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Trust Issues

Summary:

“Who’s down?” Garrus asks, urgently. Dr. Chakwas slaps the button for Level 1, and Garrus’ blood runs cold. “Commander Shepard? What happened?”

“She was in Mordin’s lab when one of his experiments blew. Some sort of salarian drug - didn’t hurt Mordin other than making him even more… him... but it did something to the Commander. She’s having some sort of delusion, from what I could make out from Mordin’s communications - paranoia, hallucinations. She’s barricaded herself in her quarters, and appears to be convinced she’s under siege.”

“Well, that’s not good."

***

In which Shepard has the panic attack to end all panic attacks, and the only reason everyone survives is that Garrus is there to help her feel safe.

Notes:

I have not written fanfiction since I was 14 years old but I finished Mass Effect 2 and then I got possessed by the spirit of Feelings In Space and woke up 4 hours later with this. enjoy. if any of you fuckers spoil me for Mass Effect 3 before I get a chance to play it, I'll end you.

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The first Garrus knows about it is when he hears people running outside of the battery. He’s calibrating, idly, though he’s checked the guns a hundred times just today - mostly he’s just watching some dumb holovid on his visor and feeling kind of useless. The shouting gets his attention immediately though, every ounce of C-Sec-born and Omega-honed instincts snapping him into sharp vigilance in a moment. 

“What is it now? ” he asks no one in particular, and pulls his gun, sprinting out to the main commissary. He’s just in time to catch Dr. Chakwas on the lift before the doors close. Dr. Chakwas is rarely fazed, and the medkit at her side is neatly prepared, but she’s got the set of face and steely eyes that indicates a Situation in progress, with a capital glyph.

“Who’s down?” Garrus asks, urgently. Dr. Chakwas slaps the button for Level 1, and Garrus’ blood runs cold. “Commander Shepard? What happened?”

“She was in Mordin’s lab when one of his experiments blew. Some sort of salarian drug - didn’t hurt Mordin other than making him even more… him... but it did something to the Commander. She’s having some sort of delusion, from what I could make out from Mordin’s communications - paranoia, hallucinations. She’s barricaded herself in her quarters, and appears to be convinced she’s under siege.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Garrus says, which is a hell of an understatement. The idea of Shepard’s intimidating competence turned against her own crew in a fit of paranoia is terrifying. 

Dr. Chakwas laughs, small and strangled “Mordin’s synthesizing something to neutralize the compound, and I’ve got some sedatives and test kits here to help calm her down and give him something to work with. Shep’s not exactly human-standard anymore.”

“Was she ever?”

“Biologically speaking, I mean.”

“Right.”

The lift doors open, and Garrus has never thought to regret the lack of cover opportunities in the hallway outside Commander Shepard’s quarters before. Not that he spends much time contemplating Shepard’s quarters, of course, but she’s invited him up for a drink and a chat once or twice. 

The door is firmly locked, but his visor can read a faint outline of a heat signature behind it, including the energy signature of a gun. Shepard’s heart is beating considerably faster than usual, and her breathing is rapid and shallow. 

“She fired at Mordin,” Dr. Chakwas whispers, staying firmly in the elevator. “And Jacob, when Jacob heard the shot and came running.”

“And they lived? ” Garrus blurts.

“Her aim’s off at the moment, and they both had the paranoia to be partially armored.”

Garrus, who is nearly fully armored, tactfully chooses not to take offense at that. It’s a Cerberus ship full of aliens. Everyone is paranoid. 

“Glad you’re here, actually. She’s less paranoid about the first Normandy’s crew, generally speaking.” Dr. Chakwas pats him on the arm. “Congratulations. As the only person with combat training on this elevator, you’ve officially volunteered to go and disarm Shepard.”

“I’m honored,” Garrus mutters. He takes a deep breath, and steps out of the elevator. At the first clank of his feet against the ship’s floor, he hears the click of an ammo clip. Well, fuck. This is going to take some very careful talking. 

“Shepard? It’s me. What’s the situation?” he says, from the hallway, and Shepard’s heat signature in his visor display goes still. 

“Garrus?” she says, and there’s an extremely unusual note of hesitation in her voice. 

“Yeah, I’m here. I need you to tell me what’s going on.” He can hear his voice settling into the Archangel voice he used to deal with hostages and panicking team members. Confident, low, reassuring. There’s a long silence. 

“Garrus,” Shepard repeats, muffled, and then her voice snaps out in a tone of command that galvanizes Garrus’ entire body. “I’m going to open the door. On my mark, get in cover.

The door opens, and Garrus dives through without thought, just obeying instinct and order as the door closes behind him, and Shepard slams the lock on again. Her eyes are wild, and her hand is shaking on the lock.

“You doing okay, Shep?”

“There’s hostiles,” Shepard says, which is vague. Her voice is shaking too, which is terrifying. He’s never heard her speak with anything less than cool self-assurance. 

“What kind of hostiles?”

Shepard hesitates, and her face goes tight with confusion and distress. “I don’t- I’m not sure. I -It’s. Difficult to tell.” 

The stammering is really doing a number on Garrus’ heart. This is probably not a great time to be thinking about how he would kill and/or die for Shepard in a second, but it’s not like he’s never been distracted by that kind of thought before. So sue him. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” Garrus says, low and calm. “Whatever it is, we can handle it. We’ve handled everything else.”

This appears to be reassuring. Shepard leans heavily into the door, and Garrus’ visor tells him her heartbeat has evened out a bit. 

“I don’t know, Garrus. Something’s wrong with me.” Shepard says, quietly. She’s sweating, very pale. “Some sort of status effect. Either poison or biotics. I can’t focus right. I don’t know how much use I’ll be in this fight.”

Garrus has to take a deep breath with that one. Some new, strange feeling is welling in his chest. “It’s okay. You’ve got me, don’t you? And I’ve got your back. I’ll take care of everything. Remember Omega? I’ve faced down worse odds alone. You can trust me on that.”

“You’ve got my back?” Shepard repeats. Her eyes are desperately searching his face for… something. He can only hope he’s giving her what she’s looking for. 

“I’ve got you,” he confirms, and then has to lurch forward to catch Shepard when she sways, stumbling. She’s a lot smaller in person than he always thinks of her being - tall for a human, of course, but if she was as big as her personality, she’d be three meters tall and wider than a tank. She’s heavy, though, with the cybernetics. Nothing he can’t handle. 

“We need to get you to Dr. Chakwas,” he says, quietly. “It’ll only be a few steps outside the door, she’s waiting for you in the elevator with a medkit. Then we’ll go down to the medbay so she can detox you.”

“We can’t leave,” Shepard says. “They’re out there.”

“I’ll take care of any hostiles that pose a threat. I won’t let them get you. Stick close behind me,” Garrus says, and makes it an order with the tone he would use with any other team member. 

Shepard nods, shoulders straightening. She’s calming down considerably, starting to pull the shreds of her rigid control back together. Good. Good. 

Belatedly, he remembers something. “Also - Shepard, I think whatever status effect you’re under is inducing hallucinations. Don’t panic too much if you see something I don’t react to. Any real danger, and I’ll take care of it. Anything else is just a ruse.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Shepard says, after a long pause, and huffs out an exhausted laugh. “I’ll trust your judgement. You’ve never led me wrong before.”

“On three, I’m going to open the door,” Garrus says, and moves in front of the door. Shepard falls into line behind him. “One, two, three, ” and he opens the door. 

Shepard immediately tenses behind him, leaning into him so hard he can feel her shoulder pressing into his armor, but he says, calmly, “Looks like there’s no hostiles here right now. I’ll keep on the lookout for an ambush.”

“You’re sure?” Shepard says, tightly. Garrus looks back at her to see that her eyes are trained hard on the empty part of the elevator, right next to where Dr. Chakwas has flattened herself up against one side. 

“I’m sure,” Garrus says. “Come on, I’m the best sniper in the galaxy, I can surveil four feet of empty room.”

What’s going on? Dr. Chakwas mouths to him. 

He shakes his head, mouths Later, and takes five deliberate steps forward into the elevator. “Nothing,” he says, and turns back to Shepard, bumping into her in the process. She’s very close behind, and she clutches his arm hard to stay upright. “Just the good doctor. Let her take a look at you, Shep, we’ll get this cleared up.”

Shepard nods, every muscle in her body stiff with tension. “Doctor.”

“Commander,” Dr. Chakwas says, calmly, and scans Shepard with her omnitool, businesslike and efficient. Whatever readings she gets make her eyebrows shoot skyward. “Hm. We’re going to need you down in the medical bay, I think.” 

She reaches for a sedative, but Shepard flinches violently, slamming backwards into the wall of the elevator and raising her gun. Dr. Chakwas makes a choked noise, and Garrus steps between them immediately, turning his back to the doctor so he can look at Shepard, gently pushing her gun down until it hangs by her side again.

“No sedatives?” Garrus asks, quietly. Shepard shakes her head. “Okay. No sedatives.” 

“Fair enough,” Dr. Chakwas says, faintly, and presses the button to take them down to the third floor. 

Garrus keeps up a steady patter of calm reassurances as the elevator ticks down floors. He’s barely listening to himself, mostly just trying to keep Shepard calm and keep himself firmly between her and Dr. Chakwas. Why are elevators so slow? 

The doors open onto absolute chaos, and Garrus groans internally, trying not to let any of it show on his face. Of course. Half of the fucking crew is down here, and they’re all panicking. Officer Lawson’s trying to keep things under control, but when Shepard makes a tight, terrified noise, she whirls. 

“Commander! Are you all right?” she asks, and takes three steps forward. Shepard’s breathing quickens, and Garrus sees her gun rise out of the corner of his eye. 

Not one step further, Lawson, ” he snarls, before Shepard has the chance to shoot, and his own gun is trained in an instant. She stops so fast it’s almost comical, and then, very carefully, takes a deliberate five steps back. The other crewmembers appear frozen, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. It’s enough of a calm that he jerks his head toward the medbay and says, “Let’s go.” 

Shepard keeps Garrus between her and the bulk of the crowd as they edge toward the medbay. It’s only about ten meters away, but it’s a long ten meters. They’re moving painfully slow - if they run, either Shep or the crew is going to lose it. People are, sensibly, shuffling out of their way. Garrus aims an uncompromising rifle barrel at those who don’t shuffle fast enough and puts some pep in their step. Shep’s shaking even harder now, especially as the murmuring starts to pick back up again. 

“You’re sure there’s no hostiles?” she asks. 

“Positive,” Garrus says. “And if there were, I’d kill ‘em. Don’t worry.”

This does not appear to reassure the crew very much, but that wasn’t really the point. As soon as they get inside the medical bay, Dr. Chakwas slams a lock on the doors at the same moment Shepard collapses, gun sliding out of her hand and clattering across the floor. Garrus barely manages to grab her in time, hauling her up hard by her biceps, and Shep hauls in deep, gasping breath after breath. It has the wheezing edge of hyperventilation.

“Shepard?” Garrus says, and barely manages to keep his voice calm.

“I’m losing coordination,” Shepard says, thinly. Garrus looks from her to the medical bed that Dr. Chakwas has already prepared. 

“Okay if I pick you up?” 

There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then she nods. Garrus tries to be as clinical and matter of fact about it as possible. She’s going to be embarrassed enough already. He scoops her up and takes six steps, depositing her carefully into the medical bed, and then steps back to let Dr. Chakwas do her work.

“No-” Shepard blurts, as he moves, and then says, more stiffly: “Stay close, please.”

So Garrus can’t really do anything but stand next to the bed and let Shepard clutch his wrist so tightly it’s probably going to bruise, even through his scaly plates. Cerberus really weren’t fucking around with the cybernetics. 

Dr. Chakwas has a hurried conference with Mordin over holo call, runs some diagnostics. She looks stressed when she finally looks up at them. “I know you said no sedatives, Commander, but it looks like that’s the best way to go. We just have to let it run its course, and it’ll be a lot easier if you can sleep it off and avoid stressing yourself further. We’ll keep you under surveillance in case your heart rate gets to dangerous levels.”

Shepard recoils, scrambling backwards and baring her teeth like a feral varren, her grip on Garrus’ arm tightening even further. 

“No sedatives. They’re just waiting for me to let my guard down and they’ll-” she cuts herself off, breathing ragged.

“Ow,” Garrus says, in an undertone, but Shep doesn’t appear to hear. “Hey. Shepard.”

Shep turns her head slightly to look at him, keeping Dr. Chakwas in her sights. 

“It’s okay. Let them put you under for a bit. I’ll stand guard. Nothing’s going to get you while I’m here.”

Shepard is absolutely still for a long moment. 

“You’ll stand guard?” she says, softly. Garrus nods, holding his breath with hope. Shepard turns to look up at him fully, seemingly forgetting about Dr. Chakwas, and she looks searching again, intent. She seems to find whatever she’s looking for, because she slumps down into the medical bed, her grip loosening. “I’ll accept the sedative.”

Dr. Chakwas sighs with apparent relief. “Thank you, Commander.”

Garrus stands watch as Dr. Chakwas applies the sedative, and Shepard’s eyes find his as Dr. Chakwas counts down from three and the sedative takes effect. He nods, once, and she shuts her eyes, body going slack. 

As soon as she’s out, Dr. Chakwas lets out an explosive breath. “Well, that was stressful, to say the least. Thank you for your help, Garrus, it was invaluable. You don’t have to keep standing here if you don’t want to, she’ll be alright.”

Garrus doesn’t move. He can feel the skin under his jaw plates heating in a blueish blush as he says, awkwardly, “I promised I’d stand guard.”

Dr. Chakwas looks at him for a long moment, and then laughs. “You’re a good man, Garrus. I’ll bring you a chair so you can sit guard. It’s going to be a while before she wakes up.”

 

Garrus is there when Shepard wakes up, a full sixteen hours later, sitting beside her bedside with a gun laid across his lap. Not really any more dull than hanging uselessly around the battery, and he’s certainly been awake for much longer stretches at a time. Her eyes flutter, her hands twitching, and the movement catches his attention.

“Shepard?” 

“What time is it?” Shepard asks, thickly, opening her eyes. She yawns, shoulders shifting uncomfortably, and sits up, stretching. She’s not meeting Garrus’ eyes.

“About two o’clock. Dr. Chakwas went to catch some sleep a couple hours ago - told me to wake her up if the numbers turned red.”

Shepard is silent for a minute. “You were here the whole time?”

“Yeah,” Garrus says, and his voice is softer than he meant for it to be. 

“...Thank you.”

“Anytime. But, uh, let’s try to avoid a repeat performance of this specific incident.”

“Agreed.”

There’s a long silence, this time, and Garrus isn’t sure how to break it. 

“I should head back to my quarters,” Shepard says, quietly. “I need to do some damage control, probably. I’ll come by in the morning for Dr. Chakwas to check my vitals, but I feel fine, for the moment.”

“Good call,” Garrus agrees, and watches Shepard pull together every starched-stiff ounce of dignity in her body and carry herself out of the medical bay with a set, neutral expression and straight-backed posture. He doesn’t begrudge it of her. He can hardly imagine how he’d be feeling under similar circumstances. 

And if there’s something vast and warm and hollow trying to eat up his insides as he watches her walk away? Well. That’s his problem to deal with.