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?]

A terrible one, by all accounts.

[He makes a sideways dip of his head, yeah, he knows. That was not the best time in his life by any stretch of the imagination.]

[Something in him untwists when she tells him to stay. If that's what she needs, then he's here. He'll stay here. Though he does try to draw himself in a little more. Pull himself closer, to take up less of her space. Either because he's trying to keep himself from reaching out to her, assuming the familiar closeness, or to be more formal or - he doesn't know what to do with himself, quite honestly.]

[So he picks up the bottle. His talons clink against the glass. He'd never had an issue with alcohol - not human stuff, anyway. The hangover hit harder, but that was about it.]

"A whatever", huh? [There's the first ghost of real humor in his voice in a while. Drinking from a bottle is never an easy task, with his anatomy, and while he'd figured it out a long time ago, it probably looks ridiculous to someone else. The stuff is like drinking pure eezo. Good. That's what he needs.]

[Just a sequel hits harder than the alcohol.]

- No. Absolutely not.

[He says it immediately. Without a second, a moment of hesitation. Like they're back in Cerberus' lair. Looking at the footage, the doubt and the absolute certainty from the team she had nothing to worry about. She doesn't have that memory - but like hell is he going to sit here and have history repeat itself because he showed up and threw her life out of whack.]

You're you. I know it. I'm sure of it. No matter what universe or life or whatever this is. You're Shepard.

[Even if you're not mine.]

[He teases her back and the elbow she digs into him in response is so easy and natural that it'll be hours before she secondguesses it, and even then— It felt right. Good.]

But the 'me' you're talking about is... some kind of big shot space... sailor. [Is she still in the Navy if it's in space? It's hard to imagine, all of it. Certainly the tone of the conversation at the tank— the Mako had been casual, even friendly, but there was that overtone of deference in Garrus' younger face. Like she'd been in command of him.] I don't remember any of it. Aren't you just... She— I— dammit

[English language personal pronouns weren't built for this shit. But Shepard can laugh at herself, and does.]

...Don't you miss her? The person I— [Used to be sounds wrong, even if it feels right. She doesn't know how to parse the emotion, and so bulls past it.] That other Shepard? I asked to come here, but can you honestly say you'd do that for me if I didn't look and sound like somebody you already cared about? If it was just me.

Take your time.

[It's as natural as breathing, that little assurance. Even the way she gets frustrated with herself is familiar. It's only normal he says what he usually would. Right?]

[Does he miss her?]

[The person who saved his life in every possible way. Handed him a new purpose, pulled his head out of his ass, the one person, the one moment, that went right in a slew of bad decisions and consequences. Who always showed up, indomitable, incredible, at the right moment even when the galaxy threatened to crush her. Who liked tiny plastic ships and couldn't dance and loved her crew like one big insane family.]

[He loves her. Missing her doesn't even begin to describe the weight in his chest when he thinks of her.]

[But none of that is going to help the version of her sitting here, wondering if she's going to have to compete with a memory to just exist. And no matter how deeply he feels it, no matter only moments before he arrived they had told each other there was no one without the other, he can't say that. She is Shepard. He can no more cut her down with that information than he could swim.]

We've been through hell and back. More than once. [Is what he says, carefully. More to keep any kind of feeling out of the words than having to really think about it. Only conviction.] I - would be lying if I said I didn't. Anyone would be.

But you... you already helped me out. I'd be a sorry excuse for a man if I didn't return the favor.

[That's a safe answer. A little piece of the truth, because he had told her he owed her one. Hadn't he? She doesn't need the burden of his damned feelings on top of everything else. He'll shoulder those alone. He can handle it. He's not the one dealing with a crisis of identity.]

[The scoff comes out on a breath, like she can't believe he'd use that for ammunition— or like she had already written off the idea of any debt standing between them. Get real, Vakarian.

...but he does have a point.]

I guess I did do that. [She's not used to feeling sheepish.] Thanks. That helps.

[That helps a lot, actually. Her life matters. Who she is, matters. Matters to him too, and for more reasons than just for the sake of a memory. No matter who this space-Shepard turns out to be, or what her relationship is to her life right now, or to Garrus for that matter, right now matters too.]

Wait— ["been through hell and back," he'd said. Even in her tipsy state, Shepard finally puts two and two together, and a grin of delighted, incredulous recognition spreads over her face.] You were on my fireteam, weren't you? You were.

[He's a sniper, he was subordinate to her, and they've got some kind of combat history— it all adds up. Holy shit. But something about that is... strangely gratifying. She likes being right, of course, and now all the little tells are adding up: the way he'd walked slightly behind her, the way he kept maintaining overwatch, even when they were just standing around talking. The way he'd checked corners when coming into this very apartment.

It all added up. And suddenly, she wants to see it, quite badly; how he'd fight, how he would be, that presence at her back. Maybe that's the influence of past lives lived, but it's in her from this life too: she's always been for the military.]

Damn, Vakarian. You really must be a good shot. I don't let just anybody back me up, you know.

Yeah. Any time.

[And he means that. From the depths of whatever makes him himself, he means that. Any time - all she has to do is call. He'll be right behind her. Where he belongs, no matter the world. Or the life.]

[Needless to say, the big sentimental fool is so caught up in that, he's thrown by the apparent change of subject. It absolutely shows in his face. He looks like she just bonked him over the head with a stick, blinking stupidly, mandible flared.]

Uh. Yes? [Hold on, focus. He shakes his head slightly. Where is that terrible alcohol?] Sorry, yeah, I was. More often than not. Got some flack for it, on occasion, but no one was really serious about it.

[Maybe the Cerberus duo, when things first started. Everything cleared up eventually. He finds the bottle again, thankfully, and after another scorching drink, rolls it between his palms idly.]

Of course I am. I don't bluff about my shooting. [He decidedly does not comment on yes, he knows she doesn't let just anyone at her back.] Once I get my rifle operational, I've been known to make it dance. Regular old firearms too, but that rifle...

I'd just ruin you for any other sniper.

[She picks up her head and stares at him for a single, blank beat, and then loses it. Ruin her for anybody else, that's hysterical. Hell, it's even funnier if it's true.]

That is such a— [she's leaning on one hand for balance by the time she gets the laughing under control] —such a corny line. I bet you say that to all the girls.

[He can, apparantly shoot, has knowledge of mysterious resurfacing memories, is a cool space alien, and he's got jokes! And they say there's no such thing as a perfect man.

...Which is the thought that makes Shepard recognize that— yeah, alright, it's been enough liqour for one night. Time to call it, before you do or say something stupid.]

Tomorrow. Or maybe the next day... I'm gonna make you eat those words. [This jerk thinks he can outshoot a Navy SEAL? Thane'll put him in his place.] Since you're up for a challenge.

I uh. [You can just hear the dial-up noises in his head.] No? I don't. I didn't think that was... something you say to people.

[Granted, he's terrible at flirting on a good day. Let alone when he's actually trying. Not to mention, the only person he'd ever even want to flirt with is sitting next to him, without knowing it. He takes another painful drink from the bottle in hand - it's going to take a while to kick in, with his mass.] Besides, a war zone isn't the best place for that kind of thing.

You're welcome to try. [It's much more confident, now that they're talking about his skills and not some memory minefield he has to try and navigate.] No one has hit a mark like I can. That's just facts.

Oh you think so, huh? Not even me?

[Smirking up at him like this, loose with alcohol and the easing anxiety, Shepard abruptly becomes aware of just how close they are. He'd come for her in the night, just for the asking, and yeah... it was because of this connection she didn't even really understand, let alone trust. The job wasn't nothing, and that was important, but—]

You don't know, I could have a ringer. I'm kind of a big deal.

[For a split second, his traitor brain thinks she means something else entirely. Not even me? - the flirting is only for her. Has been for a long time. Thankfully, though, he rights himself quick enough.]

[If she notices the way he blinked stupidly at her, he'll blame the alcohol.]

With all due respect, no. Not even you. [Honestly, she was always at the forefront, and he preferred to stay at the back.] There was a reason I was on the ground team so often. And it definitely wasn't the pretty face.

[He grimaces. Internally. No - don't get too comfortable. Don't slip into old habits. That's not fair to her.]

[Snrrk!] You're not that ugly.

[Actually, she doesn't think he's ugly at all. Maybe not pretty, no, but... cool. Like a dinosaur. From space.]

Y'know, part of me wants to ask you all about it. What it was like. The whole story. [She shakes her head, forestalling him. No, don't tell her.] It's probably a bad idea. One crisis at a time, you know?

[They say that life is just one damn thing after another, after all... but that's not true. There's a lot of overlap in those 'damn things'. But she can dream.]

Got any for me? Questions, I mean. This has to be at least as weird for you as it is for me.

[He ducks his head, rubbing at his neck to mask the fact he can feel the blush creeping up it. The hide is thinner there. If he's going to turn blue, it'll be there.]

Yeah, well. [There's no follow-up to that. Just that.]

[Which is just as well, considering what she says next. He glances at her, out of the corner of his eye. The urge to just pour it all out is... for a second, he almost does it. He almost just starts talking and lets the whole thing hang in the air. Biting it back at the last minute.]

Probably a bad idea. I... I don't want to be the one to break your brain. Reality. Whatever we're dealing with.

[He's silent again. What is he supposed to say here? Of course it's weird. It's weird and it hurts every time he can't talk to her like he's supposed to be able to. He doesn't want to know, and he does at the same time. His mandible clicks against his jaw, louder in the quiet.]

... I don't know where to start. [He admits, finally.] I really don't. If - if you want to tell me anything, I'm here.

[She's quiet, considering. He'd been on her fireteam, or at least on a rotation, and he'd said more often than not. She had a sniper, of course, it was standard practice. But still.]

You remember I mentioned a buddy of mine was a sniper? He's actually more than just a buddy. He's on my team. He's retiring this year, that's part of why we're all on furlough— it's not just Normandy being in dry dock, the whole team needs to shuffle, get replacements... [She shrugs, one-shouldered.] Medical discharge. He got shot. Lost a lung. It was a whole hell of a thing that I'm... not supposed to talk about.

[Even drunk, she's still too loyal to break these kinds of promises.]

His wife was so pissed. She yelled at me for twenty straight minutes on the phone, most of it was in Farsi, I didn't even understand it. I think maybe she thought I was calling to tell her he was dead? They have a kid, and... [She's smiling, thinking about it.] ...I'm gonna miss him. But it's good. It's a good thing.

[He got hurt, yes, and the consequence would be permanent, but he also got out. He got to go home, and hug his son, and kiss his wife, and live a life that didn't end in the dirt somewhere on the other side of the planet.]

I am down a sniper, though. Assuming I stay.

Yeah. I do.

[Of course he remembers. He's listened to everything she's had to say so far. He will listen. He will remember everything that's important to her here.]

[What she's describing... it's so familiar. He can only think of one man who was actually a father on their team. Who also had skills comparable to his, with a rifle. The lung injury seals it. Thane. It has to be. He has no idea what "Farsi" is, but it has to be what this world passes as Thane Krios. And for a moment, he closes his eyes.]

[Thane didn't get to lay down arms, not really, in the end. He'd had to come bail them out and damned if it still didn't sting. Garrus had respected him, liked him. That was for Thane, you son of a bitch indeed.]

Yeah. That's... I've seen a lot of people who should have gotten to retire. Good for him. Good for his kid.

[He tilts his head back, letting the tips of his crest rattle against carapace and cowl. The ceiling is deeply uninteresting. Good.]

Much as I appreciate the implication, I don't think the Al - the Navy - would be a good fit for a nonhuman with no background here.

Oh damn, I didn't mean to—

[She tries to imagine it. But it's too hard; most branches would take anybody, mostly, but the SEALS were a whole separate trial-by-fire.]

Even if you could, it's two years training just to try out, and it's the Navy so... you'd have to be able to swim. [How's the bouyancy equation going over there, bud?] They're probably just gonna chuck somebody at me from the reserve pool and see if he can integrate. It's gonna be a pain in the ass.

[She really, really is going to miss Thane. Hopefully she won't miss him to death, hers or anyone else she cares about.]

Appreciate the offer, though. Turn down the most prestigious military unit in this country, just like that. Pretty bold, Vakarian.

[Finally, finally, that gets a short, sharp laugh out of him. It's almost bitter, but not quite.]

Swimming. Me. Not happening in my wildest dreams. Or anyone else's for that matter.

[Why anyone would dream about him swimming though, he doesn't know. Surely there are better things to dream about. He makes a low noise of commiseration.] They always are. Even if they're good at their job.

[Sorry, Vega. But at least you acclimated fast.]

[He shrugs again, before finishing off that bottle. He'll pay for this in the morning, even if there's not much but a low, distant buzz in his bones.] I'm a practical man. No reason to pursue a dead end. Besides, it'd mean I'd have to go back on that favor you already did me. Can't waste something like that.

Are you still going on about that? We're even.

[She leans over and shoves him with her shoulder, to emphasize the point.]

But I'll take that as permission to confirm the facts with you, next time this happens. I'll try not to do it at three in the morning, next time.

[Even, she says. Like that's possible. He rolls with the shove, like always.]

Maybe.

[That's all he says to that. Instead shaking his head and moving on.]

Please, it's not like I had anything better to do. No giant gun to calibrate... I'd have gone crazy in another hour.

IC INBOX - Kaisou

voice @CMDR J Shepard

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