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//Garrus—need to talk to you about something. Come see me. It’s… urgent. ML//
There were coordinates attached. Not too far away, actually. Garrus scratched his scarred mandible. Miranda, huh?
That was about as much of a response as he was capable of, these days, with Shepard gone. She’d given herself to the galaxy, in every way she could, and though he understood it—even if he wasn’t a very good turian, he was a turian; duty was their blood—it didn’t make it any easier for the heart which had only just kept beating pathetically beneath his cowl.
When the shuttle landed, he rented a skycar under the alias he used, sometimes, when he didn’t want to be Garrus Vakarian anymore, and half an hour later he set the battered vehicle down outside a sad prefab, one of few still standing. Inside, though, it had been transformed, and Miranda Lawson met him at the door.
“Hey, Garrus. You don’t look so good.”
“Why would I?”
Miranda pressed her lips into a thin line before softening again. “I’m trying not to say I’m sorry.”
“Good, because there’s no point.” He sighed. “I’m not trying to be…”
“I know, Vakarian. Despite beliefs to the contrary, I’m human, not a cyborg. I get it.” She gestured for him to sit in the plastic chair in front of her desk; she went behind it, sitting herself, and pulled up data on a pad.
Garrus looked around and saw an interesting collection of items, including an industrial lab-quality cooling chamber. “Lawson, how are you getting the energy to sustain that thing?”
“That’s… part of why I asked you here.”
“If you’re running out, I can’t get you more.”
Miranda sighed. “Garrus.”
“Miranda.”
“When we—Cerberus—got Shepard, she was in really bad shape.”
“By that you mean dead.”
“Close enough for most, not enough for Lazarus.” Miranda flashed him a tight, momentary smile. “Anyway, that’s not the point. She’d been subjected to all the things that destroys living tissue. With extensive cybernetics and tissue cloning we were able to recreate most of it. The vital things, anyway.”
“I know all this, Lawson. I really don’t need to be reminded.”
“She was pregnant. When she died. The first time, anyway.”
Garrus was completely silent, his stare blank, and after a long moment, for the first time in Miranda’s presence, he took off his visor. “What?”
“Somehow—miracle of the human body, I guess—the embryo survived. We were saving every scrap of viable tissue. When I realized what it was… well, in case we ever needed Shepard’s child, I saved it. When the station blew I grabbed it. I’ll admit my motives then weren’t good, but…”
Shepard’s child. “You still have… it?”
“Yes, but it’s deteriorating. With the multiple power outages it’s been through—it can’t take another one. We either need to thaw it and implant it, or…”
A violent surge of protectiveness over a child that wasn’t his raged through Garrus’s bones. “What do you need?”
Miranda flashed another smile, a more genuine one, this time. “A connection to Dr. T’Soni.”
“Done.”
“Garrus…” Miranda sighed. “The child’s fully human.”
“I know it isn’t mine, Lawson. That’s not the point.”
“I can try to determine the father, if you’d—“
“I know who it is.” Garrus’s spine softened. “Don’t know if he’s alive, but I know who it is.” Damn the bastard. I’d damn him to hell and back, but we’ve already done that.
“Alright, then.”
“I’ll call Liara from my secure terminal.”
“I’ll send the files for what I need, then.” Her fingers flew over the datapad and his omni-tool beeped.
Garrus was at the door before he turned to look at Miranda. “Why are you doing this?”
She looked up at Garrus, her eyes softening. “She saved my family, Garrus,” she said, quietly. “I need to return the favor.”
Garrus didn’t understand a whit of the science behind all of this, but all he knew was that he got another untraceable message three months later.
//Moved again. It’s viable. No defects that I can see—growing well and as expected. Better learn about amino babies, Vakarian. ML//
And then four months after that, when he’d been getting nervous.
//I hope you’re ready for this, Vakarian, because we’re about to be out of time. She’ll be premature, but there’s nothing for it. Get here as soon as you can. Bring formula. ML//
Again, there were coordinates attached, and he packed a bag according to the copy of “What To Expect When You’re Expecting in the 22nd Century: The Dextro Dad Edition” that Liara had gotten him. The trip was longer, this time, and Miranda was thinner, more tired, but Liara was there, too.
“Decided to deliver the rest of your things in person,” she said, smiling. “Come see your daughter.”
And so the seven-foot-tall blue turian found himself peering into an artificial incubator, where a partially opaque sac cradled an infant human. A girl.
“What the spirits am I supposed to do with a baby girl?” Garrus murmured to himself, one three-fingered talon against the glass.
“Aunts, Garrus,” Liara said from behind him. “Lots of aunts.”
Garrus chuckled softly, but Liara heard the mourning in his tone. He had no knowledge of human infants but he fancied she looked so much like Shepard; the high cheekbones, the long limbs, still soft but full of promise.
He wanted to see her eyes, desperately hoped they weren’t honey-brown, because it was clear from the shock of brown hair atop her head that there was the stamp of someone else, there, too.
But the child of the first two human Spectres—well, regardless of what the second had done to the first on Horizon, she’d be a force to be reckoned with.
The infant kicked, swung a baby-fat fist, only to be swayed gently to rest again by the sac, and Garrus sighed.
“Another few hours to go,” Miranda said, quietly. “I’m giving her every supportive measure I can for her immune system, since she won’t be getting immunity from…” Miranda stopped, realizing that bringing up Shepard just now was probably not the best.
Garrus found himself passing the time in the copy of “What to Expect”, again, trying to get a handle on the concept of diapers and feeding and burping and oh, spirits, he was about to be a father to a daughter.
And the blood drained out of his neck as he realized he had totally missed telling his father, or… Solana.
Aunts, indeed.
Miranda had sent Garrus out of the room while the preparations for her birth began. Liara was enough assistance, and he’d been pacing, ignoring Miranda’s increasingly irritated orders to stay out of the way and stop hovering.
His body went rigid as a tiny wail came through the door; momentarily, Liara called, “You can come in, Garrus.” So he did, finding the asari wiping the tiny child clean.
His laser focus came in handy as he kept his thoroughly blunted talons from harming the tender skin, followed Liara’s instructions to diaper her, carefully pulled long limbs into a semblance of order, swaddled her snugly, and—finally—held her in his arms, quivering. “Liara, what if I—“
“You won’t,” Miranda answered, done with her portion of the child’s unusual delivery.
She screeched as she got a hand free, and when the tiny fist wrapped itself snugly around Garrus’s offered finger, he let loose a shaky sigh and let his brow bow to brush gently against her forehead. The whimpers abated as he hummed, gently, soothing nonsense in his subvocals.
After a long moment he looked up and over at the women, who shared the universal face of a mother’s adoration upon seeing a new father with his child for the first time.
“She needs a name,” Liara said, gently. Garrus nodded. There had been so many possibilities, so many women who would have given a small child a fitting name.
The first had been Jane herself, of course, but… Garrus thought she wouldn’t have appreciated fitting a tiny child with the laden moniker of Jane Shepard.
There was a name, of course, that stood out, one that Garrus felt somehow reluctant to use, but… without her, this child would never have come to be.
“Ashley,” Garrus whispered, resting his forehead against the child’s again. “Her name is Ashley Jane.”
Two weeks later, Garrus—juggling bottle, crying baby, and oversized blanket—managed to use his foot to open the door to his apartment. “No, I do not want prayers for my dead—“
It was none other than his sister at the door, who stood there with a bag over one shoulder, her arms crossed in front of her chest, glaring.
“Oh. Sorry, Sol. Hi? I’m just—“
“Oh! Garrus, she’s adorable!” Solana’s face changed completely. “Dad! Dad! Oh, Garrus, what’s her name?”
“Uh, Sol, I was just trying to—“ The child began wriggling, her cries increasing.
Another voice chipped in. “Son, I understand there are communication difficulties, but why did you wait to—“
And Ashley Jane Shepard-Vakarian chose that moment to belt out her opinion of the proceedings at the top of her lungs. Solana and Kaius Vakarian both stopped, mid-sentence, and cringed at the noise. Garrus stepped out of the doorway and began shifting his weight, rocking, bobbing, easing the child’s distress.
“Easy, AJ,” he hummed, letting his subvocals rumble in a low register, hoping to soothe her. When she quieted, taking the bottle again and nursing contentedly, Garrus looked back up at his father and sister, who’d come inside and closed the door but hadn’t moved further, instead watching Garrus with tiny AJ.
“Is AJ a common human name?” Solana asked quietly. Garrus could hear the hesitance in her subvocals.
“Nickname, yes. It’s… short for Ashley Jane.”
AJ eventually dozed off after Garrus burped her over his shoulder, and Liara returned from a series of meetings to the Vakarian family in the living room, talking in hushed tones.
“Dad, Sol, this is Liara T’Soni.”
“Dr. T’Soni, we’ve heard a lot about you.” Kaius stood and inclined his head regally. “Kaius Vakarian.”
“Solana,” the youngest turian added with her own nod.
“Nice to meet you both,” Liara said. “Garrus, I have some… news.”
He nodded and looked at Solana. “You want to hold her?”
“Oh! Yes!” Solana took the snuffling bundle carefully, keeping her talons clear, peering at her face.
Garrus followed Liara into the kitchen. “What is it?”
“Garrus… Kaidan’s alive.”
Blood roared in his ears and he gripped the countertop tightly.
“He’s being transferred to a local hospital to finish recovering from an injury, then being stationed here for awhile. I… I wanted you to know. Just in case.”
Garrus grit his teeth. “He still loved her. She… she said he hadn’t let go. She had, but…”
“He’ll find out, somehow, Garrus, that you have her child. The name isn’t exactly… subtle. And she’s very human.” Liara looked at him with sympathy etched in the lines of her face. “Hannah Shepard is… anxious to meet her. Understandably.”
“She still on the Kilimanjaro?”
“Returning for repairs soon. I’ve been in contact. I’ll let you know when she arrives.”
“Thanks, Liara. For all of this.”
“Of course, Garrus.” Liara smiled, put her hand on his cheek. “It will work out, somehow.”
Garrus steeled himself, several days later, and went to the hospital. His clearance got him in to see Ka—Spectre Alenko easily. He was awake, nursing the remains of a black eye and with one leg heavily wrapped and elevated, but otherwise in good shape.
“Garrus!” Kaidan smiled, and it was genuine. So far, so good, I guess.
“Alenko,” he replied, meeting the extended hand with his own.
“With what we’ve been through, Garrus, please, call me Kaidan."
The two spent some time catching up on the state of the galaxy. Eventually, though, the question Garrus knew would come up arose.
“So… why aren’t you out there, Garrus?”
He inhaled, steepling his fingers. “That’s… one of the things I came to talk to you about.”
“Um—okay?”
“She…” Garrus swallowed, hard, his stomach going leaden, and he saw Kaidan’s face tense, too. “She had another miracle, thanks to Miranda.”
“The Cerberus—“
“Ex-Cerberus.”
“Right—scientist? The one who brought her back?”
“Yeah.” Garrus rubbed his face, pulsed his fingers over his scarred mandible like she always did. Had. “I… shit, there’s no way to say this, Kaidan. She was pregnant when she died.”
He blinked. “Um—congratulations, I guess? I mean, how does that even—”
“The first time, Kaidan.”
The implications took a moment to settle, and the blood drained from Kaidan’s face.
“The… embryo survived. Miranda preserved it. Until… well, with all the power problems… and the cooling unit was dying. She called me to ask what to do. So… I’m not out there fighting because I’m… fuck it.” He tapped on his omni-tool and a photo, taken that morning, flickered to life. “Green eyes… brown hair.”
Kaidan made an incredulous noise, scrubbed his hands over his face, buried them in his hair and half-laughed. “I—Garrus—the fuck?”
“We didn’t think you were alive, Kaidan,” the turian said, quietly, his subvocals wailing in distress. “Liara told me a couple of days ago. I wanted to tell you in person.” He gazed at the hologram and swallowed. “She… she’s perfect. Beautiful. She means everything to me.”
There was silence for a long moment. Then—hoarsely--“What’s her name?”
“Ashley Jane.”
Kaidan covered his mouth, then murmured through his fingers. “Shepard?”
“Shepard-Vakarian.” Garrus swallowed. “Kaidan… you know she’s… yours, right?”
“Genetically, you mean?” Kaidan snorted and shook his head. “Cause it sure sounds like she’s yours, not mine.”
“Alenko, don’t make this more difficult for me. Please.”
“You’re not the only one who lost her! I lost her—twice! Three times!”
“Do you think you’re the only one who loved her before she got spaced?” Garrus stood, vibrating with anger.
“I’m the only one who did anything about it!”
“Fair,” Garrus granted him, “but you fucked it up, Alenko. You know you did. You—you have any idea what you did to her? You broke her, Alenko. On Horizon. She didn’t know who she was anymore and you called her a traitor and left her to make another miracle alone!”
Kaidan’s fist was in front of his mouth, pressing hard. “I know, Garrus. I know. You think I don’t tear myself up about that, every waking moment?”
A beat, dead silence.
“If she’d taken you back, Kaidan, I’d have let her go,” Garrus said roughly, the truth leaving a raw, gaping wound in his chest.
“You’re a better man than me, Garrus,” Kaidan said, after a beat, sounding on the edge of tears. The tension ebbed as quickly as it came and Garrus sank back into the chair, resting his face in his palms.
More silence.
“When are they gonna let you out?”
“Dunno. Week, maybe.”
“Where are you going after that?”
“Wherever they send me, I guess. I won't be combat-ready for a while.”
Garrus sighed and stood. “I’m probably going to regret this, but… I’ve got space. If you need a place to stay.”
Kaidan nodded, then stilled, looking at the doorway. Garrus looked over his shoulder and sighed. Liara was there, with a squirming bundle in her arms.
The asari smiled carefully, mindful of the tenuous truce. “I’m sorry, Garrus, but I needed to go, and—“
“No, it’s okay.” He stood and took AJ from Liara’s arms, falling immediately into father-mode, rumbling gently, rocking her as she quieted.
“Hello, Kaidan,” Liara said, smiling at the man, who was looking at times bewildered, distressed, and utterly overwhelmed.
“I—uh—hi.”
Garrus turned back to Kaidan, his features inscrutable, and looked at the bundle in his arms. He rested his forehead against the child’s, for a moment, and looked back at Kaidan. “I—do you—“
“I have no idea how—“
But Garrus was extending his arms, carefully transferring the child to him. And suddenly Kaidan’s world melted away, because nothing mattered more than the miniature Shepard in his arms.
“AJ, eat for papa, okay?”
The toddler squirmed, babbling, turning her face away from the offered applesauce, and Kaidan sighed, setting the spoon down. Today was just not a good day for food, he thought. He’d burnt their lunch and had settled for a ration bar, scarfed in an instant after he’d made something else for AJ.
The door opened and a dual-toned voice floated through the air. “Ashley Jane!”
“Addy!”
Garrus turned the corner and saw Kaidan at the table, shaking his head, applesauce in his hair, on AJ’s tray and down his sleeve. Garrus chuckled, setting down the package he held. “No luck?”
“No, not really.”
“Mm. I don’t know what you two see in apples, anyway.”
“Of course not, Garrus. They’re not dextro.” Kaidan attempted again with the applesauce-laden spoon with no luck.
“Oh, AJ!” Garrus crouched behind Kaidan, hiding, then popped up over Kaidan’s shoulder, arms up, mandibles flared. “Aahhhhh!”
AJ’s mouth dropped in gleeful surprise, as it always did, and Kaidan took advantage of the opportunity to slip in the spoonful of applesauce.
“Addy, ‘ook!”
“What am I looking at, sweetheart?”
“’Ook!”
“Show me?”
“’Ook! ‘Ook!” AJ slapped her hands against the book on the floor.
“Ah. Need to work on your consonants.” Garrus crawled down on the floor beside AJ and flipped the first thick page open. AJ promptly shut it on Garrus’s hand and broke into peals of laughter.
Kaidan chuckled from his spot on the couch, flicking through pages on a datapad. He’d changed shirts and gotten the applesauce out of his hair. His peace wasn’t long-lived, though. AJ pulled herself into a standing position against the couch, wobbling dangerously. “Apa!”
“Yes, darling?"
“Aa!” She reached for his datapad, but couldn’t balance upright with just one hand on the couch and promptly fell. Her landing was rather cushioned by her diaper, though, and the expected cries were instead baby belly-laughs. Kaidan couldn't help but smile, his eyes meeting Garrus's as he tugged AJ up on to the couch with him. He'd learned to read turian expressions over time, even the occasional set of subvocals, and Garrus was clearly broadcasting contentment, mandibles flaring wide in a grin.
An hour later, with Kaidan creeping quietly out of the nursery, Garrus looked up from his desk at the Spectre. “She asleep?”
“Out for the count.”
Over the year-and-change that they’d been living together, parenting AJ, Garrus and Kaidan had set aside their differences. They’d both loved the same woman, lost her, and gotten her back in giggling miniature. Somehow, that was enough--more than enough. They knew eventually their respective governments would pull them away; Kaidan was already running out of excuses to avoid resuming his Spectre duties. He could only make excuses for his badly rattled L2 for so long.
“Kaidan,” Garrus began without preamble, spinning in his chair to face Kaidan, who had passed him in the hallway.
“Yeah?”
“Did I ever say thank you?”
“For what?”
“AJ.”
Kaidan blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You could have taken her. I… well, I expected you to. Liara told me you wouldn’t, but…” Garrus sighed. “Well. Thank you.”
“Well, you’re welcome.” Kaidan smiled at the turian. “Just don’t forget I’m her papa. Hurt her and I’ll kick your ass.”
“There’s that human saying about mother bears, right? Yeah. They’re nothing compared to her daddy.”
The two men smiled at each other, if somewhat tentatively on Garrus's part. Then the turian pulled out a datapad, offering it to Kaidan.
“What’s this?” He read it over, then looked at Garrus, eyebrow raised. “An… adoption form?”
“I’m legally her only parent,” Garrus said, quietly. “I thought you might like to change that.”
Kaidan just stared at him.
“I’ve already run it through the systems. It’s approved. Just… just need you to sign.”
“Three last names is a lot for a kid, you know.”
“She only needs one.”
“Garrus—no. I won’t take that from you.”
Garrus smiled, his mandible flickering. “She was always her own woman, Kaidan. Never needed either of us, really. I don’t think AJ will, either.”
And when Ashley Jane Shepard squealed her delight, screeching first “Addy!” then “Apa!” after waking from her nap, the men knew it would all be all right, in the end.