thearchangel | IC INBOX

[It's the small hours of the morning when the call comes, an hour or two after midnight; Shepard sounds tired, feels tired. But it's nothing to signify.]

Hey, uh. Garrus? Are you up?

[She asks only once, because if he isn't... Well, there's no need to wake him. But if he is, then... Well. She hopes he is.]

[Well that's not something he expected to get. Not here. For a second, when he snaps back to wakefulness, he's disoriented. Looking around, like he's going to see her next to him, or in the room, or - ]

[No, the phone.]

Mmn. Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. Are you - everything all right?

Yeah.

[No.]

Everything's fine.

[Sure, that's why she's calling in the middle of the night. Because everything is fine.]

Look, I'm sorry I woke you. This should wait until morning. [One little crisis and she— what, goes calling for the new guy? But it's hard to explain any of this to her other friends. How to even begin explaining? She'd sound like a psychotic break in progress.] I'm fine, this isn't urgent.

[It had felt kinda urgent, five minutes ago, before he'd woken up.]

I just um... I think you might. Be right. You want to swing by my apartment, for breakfast?

[Shepard sends the address without really waiting for a response, wising she had the balls to just ask for help. To not be sitting along with this in the dark, feeling like her mind was about to start dribbling out of her ears.]

Uh huh.

[The skepticism slips out before he can rein himself in. It's groggy, it's late, can you blame him for falling into old habits? And then he clears his throat.] I mean. Sorry. No, it's all right. I don't need as much sleep as humans...

[He's already sitting up. If she's calling someone she thinks she just met, it has to be urgent. He can hear it in her voice - she still sounds the same when she's worried.]

Right? What do you - [RECORD SCRATCH.]

[Well if he wasn't awake before, he's awake now.]

[There's a long beat of silence.]

I uh. I don't know where you live. Or th - I mean. I could... I still have rations.

Don't

[It's already embarrassing enough to have been this fundamentally wrong about something so personal and intimate as her own damn identity. Still, she doesn't sound angry or even annoyed, just... tired. Exasperated, maybe. Subdued.]

Already sent the address, big guy. Try the GPS sometime.

[She sighs again, old-dog-deep and tired.] Yeah, alright. [you win] You might as well come over tonight, if you want to.

[He's quiet, and so is the next word:] Sorry.

Right. GPS - I'll get used to that.

[Maybe not when his ears and heart aren't ringing with the familiar nickname. When he doesn't feel like he's reeling from it.]

[Still, he checks it out before responding. Thinking.]

I can be there in... looks like twenty minutes. I'll cut it to fifteen if you need it.

I'm fine. [A little of her normal candor comes into it, now. You're being ridiculous, clearly.] You don't have to run.

[Not at night, not through this city, anyways. You wanna get picked up by the cops?]

I'll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in when you get here.

[Shepard's apartment is part of a fairly typical arrangement in one of the glassy high rises on the better side of town. Overlooking the entertainment district, it has a place of pride that speaks both to the money of the city, and to new development— noveau rich. It's not quite a penthouse, no, but it's near the top, and the view is commanding— and the nameplate on the buzzer reads Anderson.

Of course, that's about where the similarities to anything Garrus knew ended. It was a nice place, to be sure; spacious, open-plan, and beautifully appointed, but just as clearly a home, and one Shepard had been living in for some time. There was laundry in the hampers, a dish in the sink, and a roasted-meat smell left over from last night's dinner. Shepard herself is sitting in the living room, on the floor, with her back to the couch and an open bottle in her hand. She looks up expectantly, when he comes in, and sets it aside, as if to get up.

Yes, thank you, she did need vodka to get through this. Don't judge her.]

Thanks for coming.

Edited (shakes fist at html) 2026-01-20 07:36 (UTC)

[He still makes it in under twenty minutes. It's not exactly possible for him to keep much of a low profile, in the city, when he's this tall, compared to the majority of the population. But something happened. Something went awry enough to where she'd reached out. No way he's going to just meander.]

[The area... it smacks of the Citadel. Of the apartment there. Especially the name on the buzzer. He stares at it for longer than strictly necessary, brushing an idle talon over it. Despite her saying just to come in, he knocks, then lets himself inside.]

[If he said he wasn't nervous, he'd be a liar. He'd found a thrift store, at some point, managed to get ill-fitting clothing for the time being, so he wasn't traipsing around her place in his armor. It hangs and pulls all wrong on his anatomy, but at least it's less awkward.]

[His steps are quiet. Movements ginger, like he's assuming he's walked into a private moment, barged into something he shouldn't. And he stands there like an idiot a bit too long before also sitting on the floor. Long limbs folding up into a loose pile.]

I was in the neighborhood. [See: Comedian.] What happened?

[She's quiet for a long, cringing moment.]

This gonna sound stupid. [The crispness of her pronunciation slightly blurred, rounding the vowels and running the consonants together. The ghost of a Kaisou accent living in the back of her throat, long-suppressed, but still stubbornly alive] I had a... vision?

[She gestures with one hand, a cutting motion, chop, as if to divide the facts from the stupidity of that statement.]

I thought it was a flashback or something. Had those. But it wasn't like that, it was calm, and it felt different. Like remembering something that I know didn't happen. Like it was a dream.

I spoke with Lycaon, recently, got him to explain... some of it. You know? [Of course you do. Shepard closes her eyes for a moment, then grabs at the bottle to take a pull. Oh, this is not the good stuff, no sir. But it's good, in its own bad way.] I was in this... bunker. Or maybe it was onboard a ship? No windows, the walls all metal. And you were there. You looked different, your face was—

[Her hand describes a clawing shape, bent around her own chin and cheek, mimicking vaguely the outline of Garrus' scarring.]

I guess younger? Had to be. There was this huge fucking car. Like, an armored car, or a tank, with its guts opened up, like you'd been working on it, but you weren't working. We were talking. You told me that... you don't really get on with your dad, even though he— Does any of this sound right?

I swear, it felt so real... And then I just. Fell out of it again. Scared the hell out of me, and you gotta know, I don't scare easy.

[He listens. All folded up on her floor and watching her intently, eyes sharp even at this time of night. He doesn't want to admit the little flick of hope in his chest when she says 'vision', or 'dream'. They said - people said - memories could come back. It's too much to hope this would be that.]

[It's too much to hope she remembers...]

[You were there.]

[His head bows. Closing his eyes. He's still listening. Still intensely focused on what she's saying. But the hope is too much. It's almost cloying. Almost choking, and he huffs out a noise that's probably meant to be a laugh, at the description. At the moment.]

Well, I was always ugly. [It comes out easily. A teasing repetition of what she'd said when he'd dragged his battered body out of the medical bay, needing to make sure she was real, that she was back.]

The Mako. That's the... that's the "car". A planetary rover. You were always driving that thing up vertical inclines... always needed repairs. [In the quiet of the apartment, it's suddenly easier to say. To tell her. Even as his voice is thick with unvoiced feelings. The echoes more pronounced than usual.]

It does. It - that was years ago. But I -

I told you about my father when we first started working together. On the Normandy I know.

Yeah. He got you out of mandatory service, got you a job working in [She has to search for the word, right on the edge of memory.] C-Sec?

[She doesn't know what C-Sec is, exactly, the name a label devoid of meaning, but Nepotism is a bad look for anybody, even if you can perform to spec. His voice is coming in thick, and she doesn't dare speculate the emotion behind it— it'd taken her hours and inches to admit she'd need to make the call, and even now Shepard isn't sure she made the right choice.

Shepard, his Shepard, had died— she of the driving-a-tank-up-vertical-inclines, which was (against her will) something that sounded pretty cool. And it wasn't fair to him that she keep peeling the scab off that unhealed wound, not for mere curiosity. Not even if learning about the idea of some former life put a hunger in her that didn't, quite, feel safe to indulge. Or if not knowing if she was losing her mind, her self, was one of the worst fears she'd ever felt.

But she had to know. And now here she is.]

So, I guess that's it. [Grimly said, with a chaser of alcohol: she's not the kind who gives up on a fight, but how do you even fight this? And even if she were to do so... Garrus is not going to be the guy to lean on. He wants his friend back, or so she presumes. Shepard just wants to keep being herself; those two things don't seem compatible.] And here I thought the biggest thing that was gonna happen to me this year was a damn FBI investigation. I wonder how long until the next one.

Mm. It - wasn't a good fit, to say the least. [There's a depreciating little shrug.] Citadel Security. Citadel is... it's a space station. Size of several cities all in one place. C-Sec are law enforcement.

[The least he can do is explain the basics. It helps fill the quiet bouncing around in his head. The questions he wants to ask. Was that all? Just one of those moments on the Normandy? Did she see anyone else in the cargo bay? Wrex? Williams?]

[But he doesn't. He doesn't want to press more than he already is just by being here. He's watching her again, expression as neutral as he can make it. Despite everything, it's still her, still the woman he knows so well. And she's uncomfortable, judging from the body language - or uncertain, maybe. He's suddenly very conscious of the fact he'd plunked himself down on her floor with no invitation, entirely too casually.]

... Do you want me to leave? [Somehow, his question manages to be curious. Concerned for her isn't something he can remove from his vocals, and doesn't try.] I don't know how this works. Maybe if I gave you some space, time, it won't happen. You won't remember.

[It's an offer, and it hurts to make it. Stepping away from her entirely would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done. And if that's what she needs, he will. That's what he's supposed to do - be a buffer, an anchor, against the tide. What he'd always tried to do.]

[To think it could hurt Shepard somehow? Take something from her, take her life from her... He can't. He won't. No matter what it feels like to him.]

Oh, so you were a cop.

[Even curled in on herself as she is, elbows resting on knees, she finds the humor in that, turning to look at him with a teasing, humorous acrimony. Law enforcement? How dare you. But he'd begun by saying it wasn't for him, and so all is forgiven.

And, does she want him to leave?]

No stay. It's... better not to be alone, right now. [She has seen some shit and lost some friends, and the clear and simple fact of it is that you don't leave people alone when they're in the thick of it. That was the rule according to no formal code, nor specific orders, but everyone knew it just the same. You don't abandon people to the dark, any more than you'd leave them behind in a firefight. To do otherwise was to tempt fate, and fate... is such a bitch.] I woke up before I even met you, anyways, and I had the— memory— when you weren't even here.

[She runs a hand through her hair, then, and drops the bottle between them in a silent offer. Here, if you want some. But she also uncurls a little, stretching her legs out, and wondering briefly at the differences between them.]

It's just a real kick in the ass, that's all. You know I was born here, in this city? I grew up on the streets, right down in the gutter, and I worked really damn hard to get to where I'm at— and I got lucky, too. I have friends. I have a history, I've been all over the world and I got my Team, and we've done so many missions... This is my life. I'm Commander Shepard, Navy Seal.

Everybody else I've met since 'Waking Up' is a wolf-man or a pirate or some kind of magic— whatever. That was pretty cool at first. [She smiles a little, cocking her head towards him, because despite herself...it was still cool.] Now I'm wondering if I'm just... a sequel.

[ In the morning, the hazy memory of this moment would make her cringe, but right now there's just enough alcohol in her to move easily through the confession. Something about Garrus is impossible to distrust— and is that from her former life too?]

voice @CMDR J Shepard

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3/13; un: hextechnician

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