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It was strange how quickly Shepard’s new apartment on the Citadel had become home. Garrus had only spent one night there--granted, it was a very enjoyable night. But as he’d sat through calls with the Hierarchy all day long, all he could think about was how much he was looking forward to going home. Been a long time since anywhere had felt like home to him--even longer since it was any one . Yet somehow in the middle of a galaxy-ending war, he’d managed to find both.
As Garrus approached the front door, he already felt his spirits lifting. War was never pleasant to wade through, but as soon as he was through that door, he could leave it all behind till tomorrow. Crossing the threshold, he started to call out for Shepard, but her name died in his chest as he took in the sight of the living room.
It was a war zone. Windows were shattered. Couches were overturned. The piano was smashed. Smoke hung in the air. The path of the intruders was easy to track, littered in sparkling glass and a few bodies, from the window, across the living room, past the kitchen, and up the main stairs. The worst part, however, was the deadly silence that permeated everything and sank down heavy into Garrus’ bones.
“Shep--” Her name caught in his throat as he staggered into the living room, craning his neck to look for any sign of life in the back bedroom and the kitchen. Nothing on both counts. Faster, he needed to move faster, but his feet felt leaden, every step a conscious effort as he strained for the stairs.
On the third step, there was blood. A few scattered spots of red. The bright, coppery stench hit the front of his palette and sat down, sinking into every nook and cranny. He hauled himself up the rest of the flight, watching as the red spots became splatters, as splatters became a puddle near the top step.
When his head cleared a view of the second floor balcony, Garrus spotted Shepard. She was on the floor, curled up on her side with her back to him. The leaden restraint he’d been battling evaporated unexpectedly, and he tripped up the last steps as he sprinted to her side.
“Shepard, Shepard . Please --”
Falling to his knees beside her, he turned her over. Lifeless green eyes stared past him, so bright in contrast to the crimson blood drying across her brutally slashed neck. His shaking hand cupped her cheek as a keen so strong it crossed into utter silence shredded his subvocals. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her tightly to him, brow pressed to hers as his mind circled from one word to the other. No . And why . Back and forth. Back and forth.
Only when he reached down to grip her hand, did he finally look beyond her. The creamy white of the balcony floor had been graffitied. A sigil had been painted on the ground that froze him to his very spirit. A set of splayed wings under two bars, the Archangel sigil, drawn in the cooling blood of Shepard.
A ragged gasp escaped him as Garrus abruptly broke the surface into consciousness. He jerked upright, sucking in breaths. Quickly, he surveyed his surroundings. Just the dark quiet of their bedroom in Shepard’s apartment surrounded him. Shepard was still asleep, curled up on her side with her back to him. Trembling, he stared at her, doing his best to remind himself that it was nothing more than a coincidence. She always slept like that, and he didn’t have any logical reason to be shaking right now. He could clearly see her chest slowly rising and falling, but he succumbed to the rising need with another gasp. This wasn’t enough. He turned her over, his thumb running across the pale, unmarked skin of her neck.
She sharply inhaled, the tension of life filling her muscles, and her eyes fluttered half-open. “Gar--” she muttered, voice rough and sleep-laden. “Wha…”
The soft sound of her voice was the exact confirmation he needed. Terror left him in a rush, leaving him more exhausted than usual but wide awake. It was just a dream--of course it was. She was safe here; they both were. The demons of his past couldn’t reach them. They couldn’t , he repeated as some of the fear still lingered and tainted his waking. Already knowing that sleep was a lost cause for this night, he curled up around her, placing his body as a physical barrier between her and the nearest point of entry. It helped ease him a little.
“Sorry,” he murmured, smoothing a hand across her forehead then down to cup her cheek. “Go back to sleep.”
“Everything… alright?” She was already relaxing in his secure embrace, sleep claiming her once more. Good, she needed it even more than he did these days. He nuzzled a kiss to her forehead, watching her face as her eyes drifted shut and she went limp again.
“Everything’s fine,” he whispered, with only himself and the darkness to witness it.
But Garrus couldn’t quite shake the dream for the rest of the day. This was one of the last full days of shore leave; he was supposed to be relaxing for spirits’ sake. Instead, he hung about five steps behind Shepard all day as she ran final errands before her party that was set to happen that evening. She teased him as she pulled him equal with her again, claiming that she didn’t need a bodyguard as much as she wanted a boyfriend. He privately decided that perhaps he could be both--at least until he could get himself to calm down.
Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to do that before the party started. He made a valiant effort at first, knocking back enough horosk to take the edges off everything he looked at and let himself momentarily enjoy the sublimely rare treat of all his friends under one roof. But all it took was one misplaced glance at the overly large, currently unbroken windows before his buzz took a turn for the worse. He excused himself from the conversation in the kitchen before he accidentally ruined someone else’s night too.
He glared at the pristine floor of the second floor balcony as he found a perch overlooking the festivities. From here, he could keep a weather eye on the windows and also still enjoy the party, if from afar. He watched Shepard flit from group to group, giving each person her undivided attention for at least a few minutes. As she left Joker and EDI, she happened to glance up and spot him. Her eyebrows drew momentarily together in concern, so he lifted a mandible in a half-smile and tipped his drink to her. I’m fine , have fun. Luckily, she was far enough away to not spot his lie. She smiled back and disappeared behind the fireplace to where Wrex was making an awful lot of noise.
Despite his semi-secluded location, Garrus wasn’t alone for very long as strangely Zaeed wandered his way up the stairs and eventually joined Garrus at the railing. Of anyone that Garrus might have suspected of possibly joining him, Zaeed had not made the list. They stood in silence, side by side, for a few minutes, letting the noise of the party filter up and between them, till finally Zaeed spoke.
“Shoulda figured you’d find the one decent sniper perch in this place,” he grumbled, not quite impressed but not quite not impressed.
Garrus smiled wryly, watching Shepard move to the kitchen beneath him. “Makes a good hiding spot too.”
Zaeed sniffed. “Nah. You’re not hiding.”
That made Garrus look over at him, a humorless chuckle leaving him in a breath. “I’m not?”
Zaeed just shook his head. “Been around long enough to be able to see the difference between hiding and haunted.”
Any amusement was immediately sucked out of Garrus. He watched the traffic fly past the window outside for a minute as he tried to come up with any remotely dignified response. “Perhaps,” was the best he could muster.
They were silent for another few minutes, leaving Garrus to wonder if Zaeed had come up here for the specific purpose of calling him out. He was proven wrong when he spoke again.
“Omega will always remember Archangel. For good and ill,” Zaeed said before taking another sip.
Garrus nodded slowly, unwilling to damn himself any further than necessary.
“Least you know if they track you down, you’ll get another chance to repay them for your mug,” he added nonchalantly.
He was supposed to chuckle at that. Or at least smile. But the mere mention in the waking hours was enough to make him smell copper again, feel the stiffening weight of a very specific body in his arms. He took another long drink in lieu of any sort of response. They both watched Shepard reappear from the kitchen to go talk to Grunt at the front door.
“Or… it’s not you you’re worried about,” Zaeed added in a low tone.
Garrus glanced over at him finally. “That obvious?”
Zaeed shrugged. “Anyone with two braincells to rub together can see how you two guard each other’s back come hell or high water.” He frowned down into his glass. “It’s enough to make you sick at times,” he added, managing to sound both sincere and pissed off all at once in a thoroughly Zaeed way.
For a minute, Garrus just watched the back of Shepard’s head--her affection for her krogan ‘son’ obvious just from her stance. “On Omega, I wasn’t there when my team was slaughtered,” he admitted, not taking his eyes away from her. “I know she’s capable, I know she’s deadly. She’s Commander Shepard , for spirits’ sake. But I’m… unlucky.”
Garrus could feel Zaeed looking at him, but Garrus decided to just drink some more so he didn’t have to meet his gaze, unfortunately finishing his glass in the process. The world was softened just slightly, but still not enough for him to truly relax.
“Eh,” Zaeed grunted, scratching his chin slightly. “Not your fault.”
Now Garrus glanced at him. “It’s not?”
“No. It’s this goddamn apartment.” Zaeed swept an arm across their impressive view. “How’s any intelligent person supposed to relax in a place like this?”
Garrus looked down at where the rest of their friends seemed to be managing the relaxing part quite easily. “Sure,” he replied, not really agreeing.
“If this was the apartment of one of your marks, you’d be thanking your lucky stars that they picked this place.” He pointed to a balcony on the other side of the traffic lanes. “You’d set up shop right there, and watch them live their whole life through these stupid bloody windows before you were ready to end it. Hell, timing the shot through traffic would just make it fun.”
Garrus gave him a bewildered look. “You have an odd way of trying to cheer someone up.”
“I’m not trying to cheer you up, you idiot. We’re trying to make this place not a death trap.” Zaeed looked from the living room to Garrus, a light coming to his eyes that usually only accompanied homicide. “Or alternatively… make it someone else’s death trap.” Never mind.
Maybe it was the five glasses of horosk, or maybe it was that Garrus hadn’t had more than three consecutive hours of sleep in a week--but that made a lot of sense. He looked down at the living room, seeing not the party but a fortress that could be defended with some planning and a little prep work.
“What are you guys doing over here?” Shepard asked, unexpectedly at Garrus’ side. Automatically, his subvocals kicked up with warm, overwhelming affection that thankfully neither human could hear. But by the look in Shepard’s eyes, somehow she knew anyway.
“Looking at this poor excuse of an apartment, that’s what,” Zaeed answered, scoffing and shaking his head disapprovingly.
Shepard frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”
“What would you do if--” Zaeed glanced at Garrus. “If another one of your clones broke in here, eh? Offer them a cup of tea?”
Shepard didn’t look convinced.
“There are too many windows,” Garrus tried to explain, feeling like he was doing a pretty good job of it too. “And they’re too big. Makes it easy for someone to track your movement.” Her sardonic look melted away into something he couldn’t quite place but was in the neighborhood of concern. “But it’s got potential,” he amended, a hand resting on her shoulder. “Be easy to set up a defensible position over there.” He pointed to the back half of the living room. It even already had the bar which was very important when setting up bunkers.
“I’d extend the wall out. Prevent someone sticking you in the back,” Zaeed added.
Garrus nodded repeatedly, enthusiasm really starting to roll now. “Good idea! Wish I could have done that back in the day on Omega.”
He was stopped in his tracks by Shepard resting a gentle hand on his waist. Through his armor he couldn’t feel her warmth, just the slight pressure and the comfort of the familiar gesture. “Why don’t you two relax and enjoy the party?” she suggested in a coaxing tone. “The apartment’s fine.”
Garrus shook his head, thoroughly unwilling to abandon this train of thought. “‘Fine’ is good for someone else, not the love of my life.”
Her eyes went from amused to surprised, and Garrus realized a moment too late that he still hadn’t told her about that particular status that she’d earned for him a while back. But drunk and haunted was not the state he wanted to be when he eventually did tell her. So he rushed past it.
“I--I want to know you’re safe,” he amended in a gentler tone, resting both hands on her shoulders now. His subvocals dropped from affection into worry, the real concern leaking through his attempt at levity. “Suppose it isn’t your clone? Suppose it’s…” Aware now that his tongue was not to be trusted, he held back what he actually feared breaking down their door. “Liara’s clone that comes after you… or Joker’s.”
Everything was pleasantly blurry. It was work to focus on Shepard’s face and try and parse all the tiny expressions that were dancing there. He wasn’t sure he caught them all before Zaeed interrupted the moment.
“Then you and all your clones can have a sodding love fest. Think I’m gonna puke.”
Shepard laughed once and squeezed Garrus’ arms as she stepped back. “Alright. Have fun.”
She winked at him before turning and heading around the corner, Garrus watching her till she disappeared out of sight.
“Do you really think we can make this place defensible?” he asked, turning back to face Zaeed.
“Easy. All we need’s a few hours, and this place could be the most defensible flat this side of Shanxi.”
“Let’s do it.”
The rest of the party was a bit of a blurry mess after that. There were just flashes from the following few hours. Garrus definitely had more drinks-- that he was certain of. At one point, he rewired Shepard’s coffee maker, only succeeding in making it ineffective as both a coffee maker and a bomb. But by the end of the party, his mood had at least been drowned out by enough liquor and tinkering that he was the one who pulled Shepard from the dance floor and up the stairs. If he could somehow record the low-throated chuckle she let out as his hands slid down to her waist, he’d be a happy, happy turian to let it play on loop.
Once they were behind closed doors, Garrus pressed his face to her neck, inhaling the wonderfully maddening scent of the Shepard he loved.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked, hands gently massaging the back of his neck.
“Always feel better around you,” he murmured, just pressing into her further, holding her closer.
“No, I mean…” She pulled back enough to see his face. Her hand cupped his mandible tenderly. “You’ve been kind of… off all day. And then you spent most of our party rigging the apartment to explode with Zaeed.”
“Won’t actually explode… don’t think so anyway.”
She studied his face for a long moment, eyebrows pulling together. “Does this have anything to do with you waking me up in the middle of the night last night to check my pulse?”
He stepped away, dropping to sit on the bed and rub a hand on the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he sighed.
“Garrus, look at me.” She slipped a hand under his chin and tilted his face up to meet her gaze again. There was enough love and concern in her gaze that his throat tightened. What did he ever do to deserve her? “I won’t pry. But… Love, I think you’d feel better if you just told me.”
He took her hands in his, shaking his head and withdrawing. “Just a bad dream, ridiculous, juvenile--”
“Hey.” The no-nonsense tone in her voice stopped him in his tracks. “Do you think it’s ridiculous and juvenile when I wake up from nightmares?”
“ No --no, of course not.” He squeezed her hands in assurance. “But this… it’s… different.”
“How?”
“I-- I don’t know. It just is.”
“Garrus… honey, love of my life.” She closed the distance between them, cuddling up on his lap and cradling his head in her arms. She held him for a while before pressing a kiss to his forehead, making his heart flutter and squeeze in response. “It’s okay to be scared. In fact I’d say being scared is the only logical and intelligent position to have these days.”
Some part of him was mildly embarrassed to have been found out and by her of all people. He wanted to be her anchor, her shelter through all of this--apparently that feeling went both ways.
“Doesn’t feel logical or intelligent…” he finally said, not moving from her arms.
“No, it doesn’t. But it doesn’t make you any less so for being scared. And it could never make me love you less either. You know that, right?”
He nodded. “I know,” he promised, voice tight.
She kissed his forehead again. “And if there’s anything I can do to help you feel safer, let me know and it’ll be done. I promise.”
He pulled her down for a proper kiss, tender and aching with words left unsaid. Carefully, he turned them so she was lying back on the bed as he kissed her. But before his senses could be wholly consumed by her, he pressed his brow to hers.
“I… I meant what I said earlier… all of it. I just…” He huffed a breath in frustration with himself. “I’m not-- I want-- I want it to be right .”
She smiled. “I know. And I knew. Tell me when you’re ready. I’ll be here. Always.”
So he kissed her again and again and again.