet she was feeling. Though it hurt to see her this way, that look was almost comforting in its familiarity. I’m fine, she would say, like she’d always said. Shepard strode through the airlock exuding the confidence of one who owned the place. Garrus almost smiled at the sight—she looked right on the Normandy. She looked at home. Before he could guide her, she turned by instinct towards the cockpit, where their pilot waited to greet them. “Hey, Commander,” Joker said. “Brought your ship back in one piece. Mostly.” A moment later, it became clear that the pilot didn’t know how to talk to Shepard. Though no one discussed it, everyone on the Normandy knew that leaving her on the Crucible was one of the hardest things he’d done. Guilt and relief were mingled in his eyes, but he didn’t know how to express either, not to a woman who didn’t remember him. Not to the woman whose actions saved the galaxy but destroyed the one he loved. Samantha Traynor met them in the CIC with bumbling friendliness and a smile, offering her help with anything Shepard needed. “I’m a bit out of a job now without comms or intel to sort through,” she admitted with a laugh. Shepard smiled and put her at ease so effortlessly that Garrus envied her. They toured the rest of the ship with varying results. All were happy to see Shepard, but most of the crew seemed unsure of how to approach her. Ken Donnelly shook her hand fiercely while Gabby Daniels stood back with tears in her eyes. James Vega and Steve Cortez played a delicate counterpoint, with Cortez’s friendliness picking up the slack when Vega didn’t know how to react, and Vega’s teasing lightening the mood when Cortez was on the verge of tears. Tali held Shepard hands tightly in hers and told her that she would be a friend and sister no matter what she remembered. Chakwas had drawn Shepard into a ferocious hug, surprising them all when she pulled back with tears on her cheeks. “I’ve got a bottle of brandy for us to share,” she said firmly, “and I’ll tell you stories of all the trouble you’ve gotten up to over the years.” They stopped into Liara’s office for a few moments, and then, at long last, Garrus showed her to the main battery. She looked at it with new eyes, as if all his memories of her in that room were nothing but dreams. “If you ever need me for anything, odds are I’ll be here,” he explained. “If not, you can ask E—” He broke off, frowning. “Ask who?” she said cautiously. His mandibles tightened. “The Normandy AI, EDI… I—for a moment I forgot…” He sighed. “We lost her when the Crucible fired. Still trying to figure out if we can bring her back online.” “Oh,” she said quietly and looked down, her lips pressing into a firm line. “I’m sorry.” Garrus reached under her chin and lifted it with a finger, meeting a pair of eyes filled with sympathy and guilt. He looked away. “Let me show you your quarters,” he said. He watched from the doorway as she entered with trepidation, her keen eyes taking in all the details. She walked the whole of the room, stopping to touch only a few things; a photo from the party in Anderson’s apartment; her old N7 helmet; the half-finished ship model that lay untouched on her desk. She turned to look at him, and the distress in her eyes was jarring. “I don’t remember,” she admitted, coming back up the steps. She stopped just short of him, baring her pain in a way that left him breathless. No one else, he thought. No one else would see this. Something still remained of her trust in him, something deep and abiding. His heart swelled to think that even now those emotions were only for him. With a gentle touch he turned her around, guiding her back into the room. This time, he stayed by her side. “It’s okay,” he reassured her, though he, too, had hoped she would find a memory here. His heart ached to think that their first night together was something that he alone would treasure. “And yet…” She took a step beyond him, running her fingers over the bedspread, and looked up to give him a faint smile. “It still feels like home somehow.” Garrus smiled back. “It is,” he said. “Welcome home, Shepard.” …
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Garrus Vakarian woke alone in the main battery. “EDI,” he mumbled. “Status and location of—” He stopped short, remembering anew. Many times since the Normandy’s crash Garrus had woken in his habitual way only to find that there was no one to answer—and until now, no one to ask about, either. He stretched as he stood, rolling out the kinks in his muscles. The cot wasn’t as comfortable as the bed in the loft, but he’d learned during the last few months that this was better than sleeping up there alone, waking to Shepard’s scent and no Shepard. Sometimes he’d dreamed of her beside him, pulling her softness against his angles, tangling his mandibles in her hair. This possibility had never occurred to him—that she might sleep again in their bed without him beside her. Garrus pushed those thoughts away with practiced effort and strode out into the mess hall. From the table several crewmen nodded their greetings and respect; some looked at him with eyes that were a little too sympathetic. He looked away, to Samantha Traynor smiling at him from behind the galley counter. “Good morning, Traynor,” he said. “Have you seen Shepard?” “I don’t think she’s left her quarters,” she told him. “I made tea, though.” She indicated the steaming kettle behind her. He nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ll take some up to her.” Garrus took a mug for Shepard and one for himself—Salarian tea was one of few levo drinks he could stomach—just like he had most mornings during the war. Sometimes it was a quick sip before a mission, other days they lounged in her cabin and took a few precious moments to relax. He wasn’t sure if she’d even want to share this with him now. “Here you go,” Traynor said, passing him the filled cups with a touch of forced enthusiasm. “Good luck with her, Garrus.” He nodded his thanks and turned to go, but not before he saw that damned sympathetic flash in her eyes. When he reached the loft, he knocked at the door. “Shepard?” he called, unsure of his reception. “Come in,” came her muffled reply. She turned from the desk, an unfinished model of a quarian liveship in front of her. She smiled. “Good morning, Garrus.” “I brought your favorite,” he told her, holding out the cup of tea. She stared at him blankly as she took the mug from his hand. “Right. Um. Well, try it. You’ll like it.” He winced as soon as she looked away, cursing his own idiocy. Shepard took a cautious sip. Her eyes widened immediately. “What is this? It’s amazing!” “Jal’throp tea,” he told her. “It’s salarian.” “How the hell did I get into salarian tea?” “Do you know much about our mission to take down the Collectors?” he asked. She shrugged. “Only a little.” “We had a salarian scientist join the team at the beginning of that mission. Mordin Solus. He’s the one who got you into it.” She frowned thoughtfully. “He’s not on the Normandy now, is he? I don’t recall meeting him last night.” Garrus looked down, his fingers tightening on the handle of his mug. “No,” he said softly. “He died during the war.” When he glanced back at her, Shepard was staring down into her tea, unable to meet his eyes. … Shepard spent her day wandering the ship. She enjoyed listening to the crew chatting about galactic news and ship gossip, working away at the Normandy’s continuing repairs. She looked at the plans for Tali’Zorah’s house, listened to Chakwas share stories, and cleaned weapons with James. Her hands still knew how to hold a gun, how to take it apart and put it back together, but any time she stopped to try and think about it, the details slipped away like grains of sand through her fingers. When she tired of the workbench, she went to visit Liara, but stopped short at the sound of raised voices. “—no, it’s not right. You can’t just let them take her away.” “Garrus, they’re finding temp housing for all of us. They want us out of the ship. How long do you think you can hide her from the Alliance? She can’t avoid the debrief forever.” “You know what they’re like, Liara. They—” Shepard’s eyes darted between the asari and turian as the doors slid open. “Shepard,” Liara said warmly. “We were just talking about—” “The Alliance.” Shepard leaned against a console, crossing her arms. “How they need to ‘debrief’ me.” Garrus stepped forward. “You don’t have to go until you’re ready,” he insisted. “They won’t kidnap their hero.” He and Liara shared a look that told her, quite clearly, that they weren’t as confident on that point as they wished to appear. Shepard came to a decision. “I’ll go willingly,” she told them. “Tomorrow, before they can decide I’m attempting to evade duty.” Garrus gave her the strangest pained look, something she couldn’t fathom. “But Shepard…” She gave a firm shake of her head. “There’s no point in delaying it. I’ll go and get it over with.” Garrus and Liara shared another mysterious look. “Shepard,” Liara began slowly, “Please sit down. I think we should make sure you know the whole story before you go.” Over the next few hours, Garrus and Liara took turns telling Shepard a story—her story. They told her how the warning of a fallen species had been forced into her mind, of how she’d taken down a spectre and an army of synthetics to save a galaxy. Of how she’d died over a planet of ice, one of the first casualties of a threat she would end by her own hand. They told of how she’d destroyed a race of slaves and killed a human reaper with a hand-held nuke. Of how she’d committed genocide to give them time. Garrus told of her imprisonment by the Alliance, his eyes begging her to understand his fear that she would not be returned to them this time. They told of her daring escape from Earth, of how she’d brokered peace between nations. They told her how she’d become the hero of all krogan, ended a three hundred year long war, and brought a galaxy together to fight the biggest threat in fifty thousand years. They told her how she’d gone on alone at the end, determined to finish it at any cost. Afterwards she sat stunned, barely able to comprehend the tale. Tali’Zorah, who had joined sometime during the telling, sat beside her on Liara’s bed, holding Shepard’s trembling hand tightly in her own three-fingered one. “I’m sorry,” Liara said, her eyes seeking forgiveness. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” Shepard took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I understand why you thought I should know.” She was a hero and a traitor, a criminal and a savior. Which part would matter most would depend on the Alliance. … Garrus wasn’t sure that a party was a good idea. Most of the crew had been enthusiastic. Anything for Shepard, they said, scrounging up what extra food they could and gathering what was left of their once-stocked bar. Privately, he wondered how much of this was really for Shepard. He and Liara had agreed at first that she should meet the crew one by one instead of all together. Too overwhelming, they’d decided. Garrus still thought it might be too much, but others disagreed. Tali told him he was being overprotective—she was still Shepard, and Shepard could handle anything. Garrus said nothing, but he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes when she’d entered her quarters and couldn’t remember. In the span of two hours it was planned and enacted, and he led Shepard into the lounge to greet a sea of happy faces. If it became too much, well, he had her six. He always did. … A few hours into the party, Shepard was gone. Garrus slipped out unnoticed, glad for the distraction that liquor provided. When he finally found Shepard, she was curled up in the corner of her couch, holding the photo from the party at Anderson’s apartment. “Shepard?” he called softly. He saw her look up at him, distorted through the display case glass. When he came down the steps, she was wiping at her eyes. He sat down beside her quietly, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know what kind of comfort he could offer her or what kind she’d accept. Everything was backwards now, and the lines weren’t where they used to be. “I had all these friends,” she said. “So many people cared about me, and I don’t remember them.” Her fingers traced the edge of the photo frame. “Everything I had left of them was in my head, and now even that is gone.” He reached out, covering her hand with his. “No, Shepard. What you have left of them is downstairs in that room.” She shook her head. “The ones who are still alive.” Garrus didn’t know what to say to that. “All those ‘old times’ they’re talking about down there… It’ll never be like that again,” she said bitterly. “I’ll probably never fight again. It’s been months and my legs still aren’t quite right. Hands still shake.” She paused, staring down at where his hand still covered hers. “Even if I could, I don’t know if I want to.” Garrus lifted her hand and clasped it in both of his own. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that trembling hand and those tear-stained cheeks. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her as he had on those nights when the dreams had overtaken her, when the war had become too much. He did none of these things. Instead, he held that hand as tightly as he dared, looking her straight in the eye. “Shepard, we all thought you were dead. None of us are disappointed in you.” A lump rose in his throat. “We’re just glad you’re here.” She held his gaze for a long moment before nodding and withdrawing her hand. “Do you want to go back down?” he asked. “No,” she said quietly. “I think I just want to go to sleep.” Garrus stood, going to rummage through the wardrobe. “Here,” he said, pulling something from a drawer. A blue and gold outfit unrolled as he held it up for her. “Your dress uniform. For tomorrow morning.” He took a step towards the door, then paused. “Shepard… do you need anything else before I go?” She shook her head. “No. Thank you, Garrus.” He gave her one more long look before leaving. “Goodnight, Shepard. I’ll be here if you need me.” … Shepard woke gasping and afraid. She tried to hang on to the dream, hoping there was something buried there, some memory. Even a terrible one would be welcome now. The dream was whisked away like clouds on the breeze, leaving nothing but terror and breathlessness. The same as always. It was early still, but too late to go back to sleep. She reached the mess unnoticed, as she’d hoped, prepared to go hunting through the fridge and cabinets for something edible. She was surprised to find that the kettle, a mug, and a packet of tea were already set out for her by some forward-thinking crewman. Though she appreciated the gesture, she was unsettled by it as well. These people—strangers to her—knew more about her own habits than she did. She made the tea and grabbed a meal bar before heading back up to her cabin quickly and quietly. After swallowing down her breakfast, Shepard had time on her hands. She didn’t want to shower yet—didn’t want to change into her uniform so early—but the anxious feeling in her stomach prevented her from working on the ship model still on her desk or from reading any of the books or magazines lying around. She paced for a few minutes, then took to exploring the room and examining the contents. Nothing useful on the terminal. Mission files and forms, armor and weapons specs, dossiers on the team, and a handful of entertainment vids. Her favorites, she assumed. It was a strange feeling to not know her own preferences. She tried to get into her private messages, but she didn’t know her password. She wondered if one of the technical experts on the crew would be willing to hack into her mail for her. She wondered how many regulations that would break. Every drawer in the room was opened and shuffled through, the contents examined and puzzled over. The purposes of some things were obvious. A datapad loaded with music files. A bottle of sleeping pills. Some items seemed to hold a significance she couldn’t recall. A well-worn paperback book. A holo of a ship. An old stuffed animal. There were other objects she couldn’t fathom at all. She stared at the crystal, the sand-buffed rock, and the broken chunk of blue armor for several minutes before she gave up trying to decipher their meaning. She felt oddly voyeuristic, as if she were spying on some stranger’s life. They were her own belongings, she reminded herself; no one had more right to them than she. And yet, she still felt like the intruder. The bottom drawer of the wardrobe didn’t help. The drawer held only a few items of clothing, but it was immediately apparent that they were not fit for a human. She lifted the shirt, studied it. Room for a cowl, elbow spurs. An impossibly tiny waist. An unsettled feeling collected in her stomach as she put the shirt away. She slammed the drawer shut and headed for the shower, hoping that the hot water would take her mind off things. As she stood under the stream, she gave a closer examination to the products on the shower shelf. A few moments later, she wished she hadn’t. There, too, turian and human belongings were mingled. She finished her shower, determined not to let this get to her. It was a problem for another day. Today she would meet with the Alliance. She would be Commander Shepard again. She stared at herself in the mirror, straightening the jacket of her dress uniform. For the first time since she woke, she saw something of the woman a galaxy followed staring back at her. …
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The Alliance met her at the airlock, most likely owing to a certain meddlesome asari. Soldiers led her to a room in the Alliance compound, bare and nearly empty but for a single table and a few chairs. They stood outside while she paced the room, far too wired to sit and wait. The time that passed was likely only minutes, but the seconds ticked by like hours. A scarred man entered, gold stripes on his shoulders. She saluted before she even realized what she was doing. “At ease, Commander,” the man said, striding around the table. He motioned for her to sit. “I wanted to see you before you gave your official statements. We owe you a lot, Shepard.” “So I’ve heard,” she said wryly, hoping she wouldn’t be chastised for her tone. She was rewarded with a chuckle. “What I’ve heard is true, then? You remember nothing?” His eyes were piercing under the brim of his officer’s cap, studying her carefully as she answered. “The first thing I remember is waking up after the war was over. Everything I know from before is what’s been told to me by others. I… didn’t even know my own name.” She glanced downward, somehow embarrassed at the admission. If she wasn’t certain who she was, how could they possibly believe her? The scarred man stroked his beard thoughtfully. “They’re going to want tests done to prove your identity,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “There have been issues in the past.” Shepard remembered the stories she’d been told and held in a shudder. “I understand. I admit, I had my own doubts at first.” “But not any longer?” His blue eyes narrowed slightly. She shifted in her chair. “I haven’t regained any memories if that’s what you’re asking, but my crew seems convinced,” she said, holding his gaze. “I trust their judgment.” “The testimonies of your crew are compelling evidence,” the scarred man said, “but we’ll need to make a full match to your prior records. After your initial debrief, you’ll be sent to medical for an evaluation. They’ll confirm your identification and assess your physical and mental condition. During this time, the Alliance will schedule further interviews to discuss your experiences and determine if any action needs to be taken. Only after all of this is complete will you be released. Understood?” She straightened instinctively. “Understood.” He stood, and she quickly did the same. “Good luck with the board, Shepard. They can be… tiresome.” His lips quirked into a hint of a smile before he turned and exited the room. Shepard stared at the door after him. She’d never gotten his name. … Shepard started to get annoyed around the fifth time she was forced to recount all she remembered. “…and then I arrived here and told you all I know. Five times.” Her interrogators shared a look. Shepard knew that sarcasm and insubordination weren’t exactly tolerated in the Alliance, but if she’d really saved the galaxy, they could damn well overlook a few infractions. The whole process was frustrating. She was fumbling along like a blind man in a minefield. “Thank you, Commander,” the highest ranked man finally said. She narrowed her eyes a little; she didn’t like the way Admiral Mikhailovich looked at her. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’re due for a meeting with medical in ten minutes. Corporals Wright and Rios will take you there,” he said, nodding to the two guards that stood silently behind her interrogators. “Afterwards, you’re expected at a closed convene of the admirals to address your actions during and prior to the reaper war.” He motioned for her to leave, with the two young soldiers right behind. Shepard sighed, turning to her two captors as they closed the door. “So looks like it’s just you and me again, guys,” she said casually, crossing her arms. “Fancy a walk to medical?” She smiled a little at their uneasiness, though neither really seemed like a bad sort. Minor payback for the discomfort she had felt when they’d arrived staring at her like she was some sort of museum exhibit. Or some sort of god, said a voice in her head, but she tried her best not to listen. Discomfort didn’t even begin to cover that thought. Shepard sighed, heading down the well-worn path to the medical pavilion. She wondered which it would be this time, psych or physical. She was ushered into a small sitting room, leaving her guards out in the hallway to wait. Shepard breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Reinhardt entered the room. Seeing him was infinitely preferable to having another psych session. Shepard hated the psychiatrist’s visits—she always felt like she was being dissected. “How does that make you feel?” Dr. Patel always asked. It makes me feel like I want to throttle my psychiatrist, she always wanted to say. She refrained from saying so, if only because she didn’t want to be retained for insanity or violent tendencies. “How is my favorite patient today?” Reinhardt asked, smiling. She wondered exactly how many favorite patients he had. “Same as yesterday,” she said. Her returning smile was lukewarm. She tried not to blame Dr. Reinhardt for all the tests he’d put her through. He wasn’t the one ordering them. He didn’t have any more choice in the matter than she did. “Better than yesterday, I hope,” he countered, coming to sit on his stool. “No more tests today. I’ve got results for you.” “Good news?” Shepard asked, though she wouldn’t get her hopes up. “Well,” he said, opening her file, “the Alliance has accepted our confirmation of your identity. You’ll be receiving a new set of dog tags, though you’ll currently be listed as on medical leave.” “How charitable.” “Your cybernetic implants appear to be slowly repairing themselves, according to the baseline scans taken during your physical,” he added, flipping through the pages. “With time and physical therapy, we believe your legs may return to full functionality.” “I’ll be able to run?” she asked cautiously. Reinhardt smiled. “Best case scenario, your legs will function nearly as they did before your injuries.” “Worst case?” The smile dropped. “You’ll see little improvement from their current state. You will be able to walk but not run. Long periods of standing will be uncomfortable.” Reinhardt ran through a litany of other injuries that might not heal so well as her legs—the flexibility in her left shoulder was shot, and her headaches would likely be a chronic problem. The tremors in her arms and hands could be reduced by physical therapy but would never completely go away. Hearing in the left ear was reduced, and the scar tissue from her burns would always be overly susceptible to sun damage. She took it all in with equanimity until he read from his notes, “Active duty no longer an option.” “Ever?” she interjected. “Ever,” Reinhardt confirmed, his face a mask of sympathy. She reeled a little at the news, though she knew she should have expected it from the beginning. She was damaged goods now. Broken, like a rifle with a cracked barrel. Sure, it might still shoot, but who wants to take the chance of testing it? “There’s more, I’m afraid,” Dr. Reinhardt said, expression serious. “Your memory… The brain scans suggest that the damage is most likely permanent.” He stressed that it wasn’t impossible for her to gain portions of her memory back, but it was clear that he didn’t hold out hope. “If you’d gotten treatment immediately…” he said, and let the sentence hang. Shepard didn’t acknowledge it. No point in wishes and could-have-beens. The psychiatrist was sent in after that. A double-whammy. “How does this make you feel?” she asked, peering over her datapad. Shepard, to her credit, didn’t punch her. … Corporals Rios and Wright escorted her from medical. Shepard rolled her shoulders, straightened her posture, and pushed all thoughts of her exam results aside. There would be time to consider them after the admirals, she reminded herself, though she was filled with longing at the thought of her bed, no matter how hard the mattress or scratchy the sheets. She could think her own thoughts and not have to hide. No one watching her or judging her or asking her questions for which she didn’t know the answers. The door was locked; they were told to wait. The admirals didn’t need her yet. Bored and impatient, Shepard leaned against the wall and looked at her guards appraisingly. She’d been observing them closely since they were assigned to her on day one. Maybe she could get some entertainment out of them while she waited. “So have you two discussed your feelings or just given each other longing looks when you think no one’s looking?” They both gaped at her; she smirked. “It’s not that hard to figure out. I do have eyes, you know.” Corporal Rios blushed a hot scarlet. “Fraternization rules,” she all but whispered. “We can’t…” Shepard smiled. “Is that really all that’s keeping you?” she asked. “Rules are there for a reason, but only you can decide whether breaking them is worth the consequences. In a world like this…” She paused, a sad look flitting through her eyes. “You could lose everything in an instant. You’ve got to ask yourself, what would you regret more? Acting, or choosing not to act?” The corporals stood wide eyed, weapons drooping, enraptured. A pair of admirals watched from a window. “Look at that,” one said, shaking her head as she watched the scene unfold. “She has no idea of the power she wields.” The second admiral stepped closer to the glass. “It needs to stay that way,” he said grimly. “Think how easily she could upset the balance of power.” A third admiral joined them, the same that had visited Shepard on her first day in Alliance care. “Shepard has no interest in power,” he said with finality. “She would never willingly try to cause a rift.” The first admiral gave Admiral Hackett a deferential nod before he walked away. She turned back to her companion, shaking her head. “Shepard doesn’t have to try,” she said. “Where she walks, the galaxy follows.” The other admiral sighed. “And we’re dragged along with the tide.” …
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Garrus was restless. There was little to do on the Normandy—the Alliance didn’t even want them working on the ship now that she was in dry dock. All they were meant to do was wait until the Alliance had secured housing for them all. They were supposed to stay nearby for a while in case the Alliance had questions. Garrus had packed up his things and then packed Shepard’s for her, feeling uncomfortably voyeuristic. He knew the old Shepard would have laughed at his discomfort, but now that she had lost her memory he wasn’t sure where the boundaries were anymore. Once that was completed, Garrus wandered the ship in an agitated state, looking for anything to hold his attention. One of the procurement specialists aboard had somehow managed to get them a couple new crates of various liquors, so one of Garrus’s pastimes was drinking himself into oblivion—as much as one could while trying to ration their alcohol. Garrus preferred to be alone, but it seemed that one person or another always tried to keep him company. He knew they meant well, but he hated it nonetheless. “How are you holding up, Garrus?” Tali asked, sitting down beside him. “I know all of this must be hard for you.” “She’s alive,” he said, as he always did, but Tali slammed her palms down onto the bar, anger radiating from her posture. “Don’t give me that line, Garrus,” she snapped. “I know you. Of course you’re glad she’s alive. We all are. But don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. It won’t kill you to talk about it, you know.” Garrus blinked at her outburst, then rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I know,” he admitted. “I just don’t know what to say.” They were quiet for a long time, drinking side-by-side in the half-darkness. “She agreed to marry me,” he finally said. “We were going to tell everyone after the war.” His subvocals keened quietly. “We were going to be bondmates, and now she doesn’t even know who I am. What if she doesn’t… what if we don’t…” He couldn’t finish the thought out loud. “Garrus.” Tali put a gloved hand on his arm. “She still loves you. We can all see it. Even if she doesn’t know why.” “What if she never remembers why?” he asked. “What if she never figures it out? We were partners, Tali. There may never be another fight for us now.” Tali slammed her filtered ale down with more force than necessary. “Garrus, you big, stupid idiot! You think she only loves you for your aim?” “We had each other’s backs, Tali. That’s who we were. Without that…” “You only have every other part of your lives. Don’t be a bosh’tet, Garrus. You weren’t just partners on the battlefield. You were partners in everything.” She paused, releasing her frustration in a sigh. “When you brought her back, she was only onboard the Normandy two days, and I could already see how she sought you out for everything. Did you know that she looked for you every time she walked into a room?” Her glowing eyes cut over to his, taking in his shocked expression. “Are you sure—” “Yes, of course I’m sure,” Tali said impatiently. “She’s always done that. When her eyes find you, it’s like… like someone turned on the sun.” “And she still does that?” “Her light’s a little dimmer now. She’s been hurt, Garrus. She doesn’t know who she is. But she seems to know who you are.” “And who is that, exactly?” She patted him on the shoulder. “Someone who always has her back.” … Days passed. The Normandy crew was parceled out among a new neighborhood of pre-fab housing, little more than a refugee camp. Despite having his own home, Garrus was still rarely left alone. Friends and crew would gather in his living room, talking and laughing and playing cards, even when he didn’t participate. At this point, he was nearly ready to admit it was a good thing—without those distractions, he might have gone crazy wondering and worrying about Shepard. All until the morning Liara rushed in, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “She’s being released!” … The admiralty board had spent days determining Shepard’s fate. Legally, they couldn’t keep her—not unless they charged her with a crime. They discussed and debated, but ultimately, they weren’t willing to destroy her. She was much more useful as a hero. … Garrus waited nervously in the reception area. Supposedly Liara had somehow gotten word to Shepard that he’d be waiting for her, but he still worried that he wouldn’t be welcome. He used to read her like a book—anticipate nearly every move. It was different now. His eyes snapped to the door as he heard it open. “We can house you on-base, Commander.” The voice was soon revealed to be one of the younger admirals. “It will be safer and certainly more luxurious,” the man said, with an unexpected note of urgency in his voice. “You’ll have to return often for the physical therapy anyway.” “Thank you, but I’d rather stay with my crew,” Shepard said firmly as she passed through the doorway. Her eyes lit on Garrus, and she smiled. The admiral frowned, but smoothed out his expression before Shepard turned back to look at him. “Very well. Please let us know if you change your mind.” “Yes sir,” she said, saluting. He returned the salute before going back through the door. “Ready to get out of here?” Garrus asked, once the man had gone. Shepard smiled at him again. “Lead the way!” As they headed to the skycar, Garrus couldn’t stop himself from mentioning the admiral’s behavior. “That admiral didn’t seem happy with you.” She shrugged. “They want to keep tabs on me, but aren’t willing to say so.” Garrus frowned slightly. “What are they worried about?” “No idea,” she said breezily. The skycar ride was short, and before long, they were pulling up in front of Garrus’s prefab. “It’s not much,” he said as they approached, and gave her a short tour of the interior. “Liara’s got a place, too,” he reminded her. “You can stay with her if you want. She probably has more space.” “No,” she said with a second’s pause. “No, I want to stay with you.” Those words warmed Garrus from the inside out. He shook his head before he got carried away. “You can have the bed,” he said. “I’ll take the couch.” She paused, setting down her bag. “You don’t have to do that, Garrus. I can sleep on the couch,” she said, already knowing he wouldn’t accept that idea. Her mouth curled into a small smile. “Or we could both have the bed. It’s big enough. I got the impression it wouldn’t be the first time we shared.” His mandibles fluttered. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said finally. “And if you’re there, I’m liable to forget, and…” And what? she wanted to ask. Cuddle me? Did turians cuddle? The pained look on his face precluded any desire to ask. “Whatever makes you most comfortable, Garrus,” she conceded, though a pang of disappointment followed his relieved nod. … Garrus was jolted from sleep by a horrible heart-wrenching scream.
Shepard.
He raced into the bedroom to find her thrashing, tangled up in the covers. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Shepard,” he said, cupping her face with his hand. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” She continued to sleep, breathing in gasps. “Shepard,” he said more loudly, shaking her shoulder this time. “Wake up.” Her eyes flew open and she sat up, swallowing air greedily like one who had just escaped from drowning. Or being spaced, he thought, with a sick feeling in his stomach. She looked around the room wildly, as if searching for the source of her terror. He rubbed her back cautiously, wondering again how much he could offer before she retreated from him. The motion seemed to comfort her, to anchor her back in reality. Her eyes found his, and she took a few deep breaths. No more gasping. The color was returning to her cheeks, her breathing more even. He was tempted to check her pulse, but even before all of this, she’d scoffed at him for fussing like that. Still, he remembered, the softness in her eyes had often told a different story. “I woke you?” she said, sounding winded. “You screamed,” he told her, his heart lurching at the memory. It was like nothing he’d heard before, not from her. “Shit.” She ran her fingers through unruly hair. “Sorry. I’m usually much quieter.” His hand on her back stilled. “This has happened before?” “The dreams?” She let out a mirthless laugh. “Nearly every night.” He frowned; what did she dream of? “Did you… see something?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. He both anticipated and feared her answer. Shepard looked away, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “No,” she said flatly. “Everything was dark. It was just feelings. Fear. Something terrible. I couldn’t breathe.” It figures, he thought bitterly. They’d taken everything from her but the fear. The distant look in her eye and her too-shallow breathing prompted him to speak. “Would you like me to, um, stay?” he asked hesitantly, afraid he was pushing too far. She smiled ruefully. “Not if it makes you uncomfortable.” Garrus remembered her words to him earlier that evening, and the unexpected disappointment in her eyes at his response. He knew, without a doubt, that he’d never deny her anything if she asked it of him… and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to give her all the things she was too afraid to ask for as well. He inched up the bed to lean back against the pillows, holding out his arms to her. She wrapped herself in them without question, her head resting against the angle of his chest. He held her close as she drifted off, reveling in the feel of her and hating himself for almost hoping the next night would bring another dream. …
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“So what do you all do around here?” Shepard asked, as she and Garrus were enjoying their morning tea. Garrus rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort, a motion Shepard was becoming familiar with. “Well… mostly we’ve been waiting for news about you. But there’s a shuttle every day up to the Citadel for volunteers who want to help with the cleanup. There’s also plenty of that to do down here on Earth though. It’s probably like that everywhere.” Shepard nodded, looking contemplative. “Where did I call home before the war?” Garrus seemed surprised at the question. “The ship, mostly,” he said. “You do own an apartment on the Citadel, though it’s probably rubble now.” Shepard perked up at his words. “What do you think of working on the Citadel crew? If we’re lucky, maybe we can repair my apartment.” Garrus smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” “Where did you call home?” Shepard asked. Garrus paused a moment, thinking of all the places he’d lived. But really, there was only one answer. “Home for me is… wherever you are.” … They spent weeks like that, cleaning and repairing the Citadel, and when they got tired of the monotony, Earth. Shepard spent time with the various crew members, and Garrus managed a few messages to his family. The hardest part was meeting the fans and well-wishers. To Shepard’s surprise (and no one else’s), they were everywhere. Each team she worked on had a number of people who wanted to meet her, to thank her for what she’d done. She smiled and tried to be gracious, but it was hard to relate when the war was little more than a story for her. Sometimes she felt that she was the lucky one, not remembering such devastation. Other times, she felt guilty that she didn’t share in everyone’s pain. She mourned her memories, not the people she couldn’t remember losing. She was invigorated by the physical work, as she gained in strength every day, but exhausted with meeting so many unfamiliar faces. The Alliance had ordered her to keep the memory loss under wraps, which seemed ridiculous—if not impossible—to Shepard, but her friends and crew members were doing their best to help her continue the charade. Garrus, Tali, and Liara stuck to her like glue, and the rest of her team was little better. Where she went, at least one of them would go as well. Things between Garrus and Shepard were… strange. Garrus had begun to spend every night in the bed beside Shepard, and if Shepard often found herself subject to a sleeping turian’s embrace, she never complained about it. To be truthful, she liked it. But any time Garrus noticed himself doing so, he pulled away, distancing himself. One morning, after watching Garrus retreat in a near-panic, Shepard had had enough. She stomped into the kitchen after him. “Do you not want me anymore?” she demanded. The turian’s mandibles fluttered wildly, his expression a picture of shock. “What?” “You always run away from me,” she said, a hurt expression in her eyes. “You won’t touch me, except when you’re sleeping. Do you want me to leave?” “Spirits, no!” he practically gasped. “I always want you with me, Shepard.” “Do you?” she asked. “I know I must be… different now.” She turned her head away, blinking rapidly. Garrus swallowed his fear and approached her, pulling her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I guess I’ve been… afraid. Of pushing you too far.” He swallowed hard. “I want everything we had, Shepard,” he confessed. “You haven’t pushed me too far,” Shepard replied, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I don’t know exactly what we had before, but I want… something. I want more than this.” Her eyes looked glassy. “This world is pretty new and strange, but I knew from the day I first saw you that I could rely on you. I feel things for you that I can’t explain. I trust you.” When she gave a small sniffle, Garrus pulled her back to his chest, stoking her hair with his gloved talons. He’d never seen her cry, not before. But she’d always hated feeling vulnerable, and there was nothing more vulnerable than losing your entire past. And nothing more brave than living your life without it. “I have all these feelings,” she said, “but no memories to tie them to. None of it really makes sense. You’re one of the only things I’m sure of. And I want more.” “Okay,” Garrus said, feeling somehow relieved. “I can do that.” … Shepard was walking through the prefab town with a couple friends one day and suddenly heard her name being called by a deep, gravelly voice. “Shepard!” She looked up to see a giant, scarred krogan barreling towards her. She grabbed Garrus’s arm. “That’s Wrex,” Liara quickly hissed into her ear. “Old friend.” “Shepard!” he said again, once he got close. He grabbed her by the arms, laughing. “I can’t believe you did it!” She smiled at him. “Hello, Wrex.” The krogan dropped her arms, giving her a suspicious look. He looked at Garrus and Liara, who had closed ranks on either side of her. “What’s wrong with her?” His voice boomed. “Not here,” Liara hissed, and dragged Wrex towards Garrus’s pre-fab. Garrus and Shepard followed behind, while Shepard schooled her hurt expression into something indifferent. As soon as Garrus closed the door behind them, Wrex rounded on his former teammates. “What the hell is going on?” He turned his glare upon Shepard. “There’s something wrong with her.” Garrus stepped in front of Shepard defensively. “She’s lost her memory, Wrex,” he snapped. “She doesn’t remember anything from before.” His words stopped Wrex in his tracks. “Nothing?” he said, more quietly. Shepard stepped out from behind Garrus. “I only know who you are because they told me, Wrex. I’m sorry.” She looked down. Wrex stepped up to her. “You don’t have anything to feel sorry for,” he said, as gentle as his gruff voice could be. “Not a damn thing.” He stepped back and cleared his throat. “Well if she’s lost her memory, why is she still making googly eyes at you, Vakarian? Couldn’t that blast have knocked some taste into her at least?” Garrus rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Wrex.” He shrugged. “Someone needs to be here to knock you down a peg.” … It wasn’t long before Wrex had joined in the silent conspiracy. The public wasn’t to know of Shepard’s memory loss, so they protected her. She was rarely alone, always with a friend to guide her through the pitfalls of conversation. Despite all of this, she picked up cues quickly, and still had the talent she always did of setting people at ease. Garrus marveled at the way she still somehow knew just what to say. He figured it was just one of those Shepard things. Still, he saw that lost look in her eyes sometimes, when she knew she missed something she’ll never get back. “Liara, you melded with her,” he said once. “Can’t you give her back some of her memories?” His asari friend gave Garrus the saddest knowing look. “She didn’t share everything with me, Garrus. Other than the vision, I only got the smallest bits and pieces. Nothing that would make sense without the whole. And I would never wish that vision upon anyone, her least of all.” Her voice ran quiet. “She’s suffered enough.” He didn’t ask again. … Months passed, and the repairs on the Citadel moved at a surprising pace. There was a clamor for some kind of celebration. The council wanted to hand out awards and honor the memories of those who contributed the most to the war. At the center of this, of course, was Shepard. The council, aware of Shepard’s memory loss, wanted to tell her what to say, to script her every word and action. That isn’t Shepard, her friends argued. “Tell me what you want me to say,” she told them. “Maybe I’ll say some of it. But I’m going to speak from the heart.” “You always have,” Garrus agreed. … Only days before the council’s ceremony, Miranda Lawson appeared, as if out of thin air. “A mutual friend told me about your little memory problem,” she said, once they found themselves in private. “Once I get my hands on some equipment, I’d like to take a look.” “You’re welcome to,” Shepard told her. “But no one so far has had any luck.” “Yes,” Miranda said, “But none of them were me.” … “I’d like to thank you all for your warm welcome tonight,” Shepard spoke into the microphone. “And express my gratitude for the honor the council has bestowed upon me. I know you consider me a hero, but the truth is…” She paused, looking at her friends sitting in the front row. “No one wins a war alone. As far as I’m concerned, everyone here is a hero. We all had a part to play. And I am prouder than ever to see how everyone has come together to rebuild and support one another. The war may be over, but we are still fighting for our future. So when you are discouraged, remember the heroes that are around you every day. And when you want to thank me? Thank them instead. Thank you.” She stepped down from the podium to applause, and rejoined her friends to watch the rest of the program. She watched as further awards were presented, including ones for every member of the Normandy crew. She was pleased and proud to see her friends receiving such recognition. The stories they had told, meant to show her who she was, had shown her more about who they were. And they were wonderful. Following the ceremony was a cocktail hour and then dinner. She schmoozed and chatted, appearing as casual and unconcerned as may be. In reality, she was giving herself a headache from the care and concentration she was forced to give to each conversation. Her friends stayed nearby to deflect questions she couldn’t answer, but it was a slippery tightrope she walked. A misstep could reveal everything. “There’s something off about her,” Victus said, watching her carefully. Garrus followed his eyes to where Shepard stood with Tali and Wrex. Victus was too observant to miss the changes in her. “She received a head injury on the Crucible,” he told him. “There was some damage to her memory.” Victus turned his sharp eyes back to Garrus. “How much did she lose?” He glanced away, unable to hold his gaze as he revealed the truth. “All of it.” When he looked back up, the primarch’s eyes were full of too much understanding. “Garrus… I’m sorry.” …
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“Are you sure this is safe?” Shepard eyed the makeshift laboratory warily. “Perfectly,” Miranda said in her clipped way. “I need you to lay down here,” she added, motioning towards a table under one of her machines. Shepard lay quietly as Miranda went from machine to machine, running scans and goodness knew what else. Sometimes she would have Shepard say things or do things, recalling facts and attempting to recall memories. As usual, that only gave her a headache. When Miranda left her alone, tending to her machines, Shepard’s eyes flicked to the door as she imagined Garrus pacing just on the other side of it. He’d seemed overly concerned that morning when he arrived with her. Shepard was anxious too, but she’d tried not to get her hopes up. She’d been told that Miranda had once brought her back from death, but somehow she couldn’t quite believe the woman could get her memory back as well. “Shepard,” Miranda said, gaining her attention. She held up an injection needle. “This will put you to sleep briefly, for one last test I need to complete. You’ll wake shortly, and then I can provide you with your results.” “Is this really necessary?” Shepard asked, eyeing the needle warily. “It is,” Miranda replied, without a hint of sympathy. Shepard sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” Within minutes, she was asleep. … Garrus was, indeed, pacing in front of the door when Miranda opened it. She gazed at him calmly as he took two long steps to stop right in front of her. “She’ll be waking momentarily,” was all Miranda said. “Her memory?” Garrus asked hurriedly. Miranda sighed. “The damage appears to be permanent.” “Why can’t you fix it?” Garrus demanded. “You brought her back from the dead!” She gazed back at him unflinchingly until he seemed to calm. “To be blunt, Garrus, her brain was well-preserved at that time. The helmet kept it intact during her entry into the atmosphere, and the deep freeze on Alchera preserved it. The only damage was oxygen starvation. Not like this. She’s lucky to be alive and functioning given the damage her brain sustained.” “So you can’t…” “No. I’m sorry.” … “It’s okay,” Shepard said, comforting the turian who held her in his arms. “I always knew it was a long shot.” “I had hoped…” He trailed off. “I know,” she said. “Me too.” … Eventually, Shepard’s apartment was repaired to the point of habitability. “Most of the artwork is gone,” Garrus said, “But you can move in if you want.” “We can move in,” Shepard corrected him. “Should I be upset about the art?” He shrugged. “It was probably worth a lot, but I don’t think you ever liked it very much.” She smiled. “No great loss, then. Isn’t this where I had the big party?” “Yeah, the one where your photo was taken,” he said, referencing the one in the frame by the bed in their prefab home. Her eyes began to sparkle. “What do you think of throwing another one?” she asked. “Before everyone goes their separate ways?” “It won’t be too much for you?” he questioned, concerned. “Like the party on the Normandy?” she asked, to his nod. “I don’t think so. I feel like I know all of you now. It could be fun.” He smiled. “Then let’s send out the invitations.” … The party had most of the original attendees. Some were rowdier than the first time. Some were more subdued. Joker was having a hard time without EDI, but pounded shots with Jack until he didn’t care anymore. Zaeed and Wrex shot empty bottles off of the bar. Miranda kissed Traynor on a dare. Everyone was celebrating their survival and letting loose for the first time in a long time. Shepard flitted between groups like a social butterfly, drinking, dancing and joining in any game that was being played. She felt more at home now with these people than ever before, and felt sorry that many of them would be leaving Earth and the Citadel soon. Tali would soon be returning to Rannoch. She spent half the party excitedly going over house plans with whoever she could capture for a few minutes. Wrex and Grunt were returning to Tuchanka with the krogan army shortly. Grunt was ecstatic about returning as a war hero and accepting as many mating requests as he could. Most of the others didn’t have set plans yet, but Shepard could tell that few of them would stay. She considered this party a last hurrah before they all went their separate ways. In the morning there were hugs and tears as the old friends and teammates said goodbye. Shepard received promises of future visits, but they would probably never all be together at once again. Within the next two weeks, nearly half the group from the party had left. The Alliance crew was deployed, and others had gone to their own homes. Shepard felt a little lonely—she’d gotten used to having friends around her all the time—but she always had Garrus. … Every day after more long hours of cleanup and rebuilding, Shepard and Garrus experimented a little more in their alone time. Shepard was pretty sure she didn’t have a turian fetish, but everything she did with this turian just felt right. The kissing wasn’t like kissing a human (or so she thought—it wasn’t as if she remembered), but she loved it all the same. His body was so different from hers, angular and strange. And yet, beautiful. There was something there, a spark, a desire. And she was pretty sure she loved him. “Don’t stop,” she gasped as he pulled away from her. His hand had been at the waistband of her underwear. She wanted them off, wanted him under them. Wanted everything. He gazed at her with his piercing blue eyes. “Are you sure?” he said, straining against his own desire. She said, “Please.” They made love that night, and every night after. … “I need to go to Palaven,” he said one day. “My father and sister are there, and I haven’t seen them since before the war. Will you come with me?” “Of course,” she said. “And there’s somewhere I’d like to visit as well.” At his questioning look, she said, “Mindoir.” …
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Shepard paced the floor of the transport anxiously. “Shepard, please,” Garrus said, exasperated. “There’s no need to be nervous. My family isn’t going to be rude to the savior of the galaxy.” She shot him a disgruntled look. “Don’t call me that. And I want them to like me, not just be nice because of what I’ve done.” “They will,” he insisted. He stood and took her hands to stop her pacing. “They’ll love you like everyone else does. Now come sit down. Please?” Shepard sighed, but allowed him to lead her to the bench where he’d been sitting a moment before. A short time later, the landing announcement sounded and they went to gather their belongings. “Remember to turn on your radiation shield,” Garrus reminded her. “Palaven radiation is no joke.” As they exited the transport, Shepard followed Garrus as he dodged around families and couples greeting one another all over the platform. She smiled at the sight. Almost everyone from their transport was coming home from the war. The galaxy was still recovering—and would be for years—but things appeared to be getting back to some form of normal. “Garrus!” They heard the cry through the crowd. Garrus took Shepard’s hand and dragged her towards the sound, releasing her only when a female turian jumped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Garrus laughed. “It’s good to see you too, Solana.” When she released him, he looked behind her to a taller turian with pale face plates. “Dad?” “Garrus,” his father said gruffly, reaching out to shake his hand. “It’s good to have you back in one piece. And this must be Commander Shepard.” His discerning eye turned on her, and she forced herself not to blush. “It’s an honor to meet you,” she said. “And you too, Solana. Garrus has told me a lot about you both.” Solana’s mandibles spread in a smile. “Probably not nearly as much as he’s told us about you. Come on, we’ve got a skycar waiting.” Castis drove them the direction of the Vakarian home, on the outskirts of Cipritine, the capital city. The structure of the house had still been intact when Castis Vakarian had returned to Palaven, and it hadn’t taken him too much work to return it very nearly to it’s original state. Shepard submitted herself to a polite interrogation during the ride. Castis asked about the war and her past, which Garrus helped her answer, as well as her future plans. “So, Commander,” he began, “Are you planning on returning to active duty at any point?” “No, sir,” she replied. “My injuries won’t allow for it. Too much permanent damage.” “That’s a shame,” he said. “I heard you were one hell of a soldier. What do you intend to do now?” She glanced at Garrus. “I’m not sure,” she said. “The Alliance wants me traveling around making inspirational speeches and whatnot, but I don’t really think that’s for me. So far I’ve just been working on rebuilding what I can. I’ll have to see what my options are.” Before too long, they pulled in front of a modern looking concrete house, with thick walls and deep overhangs shading the windows. It was larger than Shepard had expected from Garrus’s description. His father’s work had obviously paid well. Shepard took in as much as she could while they were ushered inside. The interior seemed perfectly serviceable, if a little bare. She supposed much of their original décor and belongings had probably been destroyed during the war. They stepped into an open living area, and Castis motioned towards a door on a short hallway. “Garrus, your room is ready for you. I’ve prepared our guest room for the Commander—” Garrus cleared his throat. “Actually, Shepard will be staying with me.” His father’s browplates rose. “So I see,” he said deliberately. “By the way, when is the wedding going to take place? Your message suggested you planned to be married immediately after the war ended. It’s been months.” Shepard nearly swayed where she stood. Garrus glanced at her nervously, but she was in no condition to express her surprise. “There have been some… complications, Dad. We’re not planning on getting married right at the moment.” Castis frowned. “So you’re living together without having made any kind of commitment? That is not how I raised you, Garrus,” he said warningly. “Not how a proper turian conducts themselves.” Garrus turned to Shepard, still pale with shock. “Will you give me a minute alone with my dad, please?” he asked. “I’ll come talk to you after.” “Garrus—” she managed. “Please,” he said. After a moment, she obeyed, going into his bedroom and closing the door. She sat down on the bed, her heart pounding. Why hadn’t he told her? She pulled a small notebook out of her pocket and began to write. After a few minutes, Solana entered the room. “I’m sorry my dad was such a tactless ass. Garrus didn’t warn us about your memory problem.” She noticed Shepard writing. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?” She looked up. “Just before we left Earth, I started writing down significant things that happen to me. I don’t expect to lose my memory again, but if I do, I won’t ever have to wonder what I was thinking or feeling.” Solana sat on the bed next to her. “And what are you feeling about this?” she asked carefully. “Confused.” Shepard sighed. “Well, please don’t be too hard on Garrus. He does dumb things when he’s scared.” Shepard’s brows shot up. “Scared? He doesn’t seem the type to scare easily. He’s a soldier.” Solana smiled. “A good one. He didn’t hesitate a second when the reapers hit Palaven. What really scares him is this emotional stuff. He just can’t help it. So please… go a little easy on him.” Smiling gently at Shepard, she stood and slipped out the door. Shepard was left alone, writing in her book, until a worried Garrus finally entered. “So…” she said, with forced calm, “Any other big secrets you’ve been hiding from me? We didn’t adopt a cat or a… krogan baby or something?” Garrus sighed, sitting down on the bed beside her. “I’m sorry, Shepard,” he said, looking at her with pleading eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” “I get it,” she said. “But I don’t appreciate being blindsided. Is there anything else you need to tell me?” she demanded. Garrus thought for a moment. “You did have some pets on the Normandy, a hamster and some fish. Unfortunately, none of them survived the crash. Our plan for after the war was to retire to an obscure colony world and live off the royalties from the books and vids.” Shepard sat for a moment taking it all in. “Well, I like the retirement plan anyways. And the wedding thing?” She looked at him. “I love you, but as far as I can remember, we’ve only been together a few months.” Garrus’s eyes widened and his mandibles fluttered wildly. “You love me?” She tilted her head, puzzled and a little hurt. “Didn’t you know that? I’m sure I must have told you… before.” Garrus pulled her tight to him, letting out a faint keening sound. “I was afraid you never would again,” he got out, his voice choked. Shepard wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck to hide the tears that had formed. “Oh Garrus… of course I do,” she said. “Of course I do.” …
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Early the next morning, Shepard padded into the kitchen in search of her favorite salarian tea, only to find Castis sitting at the kitchen table. “Good morning, Commander,” he said. “Will you join me?” When she was sitting across from him, he let out a sigh. “So you’re the spectre who taught my son to respect rules. You’re quite the conundrum. But I suppose you don’t remember any of those decisions, do you?” She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Everything I know about myself comes from what others have told me.” “It must be odd, not remembering who you are,” he observed. “I can’t imagine Garrus explaining your relationship when he apparently couldn’t even let you know that you were promised.” “Promised?” she asked, puzzled. “To be married,” he clarified. “Oh.” She paused. “When I first saw Garrus, I asked the asari who looked after me if I knew him. She said he was my boyfriend.” Castis leaned forward slightly, staring at her with sharp eyes. “You didn’t even remember him. Why are you still with him?” he demanded. Shepard’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice heated. “Why wouldn’t I be with him? He’s a wonderful person, and I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!” Her eyes blazed. He sat back calmly, his expression hard. “I need to know that you’re not just with him because he was there when you didn’t know anyone. My son deserves more than that.” Shepard glared. “From the moment I saw him I trusted him,” she said. “I felt things about him that I couldn’t understand! He was there for me when I didn’t know anyone, but it was more than that. He took care of me, he gave me space, he did everything he could to make sure I was as happy and comfortable as I could be! How dare you insult him, as if he couldn’t make me fall for him twice!” She stood from the table, breathing hard. Her fists trembled. Castis sighed. “Sit down, Commander. There’s no need to storm off in a huff.” “I disagree,” she said, voice dangerously low. He tilted his head, raising a brow. “Are you so blind as not to see I was baiting you?” he asked. “I had to know the truth.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “And now I see. You may well be acceptable after all.” Shepard, still angry, stomped back to Garrus’s room without ever getting the tea she had come for. Castis shook his head. “Young people,” he said to the empty room. … “What did you say to her?” Garrus demanded. His father sighed, rubbing his face with a hand. “Nothing of consequence. Calm down, Garrus. I just had to ensure that she was good enough for you.” Garrus stared at him incredulously. “Good enough for me? Do you have even the slightest clue how amazing she is?” he asked. Castis smiled wryly. “I’m starting to.” … Shepard stepped out onto the back patio with a drink in each hand, setting one down beside Garrus, who was frowning at his omni-tool. “What is it?” she asked. “An invitation,” he said. “Or a summons, really.” “From who?” she asked, setting her own drink down before sitting on the bench beside him. Garrus put his arm around her, pulling her in so that she could see the screen. “The primarch is throwing some sort of victory party. It’s a charity event, actually. Apparently the donations will be bigger if the guests get the chance to schmooze around with a couple of war heroes.” He sighed. “It’s for a good cause,” Shepard offered. “Free liquor and food. But…” “What?” “Formal wear required,” he said, waiting for the inevitable protest. Shepard looked thoughtful. “I probably look pretty in a dress.” She frowned. “But where am I going to find one on Palaven?” Garrus laughed, surprised at Shepard’s willingness. “There are some asari boutiques in the city. Solana probably knows if any have reopened since the war.” “Shopping, huh?” Shepard tilted her head. “Did I ever like shopping? I’m feeling this strange sort of dread.” Garrus’s mandibles fluttered in amusement. “That sounds about right.” … Shepard swept into the ballroom on Garrus’s arm, wearing a graceful gown of blue and silver. “You were right,” he whispered to her. “You do look pretty in a dress.” She had worried, at first, that she’d have a difficult time finding a gown that covered most of her scars, but was pleased to find that Palaven fashions were more conservative than those on Earth. The proprietor of the asari boutique that she and Solana had visited was ecstatic to dress Shepard, exhausting the commander with her enthusiasm. Solana had stepped back to laugh and enjoy the show. Shepard glared at her, but couldn’t stay angry. Shepard would have done the same to any of her friends, and she was starting to realize that Solana was just the kind of person she would like to befriend. “Shepard, Garrus!” The primarch approached them moments after they’d crossed the threshold. “You clean up well,” he said, shaking each of their hands in turn. Shepard smiled. “Likewise, sir. How are things?” “Improving steadily,” Victus said. “Thanks to you.” “Enough of that,” Shepard replied, still smiling. “I didn’t come to hear about myself.” Victus and Garrus both chuckled at that. “Then you’d best not talk to anyone,” the primarch said dryly. “Now if you can bear it, there are some people I’d like to introduce you both to…” They spent the cocktail hour being dragged from one influential donor to the next, but Shepard didn’t mind it as much as she had at the council’s gala. No one here had known her personally, so these conversations weren’t quite the minefields the ones at the gala had been. She still felt strange at their praise, but with Garrus by her side and a fizzy asari drink in her hand, she found that she was actually enjoying the evening. Shepard wasn’t sure what to expect for dinner as she was one of only a handful of non-turian guests, but she was pleasantly surprised at the meal. She didn’t recognize everything on her plate, but she couldn’t knock the flavors. “They always retain an asari chef for these kind of events,” Garrus said softly, leaning over to her. “There are usually some asari and salarians present, or the occasional human like you.” Shepard’s eyes twinkled at him. “You sound like this isn’t the first one you’ve had to attend.” “This one is better,” he said, smiling. After the dinner, there was dancing. “How are your legs?” Garrus asked. “You think they can take a dance or two?” She rolled her eyes at him. “You know I’ve been doing my physical therapy every day,” she reminded him. “How are your dancing skills?” He smirked. “Better than yours.” Before she could snark back at him, he offered his hand to take her to the dance floor. Shepard followed his lead, grateful that the dance didn’t require any intricate steps. She reveled in the feel of Garrus’s arms around her as they swayed back and forth together. She smiled up at him, admiring his clear blue eyes and wondering if it was inappropriate to kiss him here. “May I cut in?” came a familiar voice. Shepard reluctantly pulled herself from Garrus’s grasp to see the primarch looking at them with some amusement. “I’ll return her to you shortly,” he said to a disappointed Garrus. Shepard allowed Victus to lead her in the next dance, keeping a much more proper distance between them. “Garrus told me what happened to you,” he said after a while. Shepard’s brows jumped up in surprise, but he didn’t give her the chance to reply. “I wanted to thank you personally,” he said. “For all your sacrifices.” She shook her head, smiling slightly. “I don’t remember making them,” she said honestly. “It makes me uncomfortable with the gratitude I receive.” Victus looked at her keenly. “You may not remember your sacrifices, but you are living with them nonetheless,” he reminded her. “So please, accept our gratitude when it’s offered.” She smiled. “I’ll try.” When the dance finished, he began leading her back towards where Garrus was waiting. “In the future if there’s anything you want or need that I can grant, just say the word. After all, without you, we wouldn’t be here.” Shepard turned back to him as she took Garrus’s arm. “Thank you, sir.” He gave a slight bow. “Thank you, Commander.” When he had walked away, Garrus turned towards her. “What did he say?” She looked contemplative. “He offered me anything in his power to grant.” Garrus’s mandibles fluttered. “Anything?” “He said anything I want or need,” Shepard replied. She shook her head. “I don’t understand.” He pulled her to his chest in a brief embrace, kissing her on the head in the human fashion. “I know it’s hard for you to comprehend still,” he said softly. “But without you, he would be primarch of nothing.” Shepard sighed as she pulled back from Garrus. “Thinking about all of this is exhausting. One more dance?” she offered. “I’m pretty sure my legs can take it.” He smiled indulgently. “Anything you want.” …
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“Are you seriously reading your own biography right now?” Shepard looked up from her book to see Solana laughing at her. She had been lounging out on the covered patio behind the Vakarian home, enjoying the cooler weather that morning. Shepard, aware of the humor of the situation, couldn’t quite smother her smile. She shrugged. “I’ve got to learn about my past somehow. All my friends have only known me since the Saren investigation.” Solana came to sit on the lounge chair next to Shepard’s. “They could have made all of that up and you wouldn’t know,” she said, waving her hand at the book. “I got three by different authors,” Shepard said, smiling wryly. “That should be enough to get a feel for the truth.” Solana laughed. “One can only hope. Anyways, I came out to ask you if you are interested in a little camping trip before you and Garrus leave. It’s a place we used to go when we were kids.” Shepard smiled. “Sounds great. You know I love seeing all of Garrus’s favorite places.” Solana’s mandibles spread into a smile. “Great! Garrus will show you what to pack. We can leave first thing tomorrow morning.” … Shepard was drenched in sweat as they made their way through the jungle. She didn’t want to admit she was having trouble keeping up. Between the turians’ longer legs and her still-recovering injuries, she was beginning to struggle. Garrus had stopped asking if she was okay after she’s snapped at him for it. She felt guilty now, watching him eye her worriedly but too afraid to say anything, but she hated feeling coddled. She didn’t want to be reminded of her weakness so often. Sometimes she wondered if she was getting a complex. She used to be the most revered soldier in the galaxy. Not remembering what that was like always left her wondering if she could measure up to her past self. She was considering this thought when her knee gave out. Garrus caught her just before she hit the ground. “Sol, we’ve got to stop,” he called out calmly. “I’m alright,” Shepard protested, ignoring the pain in both legs. “I can keep going, I just tripped.” He gave her an exasperated look. “You don’t have to pretend, Shepard. We both understand that you’re still recovering from your injuries. Maybe we shouldn’t have suggested this trip.” “I’ll be fine!” Shepard snapped. “Just…” She huffed angrily, not knowing what she could say. Solana looked from one to the other and began to back away. “I’m going to go scout out ahead.” She slipped away quickly. Garrus lowered Shepard onto a log so she could sit before taking his place beside her. “I’m so sick of this!” she snapped. “I’m tired of being weak. How am I ever supposed to measure up when I’m like this?” “Measure up to what?” Garrus asked, puzzled. “To Commander Shepard!” she cried. “To who I was before all this.” Garrus tilted his head to the side. “You’re still you. Not wanting to admit any weakness? Classic Shepard.” She snorted. “If the stories are to be believed, I didn’t have any.” Garrus smiled slightly. “You were tough, but not invincible. You still are.” She shook her head. “I’ll never be what I used to be. These legs are nearly useless. I’ll never fight again. Never dance again.” Garrus couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry Shepard, but you never could dance.” She looked at him, scandalized. “What do you mean? I’m sure I was graceful before the injuries.” Still laughing, all Garrus could do was shake his head. “Whatever your injuries, I don’t think your dancing could be harmed by them,” he said eventually. “There’s a reason I always lead.” Shepard rolled her eyes. “Some supportive boyfriend you are.” “Look,” he said, his smile dropping. “The war changed all of us. But you’re still the same inside, even if you don’t remember that. You don’t have to be a soldier anymore to be yourself. And I won’t love you any less for the change.” She finally met his eyes. “Promise me?” she asked. “I promise,” he said, equally serious. After about an hour, they continued on their way at a slightly slower pace. Garrus still worried over her, but as far as Shepard was concerned, the greatest injury was to her pride. She refused to admit how relieved she was when they finally reached the campsite. It had been worth it, though. The campsite was beautiful. A large canopy of trees protected the site, with small flowers growing around their roots. They were a short walk from a stream, and Shepard surprised herself by knowing how to fish. When she asked Garrus if she had fished before, all he could do was shrug. She supposed it was a holdover from when she’d been a colony kid. Maybe there was fishing on Mindoir. Mindoir occupied more and more of her thoughts as the date of their trip loomed closer. She was nervous and excited. She didn’t expect to remember anything, but she knew she wanted to at least see the place she had grown up. When she’d talked to Liara about it, the asari warned her that the colony was quite different than it had been in her childhood. What had once been a quaint farming colony was now a bustling port. But Shepard was adamant about seeing it anyway. She wanted to connect to her childhood somehow. The trip to the fishing stream had been successful, so Garrus and Solana cleaned and cooked the fish at their campfire that night. “Wish I could have some,” Shepard commented, looking askance at her packaged MRE. Garrus smiled. “I did bring something that you can eat, but it’s a treat for after dinner.” Shepard’s eyes lit up. “What kind of treat?” “You’ll have to wait and see.” She was very happy to see him pull out a couple bags of marshmallows a short while later. “Now,” he said, handing Shepard her bag, “I understand that humans put these on sticks and… burn them in the fire?” He tilted his head, looking at Shepard for confirmation. She laughed. “Roast them over the fire. Don’t stick it all the way in the flames unless you want it burnt. I take it that you’ve never had marshmallows before.” Solana shook her head as she pushed one onto a stick. “I’ve never seen them before.” “They’re a recent import,” Garrus added. “They didn’t make a dextro version until a few years ago, as far as I know.” “I’ll demonstrate,” Shepard said, holding her marshmallow over the fire, rotating it to get an even roast. “You want to crisp up the outside,” she explained, pulling it away from the fire. “And then the inside is soft and gooey.” She took a bite. “See?” Solana looked skeptical, but she and Garrus both followed Shepard’s lead. She watched them eagerly as they tried their first marshmallows. Solana’s eyes widened after her bite. “I’ve never had anything like this! Humans have this all the time?” Shepard laughed. “Not all the time. Most people just do this when they’re camping. Like us.” When she looked over at Garrus, who had been oddly silent, she saw that he was already at work on his second marshmallow. She smiled and grabbed another for herself. Looking around, Shepard couldn’t suppress a happy sigh. She didn’t have memories of ever just being content like this. There was something beautiful about the woods, and something comforting about being with Garrus and Solana. She knew that she loved Garrus, and Solana was beginning to feel like family. She’d been shocked, at first, when she learned that she and Garrus had been engaged. But now it was beginning to feel like maybe that was the way it should be. “Shepard?” Garrus nudged her. “Your marshmallow—” “Oh!” She pulled it away from the fire, shrugging at the blackened crust. “I was lost in thought.” “What kind of thoughts?” Garrus asked, sounding mildly concerned. She smiled. “All good ones.” “I’m glad,” he said, and smiled. …
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It was with mixed feelings that Shepard left Palaven. She had loved her time on Garrus’s home planet. She enjoyed meeting his family, seeing his old haunts, and learning about a new culture. But as time moved along, she felt a nagging feeling that she should be moving on too. Shepard had been getting calls and messages from her old teammates, telling her what they’d been getting up to in this new world. Liara was back to what she did best—information. On top of her usual Shadow Broker business, she had been using her knowledge and resources to help the rebuilding efforts. Joker was back flying for the Alliance. Wrex and Grunt both sent her messages about their efforts to repopulate Tuchanka, with a bit more detail than she would have preferred. Miranda was on the fast track to be confirmed as a Spectre. Tali sent almost daily updates on the construction of her house, with so much enthusiasm for mundane details that Shepard found it hard not to laugh. All her friends were moving on, finding their place in the world. But Shepard wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to be moving on to. Visiting Mindoir was something that felt necessary, but it also felt like she was stalling. As long as she was investigating her past, she didn’t have to decide on a future. What kind of future was there for a war hero who didn’t remember the war? For a soldier who would never fight again? Shepard didn’t know. … Shepard smiled as she watched Solana trap her brother in a tight hug. “I’ll miss you,” the younger turian said before releasing him and surprising Shepard with a hug of her own. “I’ll miss you, too.” Castis Vakarian wasn’t one for hugs, but he held out his hand to shake. “You’re always welcome here, Commander,” he said with a surprising warmth. “And if you ever do decide on a wedding date…” He paused for a brief laugh. “Let me know.” Shepard blushed but wasn’t shaken by the implication. “We will,” she promised him. Castis turned to his son. “You’ll come back to visit soon,” he said, almost an order. “None of this three years away business.” “I won’t do that again,” Garrus agreed. He turned to look at the transport, which was boarding. “We’ve got to go. I’ll send you a message when we reach Mindoir.” With another round of hugs from Solana, they headed onto their transport, to seek a connection to Shepard’s old life. … It took days of travel to reach Mindoir, nearly all the way across the galaxy. When they finally stepped outside the transport terminal, Shepard looked around in wonder. Garrus followed her gaze. It was a pretty sort of place, only made remarkable by the fact that Shepard had been born and raised there. Garrus would be hard pressed to really call it a city—the lack of high-rise buildings made it seem a bit quaint—but it was busy and bustling nonetheless. People strolled in and out of shops and businesses along the tree-lined lanes. Skycars passed overhead. He could hear children’s laughter from a nearby park. In this place, you could almost imagine the war hadn’t happened. Shepard pulled up her omni-tool. “Liara gave me a map of the original settlement. Apparently it changed a lot after the batarian raid.” Garrus blinked in surprise at the casual way Shepard referred to the raid. She had almost never mentioned it before, and certainly never without pain. “…and there’s a few old businesses that still remain, apparently,” Shepard continued, not noticing Garrus’s distraction. “I’m told that kids used to hang out at this old milkshake spot. We should stop by once we get settled in.” “Milkshake?” Garrus asked. Shepard grinned. “If they have dextro, you’re definitely trying it.” They strolled hand-in-hand towards their hotel, feeling no need to rush. They had no set plans, nowhere they had to be. Shepard looked around as they walked, taking in everything. “Does any of this feel familiar?” Garrus dared to ask. She shook her head. “Not one bit. Not like meeting you or seeing the Normandy. But it’s a nice place.” Garrus hummed his agreement and followed Shepard as she navigated them to their hotel. After settling in to a bland but comfortable hotel room, Shepard insisted on heading back out as soon as possible. “I’m getting that milkshake.” So again Garrus followed her out onto the streets until they reached a shop with large words painted on the window: Mendelsohn’s Soda Fountain est. 2153 “This is the place,” Shepard said, suddenly looking a bit anxious. “Everything else here was new. But I must have come here when I was young.” “You know it doesn’t matter if you remember, right?” Garrus squeezed her hand. “It’ll be nice to see it anyway.” Shepard nodded a little, relaxing. “Yes it will.” A bell chimed as they passed through the doorway and looked around. Shepard smiled a little at the retro style of the place, with its checkered floors and large ice cream display. Cushioned pink bar stools sat before a mint green counter and padded booths lined two large walls of windows. It was mostly empty at this time of day, with only a single family sitting in one of the booths. Shepard approached the counter with Garrus following behind, examining the different ice cream flavors. “Well,” came an old man’s voice, “If it isn’t the little Shepard girl. Though I s’pose you’re a war hero now.” Shepard looked up to see an older man coming out of a back room. “You remember me?” she asked as Garrus came up beside her, a hand on her back. “Of course I do, I’m not that old,” the man huffed. “You were in here at least twice a week with that gaggle of friends you had.” “Was I?” she asked, too surprised and eager to try and hide her amnesia. The old man frowned slightly. “You don’t remember?” Garrus stepped forward, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “Hi, Garrus Vakarian. Nice to meet you.” Befuddled but polite, the older man grasped his hand and shook it. “Hank Mendelsohn.” Garrus leaned in a little closer, speaking quietly. “Shepard was injured during the war and has lost some of her memories. It’s not public knowledge. You seem to remember her well… do you think you could share some of that with us?” It could come back to bite them, but Garrus trusted his instincts. He had a good feeling about Hank Mendelsohn. Hank glanced at Shepard’s hopeful face and then at the clock. “We’ve got a bit of time before the after-school rush. I suppose now’s as good a time as any. But first, do you want anything?” He motioned to the menu behind him. “I’d like a milkshake,” Shepard said immediately, smiling. “Strawberry? I remember that was your favorite,” Hank replied. “That sounds perfect.” Shepard beamed. “Do you have anything that Garrus could drink?” “We don’t get a lot of turians or quarians on Mindoir so I don’t have much,” Hank said apologetically. “I can do an ice cream or milkshake that I’m told is more or less equivalent to vanilla.” Garrus chuckled. “Shepard has been talking about milkshakes since our transport landed. I’ll be glad to try one.” After preparing their drinks, “on the house,” he insisted, Hank led them to a booth a distance away from his only other patrons. “Well, now,” the man said with a huff. “Where to start?” He looked at Shepard. “Do you remember much of anything from your childhood?” “No,” Shepard admitted. “Maybe you’d like it if I started with your parents then?” he asked gently. At her answering smile, he began. “I first met your father at a meeting for prospective colonists. He was an interesting man. Sure liked to talk! Thought this whole colony thing was one hell of an adventure. He said his family had been farmers back and back and back a thousand years. Farmed the same plot of land in Europe most of that time. He was so happy that the company was looking for farmers to colonize. Had a real case of wanderlust, that one. Your mama Hannah was more the quiet, practical type. All of us first round colonists got to know each other pretty well before the voyage. Colonizing was new back then and they wanted to make sure we’d succeed.” Hank smiled a little at his captivated audience. “But your dad came to the last colony meeting alone. Told me his wife was pregnant. Well, I thought he was pulling out of the trip and I was sorry to see him go. But your parents…” He shook his head. “They were determined. You were the first baby born on Mindoir. The hospital, if you could call it that, was just two prefabs stuck together.” “That sounds awfully dangerous,” Garrus commented. “Most thought so,” Hank agreed. “But the Shepards were set on this opportunity. They refused to let it pass by. So I got to watch this one grow up,” he said, indicating Shepard in front of him. “You were a bright kid. Made friends everywhere.” “She still does,” Garrus said with a chuckle. “All over the galaxy.” Hank shook his head. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” “So I used to hang out here often?” Shepard said, finally speaking up. Her mind was racing with all she’d learned. “At least twice a week since you were, oh, ten or so. You, the Washington, Zabinski, and Gupta girls were some of my best customers!” He chuckled. “Course, the place was different then. Near everything was burned in the raid.” “How did you survive?” Garrus asked. “I thought that Shepard was the only survivor.” “I was off-world when it happened,” Hank admitted. “Had only been off world three or four times since they dropped us here, but that was one of them. It was hard as hell to keep on going after all my neighbors and friends were killed. But there were new friends, and new customers, and new kids to keep me going. They rebuilt everything bigger and better, thumbing their noses at the batarians.” “Do you know…” Shepard swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Do you know how I survived? The books about it… they make me out to be some kind of hero, fighting back against the batarians. That story… it doesn’t feel right.” “Of course it doesn’t,” Hank said abruptly. “You were just barely sixteen, had never held any gun but a hunting rifle, according to your dad. I heard tell that you hid, either in the woods or the meadow.” “Meadow?” Shepard asked, tilting her head. “Outside of town,” he said. “It’s a spot where the kids used to play, before there was anything to keep ‘em in town. Got some nice climbing trees and a stream running through.” “Is it still there?” Hank nodded. “Not as far out of town as it used to be, but yeah. Let me mark it on your map,” he said, reaching out for Shepard’s omni-tool. He glanced at the clock. “Well, now, I better start prepping for the after school crowd. You two are welcome back any time, but you might want to clear out before the teenagers arrive.” He chuckled to himself as they quickly vacated the booth. …
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The meadow was a lovely place. Moss covered trees edged a bubbling stream that looked just deep enough to wade in. Beside it stretched a large span of grass and wildflowers. Perfect, Shepard imagined, for a game of tag or a race. She smiled at Garrus, standing quietly beside her. “This place…” she paused, trying to parse her thoughts. “I don’t remember it, but it feels comforting. Like my quarters on the Normandy.” “I’m glad we found it,” he said sincerely, taking her hand. She walked through quietly, pulling him along as she stopped to smell a flower or stroke the bark of a tree. “You know, this would be a perfect climbing tree,” she said mischievously. “No doubt lots of kids thought so,” Garrus replied, tapping his finger next to some scratches in the bark. Shepard leaned closer and sucked in a breath as she realized the marks were sets of initials. She practically pushed Garrus out of the way as she searched among the letters for her own. Her hands stilled as she found her initials, worn but present, carved into the bark. She gazed at the letters, trying to burn their image into her brain. Her past had always seemed so abstract, but here was evidence. She was here. She was a child, she lived, and she left her mark. They spent the afternoon enjoying the nature of the meadow, climbing, splashing, and exploring. Shepard held up the day as a perfect memory. Not only did she find a connection to her past, but she didn’t have to put on a false face, worrying about how she was seen. Alone with Garrus, she could be herself… whoever that was. She was still learning. Shepard and Garrus spent days like this, wandering town, visiting Hank Mendelsohn. Getting away to the meadow when the stares in town became too much. “I want to visit it today,” Shepard said suddenly, looking up from the picnic they had brought to the meadow. At Garrus’s questioning look, she clarified, “The memorial.” Garrus nodded in comprehension, but wasn’t sure what to say. The Mindoir memorial was a monument containing the names of every person who had died in the batarian raid all those years ago. When they first arrived on Mindoir, Garrus had suggested visiting it. Shepard had put it off a couple times, so Garrus had gotten the hint. He wasn’t sure what had changed. “Do you want to go when we’re finished here?” he asked. Shepard gave a half-hearted shrug. “No time like the present.” After Garrus ate (and Shepard picked at) their meal, they headed back into town. They dropped off their picnic basket at the hotel and made their way towards the memorial park. The park was a large green lawn with a handful of well-spaced trees and benches, and a few families enjoying the good weather. In the center was a tall white obelisk with a shorter black wall ringing it. Shepard gripped Garrus’s hand when she saw the wall. It was covered with writing and had a door cut into it that led to the tall obelisk inside. Garrus could feel Shepard’s tension as they got closer to the memorial, but he couldn’t understand it. She had spoken of the attack so casually now that she didn’t remember it. What was it about the memorial that caused this reaction? When they reached it, Garrus saw that the outside of the wall had the story of the raid on it, and the inside the names. Shepard scoffed when she read the sanitized version of the raid with an emphasis on the sole survivor. She slipped her hand out of his and stepped inside the door cut into the circle. The names of the dead were carved inside. Garrus followed her, reading the names of strangers until he saw Shepard reach out to touch the wall. He followed her to where she stood, touching her mother’s and father’s names on the wall. He put his hand on her shoulder, offering her silent comfort. He didn’t know what to say, and the silence stretched on. “I don’t know what I thought would happen when I came here,” Shepard finally said. “Somehow I thought this would change things. Like I would feel closer to them or…” She sighed. “Do you think they would be disappointed in me? That I don’t remember them?” “Never,” Garrus said, around the lump in his throat. “They would be so proud of you, Shepard. For everything you’ve done. And I’m sure they still love you, wherever they are.” He paused a moment, remembering that last conversation he had with Shepard before they’d gone into their last battle. “Meet me at the bar,” he’d said. He didn’t know if there was an afterlife, but if their ancestors did live on somewhere, there was no way that Shepard’s parents could be anything but proud. Shepard gave him a shaky smile, patting his hand where it sat on her shoulder. “I want to believe that,” she said. “And you’re probably right. But I just have this… guilt. That I don’t remember them or what they taught me. That I’m not carrying on our family name the way they wanted or whatever.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s silly.” Garrus turned her towards him, wrapping both arms around her. “It’s not silly to think of those things, but I can’t imagine you have anything to worry about. All most parents really worry about is that their kid is a good person. And that they’re happy.” He paused, hesitating. “Are you?” he asked. “Happy?” Shepard was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I think I am,” she said. “Or at least I’m beginning to be.” She smiled at him softly. “When I’m with you, when it’s just us… I’m happy then.” Garrus couldn’t help smiling as warmth bloomed in his chest. “I’m happy with you too,” he promised her. “Happier than I ever thought I could be.” Her smile brightened until it outshone the sun. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” she asked. “To be alone together?” Her eyes twinkled. “That sounds perfect,” he replied. And if they walked a little fast, no one seemed to notice. …
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They had been on Mindoir nearly two weeks, and they didn’t have any departing flight scheduled, had no set plans to leave. Shepard was surprised that Garrus hadn’t said anything about it. Then again, Shepard shouldn’t have been surprised at the consideration Garrus had shown her. Since the day they were reunited on Earth, he had put her first, and the stories her friends told suggested he had been that way nearly since they’d first met. She considered all of this as she set her journal on the bedside table. She rolled towards Garrus, looking at him. “What do you want to do when we leave here?” He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I thought you might want to decide.” She had to hide a smile at the predicable response. She might have to drag an opinion out of him. “I was thinking it was time to settle into some kind of normal life,” she said. “But I’m not sure what that should be. I’m not fit for military work anymore and I’ve been forcibly retired from the Spectres.” “You own that apartment on the Citadel,” Garrus reminded her. “That’s a place to settle if all else fails.” Shepard wrinkled her nose. “The apartment is nice,” she conceded, “But I don’t think I want to live there. The Citadel is so…” “Busy?” Garrus supplied. “Political? Shepard laughed. “I was going to say, maybe… sanitized? It’s just so unnatural and cold. I think I’d like to be closer to nature. Maybe have a garden?” “That’s a good start,” Garrus encouraged her. “Anything else you’re looking for?” The answer came quickly. “Somewhere I can be myself,” she said. “Not too many people looking at me like I’m a hero.” “A smaller colony, probably,” Garrus suggested. “Maybe one that’s dominantly non-human?” Shepard shrugged. “Fine by me. But what about you? What do you want? Do you want to work again?” “I don’t think I have to,” he said slowly. “There were significant monetary awards attached to the medals we’ve received. And I’ve got some very large offers for interviews or books if I want to go that route.” “I asked if you wanted to,” she reminded him. Garrus gave her a wry look, knowing she wasn’t going to let this go. “I want to do something. But I don’t want to go back to C-Sec or the military, or even the Specres if they come knocking. I’m… tired of fighting for my life.” He let out a sigh. “I’ve got an offer from the Primarch,” he admitted. “He wants me on his advisory council. I’d have to travel to Palaven sometimes, and be accessible by comm when I’m elsewhere. The pay is pretty good, and it doesn’t sound that demanding.” “Do you want to take it?” Shepard asked. “Maybe. But it doesn’t mean as much to me as your happiness,” he said stubbornly. Shepard rolled her eyes. “When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that not everything is about what I want?” She sighed. “You may not have realized it, but my happiness is entwined with yours now, Garrus. I won’t be happy until we both are. Now I suspect there must a quiet colony world not too far from Palaven where I could have a garden and you could work with the Primarch. Don’t you think?” Garrus smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I think we can work that out. Is there anything else you want me to keep in mind for our future home?” Shepard looked down at the coverlet and blushed, piquing Garrus’s curiosity. “What is it?” he asked. “Well, I don’t know how you feel about this,” she hedged, “but I’ve been thinking about it since Palaven. What your dad said, about us getting married?” Garrus stared at her, his mandibles flaring involuntarily. “Shepard…” he said, barely more than a whisper. “Do you want…” When he trailed off, she looked up at him, smiling faintly. “I know it hasn’t been that long for me, but I can’t imagine being without you. Do you want to make it official?” “Yes,” he blurted out. “I want it more than anything.” He surged forward, pressing his forehead against hers before kissing her. “I love you, Shepard,” he said softly. “More than anything in the galaxy.” “I love you too,” she replied. “I’m thankful every day that you found me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His subvocals hummed warmly, and it felt like home. … Shepard and Garrus decided the best place to spearhead their house hunt was from the Citadel. Up to this point, Shepard hadn’t thought too much about her financial situation. She knew she didn’t need to worry much about money, which was good enough for her. Now, examining her accounts more closely, she was shocked by what she found. Nearly all of her military pay had gone into savings since she joined at 18 years old. She supposed she’d either not been interested in spending it or not known what to do with it. Garrus was in a similar situation. “When I told you I probably didn’t need to work, I meant it,” he said smugly. “This future house of ours is getting bigger and bigger,” she teased him in response. “Sure, one guest room becomes five guest rooms, and before I know it, you’ve invited the entire Normandy crew to live with us,” he teased back. “I don’t see the problem,” she deadpanned. There were two different colony worlds in consideration, one levo and one dextro, with mixed populations living on them. “I want there to be a pretty big town,” Shepard had requested. “But I don’t want to live in town. I’d like some space and privacy.” Once they’d narrowed things down, they took a trip to see their potential homes. It didn’t take long for Shepard to fall in love with the first colony. It was warm, lush, and green, with a small city situated near a large natural lake that had many private coves and inlets. While a few people in town did approach to thank Shepard for her work during the war, they didn’t make her feel as watched or uncomfortable as she often felt on the Citadel. They viewed three houses, two of which were on the lake. “I’m going to teach you to swim one of these days,” Shepard insisted, making Garrus groan. “I’ll just admire the water from here, thanks,” he replied. She smirked. “How do you feel about boats?” she asked, and he groaned again. The third house was Shepard’s favorite, a hand-crafted wooden home which charmed her after spending much of her time in ships, space stations, and prefabs. It was large with beautiful views of the lake, and private with a long driveway through a thicket of trees. The property went all the way to the water with a small rocky beach. Best, Shepard thought, was the indoor hydroponics garden so she could grow food for Garrus in addition to her own outdoor garden. She was very intrigued at the thought of trying her hand at growing some dextro plants. “It’s a bit big for our needs,” Garrus commented. “What happened to five bedrooms for all our Normandy guests?” Shepard teased. Despite playing devil’s advocate, Garrus admitted to himself that he was fond of the house too. The views were unparalleled, and the warm weather was ideal for turians, which was probably why so many of them resided on a levo planet. They then traveled to the second colony world on their agenda, but by the time they exited the transport, Garrus was already less fond of it than the first colony. “It’s freezing here,” he commented. Shepard couldn’t help laughing at him. “On Earth we call this temperate.” Though the town and the houses were nice, none of them could compare to the first colony and the house by the lake. Certain that it was the one, Shepard and Garrus returned immediately to make an offer on the home. The sellers turned out to be ecstatic to be turning over their home to a pair of war heroes and were eager to accept. “Next stop, Palaven,” Garrus said. “We need to tell my family we’re getting married.” “We should probably set a date,” she replied. “And whatever other stuff you have to do to plan a wedding.” “Actually, we should probably compare notes,” he said. “I’m sure that human and turian practices are different.” On the flight to Palaven they talked about marriage ceremonies from their different cultures and discussed what traditions they wanted to keep. A turian bonding ceremony could be a large or small affair, depending on their personal and familial places in society. Turians often had large extended families who would need to be invited, but Garrus assured Shepard that this need not be the case if she preferred a smaller wedding. “To be honest, it would be a relief not to have to stand up in front of all my distant cousins and father’s political friends,” he said, grimacing. “I’d prefer just our closest family and friends,” Shepard admitted. “I don’t want to have to pretend to remember things at our wedding.” They found another difference when Shepard canvassed the idea of wedding rings. “Rings are easy to remove,” Garrus said. “Tattoos are not.” While turians didn’t exchange facial markings unless one was barefaced, it was traditional for bonded couples to each get a small tattoo that they designed together. Turians considered the marriage state to be permanent. If one did make the decision to split from a partner, it was an involved and painful process to have the tattoo removed from turian hide. “We should do both,” Shepard said firmly. “Rings and tattoos.” “My father will also probably want you to take my markings, at least symbolically for the ceremony,” Garrus said hesitantly. “They’d be painted on, not permanent.” “I have no problem with that,” she assured him. There were some specifically worded vows that needed to be part of the turian ceremony, but Garrus said he’d always admired the human idea of writing their own vows. Shepard saw no reason why they couldn’t do both here as well. “A blended ceremony is perfect for us,” she said. “That’s how I want our life together to be.” The one part of turian marriages that Shepard couldn’t get her mind around was that both parties normally married in formal military uniform. “I am not marrying you in my dress blues,” she said firmly. “I told you I look pretty in a dress. I’m sure that asari boutique in Cipritine would love my business.” “You do look pretty in a dress,” Garrus agreed, nuzzling her neck. “I’ll be happy to have you bonded to me in one.” And in this harmony, they landed on Palaven to give Garrus’s family the news. … Solana was ecstatic, begging to be involved in the planning. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen,” she promised enthusiastically. Castis was far more sedate, but it was clear that he was glad his son decided to behave like a “proper” turian for once. Shepard had no intention of telling him that technically she proposed the second time. When Garrus told the primarch, Victus wanted to host the ceremony himself. Seeing visions in the primarch’s eyes of the ‘event of the year’, Garrus politely declined. “I think my father will want to exert his right as head of the family to host it,” he said, relieved that his excuse was almost certainly true. A short conversation with his father afterwards assured him of it. “It’s my right and responsibility to host your bonding ceremony,” Castis said firmly. “Even if you insist on not including your extended family in the invitation.” With a little bit of discussion, a date a few months away was agreed upon. When that was settled, Castis opened up a new line of discussion. “Have you considered how you are going to break this to the press?” He sighed at the pair’s blank looks. “You are both public figures, Commander Shepard in particular. This will be an item of public interest. I recommend averting any gossip by speaking to the press on your own terms before the news can leak out.” After Castis left them, Shepard and Garrus discussed the problem. “I’m not really worried about what the press will say, but I don’t want to be followed or bothered,” Shepard said. “It’s not a bad idea to do an interview,” Garrus suggested. “Maybe we can contact Emily Wong? You always had a good relationship with her, and she works for Citadel News Net. You can get the story out there and then disappear.” “I can get the story out there?” she asked with a raised brow. “You’re going to make me face this by myself?” Garrus shrugged, smiling slightly. “You’re the one everybody wants to talk to.” Shepard sighed, dropping her face onto the table. “I’m not going to get out of this, am I?” He chuckled. “No, probably not.” …
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Garrus and Shepard winced away from the comm at Tali’s excited squeal. It was a few moments more before any of her words became intelligible. When Tali finally ran out of questions, Shepard did her best to answer. “Of course you’re invited to the wedding. No, we don’t have a date set yet. Garrus’s dad is hosting it on Palaven. And yes, you can come dress shopping with me if you want, but I didn’t think quarians had much interest in fashion,” she said, bemused. Tali huffed. “Just because I can’t wear it doesn’t mean I don’t care about it. You promise me you’ll let me know when you plan to go dress shopping?” Shepard laughed. “Yes, I promise. Anyways, we’ve got to go. We have to call Liara next.” One by one they called their friends to share the news, fielding requests, questions, and lots of excitement. Afterwards they were spent from all the enthusiasm. “Just wait,” Garrus said. “If you think this is exhausting, you won’t know what to do when the public finds out.” Shepard’s only response was a groan. … “Don’t be nervous,” said a perfectly calm Emily Wong. “This is going to be great.” Shepard smiled despite her discomfort. “I hope so.” “Recording in five,” said a man from off camera. Emily straightened, smiling at the camera as the countdown ended. “Welcome to Citadel News Net. I’m Emily Wong. Today I’m joined by the incredible Commander Shepard, the woman who won the war.” “Now Emily,” Shepard interjected, “It’s hardly fair to say that I won the war alone. Everyone out there had an important part to play, and I always had an incredible team at my back.” “Always so modest!” Emily said with a grin. “Regular viewers of CNN might remember being introduced to the Commander’s team during the Council’s awards ceremony. Can you tell me a little about what happened when you went up into the Crucible?” “Unfortunately not,” Shepard said, a false smile playing on her lips. “Everything is classified. But we were all there to see the results. The Crucible did everything it promised to and thankfully many of us are left to enjoy this new world.” “What happened to you in the aftermath? It was months before the Alliance announced your survival. Many people believed you to be dead.” Shepard nodded. “Well, initially I was in a coma so they weren’t far off. I wasn’t awake to remember it, but in the first chaos after the Crucible fired and crashed to Earth, I was dug out of the rubble and rescued by an old acquaintance who prefers not to be named. She used her personal resources to see to my care while I was healing. I doubt I would have survived if she hadn’t found me. When the Normandy returned to Earth, she contacted a member of my team who retrieved me and brought me to debrief with the Alliance. At that point I was far enough along in my recovery to return to a mostly normal life, though I unfortunately continue to have health issues that will prevent me from returning to active duty.” “How does that make you feel, Commander?” Emily asked. For a moment Shepard had a flashback to her Alliance-assigned psychiatrist asking the same thing. “It’s odd and a little unsettling to know I can’t return to what I’ve spent my life doing,” Shepard admitted. “But it gives me a lot of opportunities to expand my horizons. I’m looking forward, not back.” “That’s a very positive outlook,” Emily said with a smile. “In the months since, how have you filled your time?” “I spent quite a while working on the repairs on Earth and the Citadel. It was inspiring to see everyone pitching in to help each other even though the immediate threat was gone. More recently, I took a trip to Palaven and then to Mindoir.” “I expect most of our audience knows that Mindoir is your home colony. You were well-known for being the survivor of a batarian raid there long before you became famous as a soldier and the first human Spectre. I believe this is only the second time you’ve been known to return since the raid. How was that experience for you?” “The colony has changed significantly since I grew up there, but it’s wonderful to see how people can bounce back from adversity. For me the trip was healing,” she answered. “I’m glad to hear that, Commander. But I’ve got to admit, I’m incredibly curious about your trip to Palaven! I understand this might be related to some news you want to share?” Shepard smiled. “Yes, I’d like to share that in a few months’ time, I’ll be marrying my former teammate and dear friend Garrus Vakarian.” Emily smiled widely. “Congratulations, Commander! I’m glad to hear that you’re finding some happiness after the war. But I have to ask… some of our human viewers might find it strange that you’re marrying a turian less than thirty years after the First Contact War. Has that been strange for you? Did you have to overcome any personal biases?” “Emily, in my journeys and work around the galaxy, I’ve found incredible people of every race. I find that hanging onto biases will only hurt yourself. If I’d hated Garrus for his race, I never would have found the happiness I have today.” “Well said, Commander. Are you marrying in the human or turian tradition?” “We’re blending our traditions to create something new. Anything that we find meaningful from either culture will be a part of the ceremony.” “Even in your personal life, you’re a trailblazer!” Shepard laughed. “We’re only doing what will lead to our own happiness.” “Other than getting married, what does life after the war look like for you?” Shepard was silent for a moment. “It looks peaceful. Garrus and I recently purchased a house on a quiet colony where we can just be ourselves. Garrus will be working for the primarch and I’ll be…” She shrugged, smiling. “Well, I’m not sure yet. But I’ll figure it out.” Emily smiled. “I’m sure you will. More from Commander Shepard after the break!” … Garrus was waiting for her in the green room after her interview had finished, and he greeted her with a kiss. “You were amazing,” he said. “As always.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather not have to do it again anytime soon, if it’s all the same to you.” “No more interviews,” he promised. “At least not for a long while. Now, I think you wanted to do some shopping for our new house?” He laughed as Shepard’s eyes lit up. Shepard dragged Garrus to nearly every furniture store on the Citadel, not to mention the antique stores, home decor stores, and even the wallpaper, carpet, and paint stores. “I don’t mind this shopping,” Shepard said, practically skipping through the aisles of furniture. “I’m glad you’re having fun,” Garrus replied, smiling to see her happiness despite his own boredom with the task. She would probably keep going for a while yet if they hadn’t planned to get off the Citadel before the interview aired. Shepard was known to be a private person and had done very few interviews over the years, so there was no doubt that this would cause a media sensation. Shepard had no desire to stick around and weather the attention she’d surely get, so instead they determined to go to their new house to unpack and move in. Garrus couldn’t wait to be home with her. It was odd to be so close to the dream that during the war had seemed so far away. When they were fighting the reapers a future had seemed impossible. And when he found her in that house on Earth, looking at him so blankly, it seemed even further away than ever. He couldn’t have imagined the way things had turned out. The night before they left the Citadel, Garrus didn’t dare sleep. If he closed his eyes, he feared it might all go away. … The house appeared, nestled between the trees, looking as warm and beautiful as ever. Shepard couldn’t wait to get inside. The door, recognizing her handprint as she gripped the handle, swung open wide. With Garrus following, she stepped through the entry into the large living room where she imagined hosting gatherings of friends. Only a bar separated the living room from the spacious kitchen, where she had every intention of learning to cook, or finding out whether it was something she had already learned years before. Across the room she peered through the open double doors into the study and library, designed to hold shelves full of antique paper books. She’d have to start collecting. Another doorway led to a small room that they’d decided to turn into an armory of sorts. She may be retired, but that didn’t mean she was getting rid of her guns. She continued into the dining room, which had some of the most breathtaking views across the lake. A set of French doors stood waiting for someone to open them and walk out onto the large covered deck to enjoy a drink during sunset. Despite this temptation, Shepard turned around to head upstairs. The master bedroom was the largest, with the best views and a large balcony, but Shepard made sure to inspect all four guest rooms first before entering her sanctuary. She looked over the elegant room and spa-like master bath before sighing in contentment. Her house was just as wonderful as she remembered. “Are you finished with your inspection?” Garrus asked, humor in his voice. “I hope it passed, since we already bought the place.” She turned, a sheepish grin on her face. “Just basking,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around him. “We’re going to be happy here.” “Yeah, I think we are,” he replied, smiling down at her. She nodded. “I’m sure of it.” … They slept on a portable air mattress the first night, which almost tugged at Shepard’s memory. “The Alliance probably uses something similar,” Garrus said. “No doubt you’ve slept on one during away missions. But personally I’m hoping for never again.” He rubbed his lower back ruefully. Fortunately, their belongings began arriving the next morning. Unfortunately, they were also beginning to get constant calls and messages from the media—and one irritated message from Alliance Command. Shepard’s interview had aired. They kept their omni-tools on just long enough to accept the final furniture delivery before shutting them off to avoid the constant callers. “I swear I said in the interview I wanted to be left alone,” Shepard muttered. Garrus squeezed her shoulder. “It will die down in a few days. We have plenty to keep ourselves busy with until then.” And they did. While the furniture had mostly been placed when it was delivered, there were boxes of other necessities and accessories for the house, as well as their own belongings from the Normandy. Garrus started by unpacking things like sheets and towels, but Shepard was eager to look at her own things that were packed away. Now that she knew a bit more about her past she hoped they might make more sense. But even with all she’d learned about herself, not everything did. “Hey Garrus?” she called, lifting a few items out of a box. “Do you know what these are?” When he entered the room, he saw in front of her a small crystal, a smooth rock, and a very familiar piece of blue armor. He swallowed tightly. “The crystal was a gift from Bakara, the female krogan you saved. The rock came from Rannoch once you freed it from the geth.” “And this?” she asked, holding up the blue chunk. Her innocent gaze didn’t waver. “It was mine,” he said finally. “Part of the armor I was wearing when… when I got these scars.” “The gunship?” she asked after a moment, and he nodded. She looked down at the piece, turning it over in her hands. “That must have been a defining moment if I kept this,” she said quietly. “I wonder if I knew I loved you then.” “I don’t know,” Garrus said honestly, pulling her close to him. He rested his chin on her head. “You never told me when you realized that you were in love with me. You only said that it had been growing all along.” Shepard sighed, quiet for a moment. “I know I’m different now. I’m more open about things. You’re the love of my life and I hardly told you anything back then.” “You weren’t doing it on purpose,” Garrus was quick to assure her. “You were more guarded then. You had reason to be. And some things just hurt too much to talk about.” “Even so,” she said, shrugging in his arms, “I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to be closed off from the people I care for.” That evening before bed, she wrote in her journal. I don’t know for sure, she wrote, but I believe everything must have changed that day. When I found him again and nearly lost him forever. When he chose to stay with me despite Cerberus. Despite everything. I must have loved him then.
I don’t know how I could do anything but love someone like Garrus.
…
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After a few days, Shepard and Garrus decided to check their omni-tools to see what they’d missed. Hopefully the press furor had died down enough to leave them turned on. Shepard parsed through the messages from the media, from old acquaintances, and from the Alliance, who were angry that she hadn’t warned them about the interview or let them guide her through it. She ignored those, but something else caught her attention. “Six missed calls from Liara,” Shepard said in surprise. “I’d better call her back. I hope nothing bad happened.” Liara picked up immediately, her face filled with relief. “Shepard! Thank goodness. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get through to you?” Shepard relaxed immediately, seeing that Liara was more annoyed than worried. “Sorry, Liara, I didn’t think it would be a big deal for Garrus and I to be off the grid for a bit while we’re setting up house here. The press hasn’t stopped calling since the interview. What’s up?” “Kaidan Alenko called me after he saw your interview. I told him about the new place you and Garrus bought, and he said he was in the neighborhood and would drop in!” “Kaidan…” Shepard frowned. “From the first Normandy, right? He’s the one I haven’t met yet?” “Yes. The last time I saw him was when Councilor Udina was trying to take over the Citadel,” Liara replied, a disapproving tone in her voice. “So why the rush to call me?” Shepard asked. “Of course friends are welcome here.” “Friends…” Liara sighed. “Your relationship with Kaidan was complicated,” she said slowly. “He believed Udina over you. He pointed a gun at you. And there are other things that perhaps you should ask Garrus about.” “Okay,” Shepard replied, feeling a bit perplexed. “I’ll ask him. Thanks for the warning.” “Talk to you soon, Shepard,” Liara said before the feed went dark. … Garrus behaved strangely following Shepard’s conversation with Liara, and would never tell her what those “other things” were that Liara mentioned. Shepard was fed up with other people knowing more than her about her own life. It was the following morning when the doorbell rang, and Shepard opened the door to reveal a handsome man with dark hair and eyes, a few years older than Shepard herself. “Hi Shepard,” he said, with an anxious, hopeful sort of look in his eye. “Kaidan, right?” she asked, and reached a hand out to shake. When he leaned in for a hug instead, she humored him briefly despite her discomfort. “Liara told you about my memory problem?” She showed him to the living room, which was usable despite the boxes that were still strewn about. Garrus popped in, saying a strained hello to Kaidan before telling Shepard he’d be upstairs unpacking. She stared after him, still unable to make sense of his behavior. Shaking herself out of it, she offered Kaidan something to drink before sitting down across from him, noting his disappointment that she didn’t choose the seat beside him. “It’s still a bit hard to believe that you’ve lost your memory. You don’t remember anything at all?” “Not a thing until I woke up afterwards. Aria T’Loak saved my life, but she couldn’t reverse brain damage.” She shrugged. “It’s been a very odd experience to learn about my life from other people.” “I’ll say,” Kaidan agreed, smiling. “Especially since no one person has the full story of what you were thinking or feeling. You have to patch things together only from outside perspectives.” “That’s true,” she agreed. “But I’m trying to look forward, not back. I don’t have to remember who I was to decide who I want to be.” “That’s a good philosophy. But isn’t there anything you wish you could remember?” he asked, his smile falling as an intense look came into his eyes. “Of course there is!” she said. “I don’t have a single memory of my family, just to name one thing.” She shook her head. “But I’m doing the best to replace what I lost and to move on without what I can’t.” Kaidan sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “When we said goodbye, you said we needed space. Distance. You didn’t want to hear what I had to say then. And now, you don’t remember me. Remember us!” Shepard reared back, reeling from his implications. “I’m sorry,” she said slowly. “But this goodbye… was that before or after you pointed the gun at me?” Kaidan looked flustered. “That was a misunderstanding. I’ll apologize again if you need me to.” She waved him off. “That’s not necessary. But it begs the question… what ‘us’ could there have been when there was no trust between us? What ‘us’ could there have been when I was with Garrus? What ‘us’ could you be asking about now, when I’m engaged to be married?” She shook her head, brows drawn into a frown. “I’m sorry, Kaidan, but I don’t understand what you’ve come here for. I think you’d better go. Maybe when you’ve cleared your head a little we can be friends again.” He stood up, looking hurt and anxious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He cut off, shutting his eyes for a moment. “I’ll go. Best of luck to you and Garrus.” She saw him out, feeling confused and angry that she’d been blindsided by this. When he was gone, she sought out Garrus upstairs, who was seated on the floor in one of the guest rooms, trying to put together a bed frame. “Why didn’t you warn me about him?” she asked immediately. His head snapped up. “Warn you?” he asked, mandibles fluttering. “He thinks there’s something between us! I think he came here to try to get me back!” Shepard was very nearly outraged at the presumption, ready to continue her rant when Garrus cut her off. “There was something,” he said forcefully, trying to mask the hurt such an admission gave him. His words stopped Shepard short. “When?” she asked, with a sick feeling in her stomach. Garrus sighed, patting an empty space on the floor in front of him, and Shepard reluctantly sat down. She didn’t want to imagine that she had every betrayed Garrus or hurt him in that way, but between what Kaidan had said and how Garrus was acting, she was terrified. Garrus began, “When I joined the crew on the first Normandy, he was one of the first members of your ground team. The only one who’d been with you on the Normandy since it first left dry dock. Not that you’d worked together long—the Normandy’s maiden voyage was what took it to Eden Prime and started all of this reaper business.” He continued, “Early on, there were already rumors going around that you two were interested in each other. The crew loved this kind of gossip since it was forbidden, you being his commanding officer. It was confirmed the night before we landed at Ilos, when he was seen going into your quarters and didn’t leave until we’d arrived. That kind of thing can’t be hidden on such a small ship.” During the last few sentences, he refused to meet her eyes. “You carried on a relationship of some kind until the collectors destroyed the first Normandy. You didn’t meet up with him again until we landed on Horizon with Cerberus. Your reunion didn’t go well and it seemed like you were broken up after that.” Shepard dared to speak up. “So this was all… before you and I got together? You’ve only been acting weird because it was my ex coming to visit? It wasn’t something worse?” Relief flooded her veins. “It was before us,” Garrus quietly confirmed. “But I always felt like if he hadn’t screwed up so badly on Horizon, I never would’ve had a chance with you. I was worried that without that baggage, he would come in and sweep you off your feet again.” Shepard could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Garrus, that’s ridiculous! I would never just leave you like that, not for anyone!” His mandibles drew in tight to his face. “You didn’t really consider your other options after you lost your memory. Sometimes I worry that you’re only with me because I was there.” She huffed. “Liara was there, I didn’t go running after her. Look at me, Garrus.” She waited until he finally met her eyes. “Without my memories to rely on, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. Do you want to know how I felt when I met you?” She could see both the curiosity and hesitation in his eyes. “I knew that you were dangerous,” she started, seeing his eyes widen, “but not to me. I knew I could trust you. You would never hurt me.” A small keen escaped his subvocals, and she took his hand in her own. “I don’t feel that with everyone. When I met Kaidan just now, I was… uncomfortable. My instincts were warning me not to trust him too far. And I’m sure they’re right, just as they were with you.” She smiled at him softly. “I love you Garrus. I chose you. Please don’t ever doubt me.” With that last provocation, Garrus took Shepard into his arms, lifting her onto his lap. He held her tight, his face pressed into her hair. “I’m sorry for doubting you,” he said. “But I have so much trouble believing you chose me sometimes. I can’t always see why.” “Then I’ll be there to remind you,” she said, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Every day of our lives.” …
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Shepard exited the dressing room and stopped in front of her friends, waiting for a reaction. She heard sniffling from inside Tali’s helmet. “That bad, huh?” Tali jumped up from her seat and whacked Shepard on the side of her head. “I’m crying because you look so beautiful, you bosh’tet!” Liara smiled from her seat, her eyes looking shiny. “Take a look for yourself,” she said softly. Shepard turned to the mirror. The dress was simple. Soft white silk fell from a boat neck, clung to every curve, and hung in an elegant drape to the floor. The sleeves just met her wrists and a short train flowed behind her. Knowing little about dresses, she had ignored this one at first. Only the saleswoman’s insistence had her trying it on. “Garrus is going to love this,” she heard Solana say from behind her. Shepard stared at herself, hardly able to believe how elegant she looked. She wasn’t used to feeling beautiful. “This is the one,” she said, once she found her voice. Before leaving, they’d added some shoes (flats, Shepard insisted), and a long, flowing veil made of lace patterned in native Palaven flowers. Shepard couldn’t wait for their wedding day so she could surprise Garrus. He’d so rarely seen her in anything but armor or casual wear. He’d be so speechless he wouldn’t be able to speak his vows! … When they were on Palaven, Solana—self-appointed wedding planner—was constantly asking Shepard what kind of flowers she wanted, what kind of music, what colors she wanted the linens to be. Shepard wasn’t terribly interested in those details. The thing she really cared about was that she finished the day married to Garrus. She was ready to make that commitment to him, and the details didn’t really matter. After a number of non-committal answers from Shepard, Solana finally realized this and embraced the free reign she’d been given. Shepard liked Solana’s new method of making decisions—picking everything herself and only requesting approval. Shepard preferred to spend her time with Garrus, getting to know all the things about him she assumed she used to know. Or simply being alone together, exploring their new home, exploring Palaven. Enjoying life. She assumed she’d been different before, more serious. A war had warranted that. These days she enjoyed the look on his face when she surprised him with a well-timed joke. Things weren’t perfect, but the world was getting better every day—there was no need to be solemn. Sometimes Garrus had to travel for work—his new job on Palaven wasn’t just for show. It was those times, alone in their new house, that she became introspective. Sure, she was enjoying growing her new gardens, but that wasn’t enough to fill her time and make her feel productive. She needed something more to grant life meaning. She was starting to feel… useless. And she hated that. She brought the problem to Garrus after he came home, hoping he would have some ideas. “I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished anything, but I also can’t do anything I used to do,” she said, frustrated. “And frankly, I’m getting bored.” “Just because you don’t remember doesn’t make your accomplishments moot,” Garrus said, latching onto the part that bothered him most. “I believe you, but it still doesn’t feel true somehow. But that’s beside the point. I need some way to keep myself busy.” She shrugged. “Maybe some kind of charity would put your mind at ease?” he suggested. “Any idea you have, I know Liara would be happy to help you get it off the ground.” “Maybe something with kids?” Shepard said, thinking aloud. “There’s probably a bunch of orphans from the war.” His expression stiffened, and he looked away. “Garrus?” she asked, a little alarmed. “What is it?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Just… something I remembered talking about before the final battle.” She stared at him worriedly, but he waved her concerns away. “I think a fund for war orphans would be a great thing,” he said, still sounding a bit off. “With your support, lots of people would donate.” “Yeah, sure,” she agreed, and fell into silence. She watched him, wondering what could have shaken him so much. Something about the war orphans? A realization hit her. “Garrus, did we—” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Did we talk about adopting? Is that what…” She stared at him, unable to finish. He shook his head, giving her a half-smile. “You always were too perceptive,” he said, an attempt at a joke. “It wasn’t much more than an off-hand comment,” he said. “But it was part of the dream I clung to when we were trapped outside the system, unable to come look for you. Not knowing if you were okay. Our future gave me something to fight for through that battle, when everything looked hopeless. That dream was the only hope I had until I saw your face again.” Shepard couldn’t help blinking back a few tears at that. “Even though I didn’t remember you?” she had to ask. “Even though,” he agreed. “Just seeing you again was more than I dared to hope for. You meant—you mean—everything to me.” “You mean everything to me too,” she whispered, leaning into him. After a moment, she spoke again. “I might consider adopting someday. But right now I’m happy with just us. I think I’m still trying to figure myself out.” “That’s fine,” he said, holding her close. “If I only ever have you, that’s more than enough.” She smiled into his chest. “Have I told you how wonderful you are lately?” His laugh vibrated in his chest. “Not today.” “Consider this your reminder.” … They hadn’t lived long in their new home before Shepard decided they needed a car. “It takes too long to call a skycar from town. What if there is an emergency?” she said. Garrus didn’t respond, only grimaced as he had flashbacks to the Mako. And later, clung tight to the door handle as Shepard drove them home in their brand new skycar. “You big baby,” she said. “My driving is fine.” He sighed in relief as she parked the car, practically leaping out the moment she unlocked the doors. “Next time, I drive,” was all he said. Shepard rolled her eyes. … They arrived on Palaven a week before the wedding was set to occur. There were a surprising amount of things that needed to be accomplished to prepare for a wedding. Shepard thought she might feel nervous, but as the day approached, she only felt more certain about her choice. She loved Garrus. Marriage to him could only make her life better. She didn’t remember her life before, but from everything she heard, it sounded like it was filled with pain and strife. Maybe in some ways this loss of memory was a blessing. Of course it hurt to not remember her parents. But she also didn’t remember losing them. It hurt that she didn’t remember falling in love with Garrus and making love to him for the first time. But she didn’t remember dying either, or fighting a war that seemed impossible to win. Sometimes Garrus seemed weighed down with those memories, and she wanted nothing more but to help shoulder that burden. But she couldn’t. Instead, she held him in the night when bad dreams came and brightened his days with jokes and laughter. She made it her job to show him that the future would be a beautiful place. And she knew it would be. The days counted down to the wedding, until the day that she stood just outside the small Vakarian temple in the back garden, listening for the music that would lead her inside. She heard the cue. “Well,” she said to herself, “here I go.” …
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As the tattoo artists applied their bondmarks, Shepard reflected on the ceremony. It had gone by in a blur, with just a few moments captured like snapshots in Shepard’s memory. All her friends smiling at her as she entered the temple. Garrus’s expression when his eyes first met hers. The cold pull of a paintbrush across her cheeks. Garrus’s wavering subvocals when he said the words “I will.” His lips plates pressing against her in a kiss. She had almost managed not to cry, but when she spoke her personal vows, those emotions had become too much.
"When I first woke up after the war, I was lost. And then you found me. You were kind and patient while I figured life out. All the while, I learned from our friends how you had stood by my side for years, always putting me first. I could witness every day how you still did, and I fell in love with you all over again. You were always there for me when I needed you. And this is my vow to you, Garrus Vakarian. I vow to always be there for you when you need me, for the rest of our lives."
His long fingers had come up to her cheek, wiping the stray tears away before speaking his own vows. "I would have followed you anywhere, and for years I did. Into battle, danger, and uncertainty. And then you went somewhere I couldn’t follow." His subvocals had wavered so harshly in that moment that Shepard almost started crying again. "I thought you were lost to me forever, that we would never get this chance. Thank the spirits I was wrong. Today I’m content to follow you somewhere new, into happiness and peace. My vow to you, Jane Shepard, is to remain by your side for the rest of our lives." When the ceremony had ended, their guests enjoyed drinks while the two of them were ushered back into the main house where their matching tattoos were quickly applied. After a few months of discussion they had decided upon a small joined wing and star to represent themselves, with some detailing that resembled the clan tattoos that dotted Garrus’s, and for the moment Shepard’s, nose and cheeks. The design was closed in an unbroken circle, a symbol of their commitment matching the rings they now wore. They’d bought the rings separately, hiding them from each other until the ceremony. Shepard smiled down at the ring on her hand, examining it while the tattoo artist worked. The stone was a pale blue, the same shade as Garrus’s eyes. No facets were cut into the face of it, leaving the top round and smooth and seeming to glow from within. It was set on a platinum band with no other adornment. She loved it. The one she had given Garrus was a thick titanium band set with a small vertical line of deep blue sapphires. That shade of blue always reminded her of the armor he wore more often than not—she’d forever associate the color with him. Garrus, seeing her looking, reached out to take her left hand. “It looks as good on your hand as I thought it would. I hope you like it.” She smiled warmly at him. “It’s perfect.” She almost moved to kiss him, but remembered just in time that the tattoo artist was still at work. It wasn’t long before Shepard got her wish and was able to kiss her new husband to her heart’s content—at least until they were dragged out to join the party. Not that Shepard didn’t want to dance with her friends and new husband, but she’d been quite content with kissing him. The reception was held outdoors in the back garden of the house, decked out with tiny fairy lights and draped fabrics. The effect was magical, and Shepard reminded herself to thank Solana for putting so much work into it. She’d created a miracle, considering the shortages that were still plaguing the post-war galaxy. The music had been a wild mish-mash of traditional turian music, human music, and modern hits. It seemed that every time she tried to pause to talk to a friend, someone was dragging her back onto the dance floor—despite the jokes they made at the expense of her dance skills. To Shepard’s disappointment, her talent for dancing had not improved with the healing of her legs. She wouldn’t have minded being dragged back to the dance floor so often, except that every time she got up, her glass of wine disappeared. The wait staff Castis had hired for the wedding might have been a bit too efficient. Eventually they had a late dinner and followed up with a few different traditions, human and turian. There was a quiet moment when she and Garrus brought a plate of the fine wedding food back into the temple to ask the spirits to bless their union. Then they were back out among the party where they cut two cakes, had a number of champagne toasts, and continued to dance the night away. When it was getting late, Castis approached the couple. “I have a gift for you,” he said. The two exchanged glances. “Really, hosting the wedding was enough of a gift,” Shepard said. “That was a duty, albeit a pleasant one,” Castis replied. “I know you two didn’t plan any more of a honeymoon than heading home tomorrow.” “Who needs a honeymoon when you live in paradise?” Shepard had said. But it seemed her new father-in-law had other ideas. He continued, “I took it upon myself to give you one, however small. I’ve made a three-night reservation for you at Hotel Cerulean in downtown Cipritine. I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves.” Garrus’s browplates shot up, his mandibles flaring. “That had to cost a fortune, dad. Are you sure?” Castis put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’re my only son, Garrus. Allow me to spoil you every once in a while. Congratulations, both of you.” And he slipped away before Garrus could protest further. Shepard looked up at her husband. “Garrus?” He pulled his attention back to her. “It’s a resort hotel, extremely luxurious. This is… an extravagant gift.” “Then we’d better make the most of it, shouldn’t we?” she asked, smiling as she wound her arms around his. “One last dance before we go?” After a long line of hugs and kisses from friends, they left the reception with the ceremony of a formal turian military salute, and slipped into the skycar that had been waiting for them. Someone, likely Solana, had packed their belongings and had them waiting for them in the car. In a few moments they were headed to their hotel, and the party went on. According to turian tradition, it would continue until sunrise. … They spent two full days basking in the luxury of their hotel, particularly enjoying the gourmet food and full service spa. But at the end of it, Shepard was ready to go home. She wanted to begin their real life together. When the transport landed back on their colony, Shepard let Garrus take the wheel to drive them home. “Tell me about our adventures,” she requested, snuggled contentedly against his side. “Our adventures?” Garrus asked, bemused by the request. “We’ve been on so many together. You must have some good stories.” He glanced down at her, a smile spreading his mandibles. “I’m sure I do. What do I get in exchange for a story?” Shepard’s lips spread into a smile. “A kiss?” she bargained. Garrus let out a low chuckle. “I get those all the time. Something more exciting?” He wiggled his brow plates. Shepard grinned. He didn’t have to bargain for that. She thought she’d rather surprise him with something he wasn’t expecting. “I’ll go shooting with you. On the beach.” His mandibles fluttered and he blinked down at her in concern before turning back to watch where he was driving. “Are you sure?” he asked. The tremble in her hands was still there, even though it was much better than it had been. “I’m sure,” she said firmly. “I want to.”“Alright then,” he said, the warmth in his voice almost like an embrace. “Do you want to hear about the time you dressed me down for taking a headshot?” She grinned. “Did you deserve it?” He laughed. “You can tell me what you think when I’m done.” Had any neighbors been close enough to observe them, they would have been warmed by the happy laughter ringing out as Garrus and Shepard left the car and entered the house to begin the rest of their life. … Shepard hadn’t held a gun in so long. Before, she’d been afraid to do this. She was afraid to fail. To prove to herself that she wasn’t who she used to be. She knew better now. It’s true that she wasn’t the same Shepard she’d been before the war ended, before she lost her memory. But she also knew this: It didn’t mean she was lesser than that woman. Garrus loved her then and now. Whether or not she could shoot this rifle would never change that. Still, she gazed at him uncertainly as he placed the rifle in her hands. The weight felt familiar, comforting, but if she tried to remember firing it, her head began to ache. She blinked, forcing those thoughts away and looked up at Garrus. “Go on,” he said, and motioned to the targets they’d set down the beach. She adjusted her grip subconsciously. A tremor went through her hands as she pulled the trigger, throwing her shot off-course. Frustration possessed her for a moment. “That’s okay,” he said. “You were never able to out-shoot me before, either.” She rolled her eyes. “You could be lying and I’ll never know,” she complained. His only response was a grin, holding a new heat sink out to her, eyes sparkling with unvoiced laughter. Shepard reloaded the rifle and raised it to her shoulder. She’d show him this time. …
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Shepard looked up from the crib as Garrus walked into the room. “What was all that commotion about?” she asked quietly. Garrus couldn’t suppress a small chuckle. “Mordin told Cass that his new sister is too squishy. They started headbutting each other and Titus tried to get between them…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Total chaos.” “Nobody’s hurt, I hope?” she asked. “All the kids are fine,” he assured her. “Miranda’s not too happy since the scene made Aurora cry, but honestly that child would cry over anything.” He shook his head, bewildered. “Miranda’s overprotective,” Shepard replied. “It was so hard for her to have Aurora that she smothers the poor girl. I’ve been hoping she’d let her stay with us for a week or two but…” Garrus snorted. “Not after this.” She sighed. “It was worth a shot.” “Sound asleep?” he asked, nodding his head towards the crib. “Yeah, she has been for a while, I just…” She trailed off. Garrus smiled. “I know. You’re like this with all of them when they first come home.” She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “I can’t help it! They’re so sweet when they sleep.” His smile softened as he rubbed her arms gently. “I know. As soon as you started working with the war orphans I could tell it wouldn’t be long before you asked to bring one home.” “Or three. Good thing you were so receptive,” she said, eyes sparkling. She glanced at the doorway. “I suppose we should get back to our guests.” “Or at least check on the boys to make sure there are no further incidents,” Garrus agreed. “They’re always twice as wild when Wrex brings one of his kids.” They closed the door softly behind them as they left the room and headed down the hallway. “Hey,” Garrus said suddenly, just before they reached the stairs. “I love you.” Shepard pulled him close and kissed him. “I love you too. Thank you for making me so happy.” “You’re the one who’s made me happy. Every single day,” he said. They stood there smiling dreamily at each other until a crashing sound broke them out of it. Shepard sighed. “The boys again?” “The boys,” Garrus agreed. And they marched downstairs. … Garrus and Shepard lived a long, happy life together with their adopted children: Titus (turian), Cassian (krogan), and Lilith (human).Shepard ran a charity that first focused on orphans of the reaper war but then grew to support orphans from a multitude of causes. Garrus remained a top advisor to the primarch for all of his life. They continued to invite their friends and family to parties and visits at their lake house until they had to build a guest house to hold everyone. They spent their free time dabbling in various hobbies. Shepard learned to cook and grew the vegetables and fruits for many of their meals. Garrus finally learned to paint. They continued their shooting contests on the beach. Most importantly of all, they found peace. …