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She didn’t know why the universe wanted to give her a clone for Christmas, but the reason why wasn’t so important right now. There wasn’t a return policy so she had to make sure it got thrown out with the trash.
Her callous attitude toward her clone was the only way Shepard could deal with this all right now. The feelings had to be unpacked later, preferably on a beach with a mimosa in hand.
She followed Commander Bailey through the ‘Do Not Cross’ line and into the area of the Wards where the clone had fallen. Shepard needed to make sure that they were dead and nothing was going to come back and haunt her. It was a long fall and not many could survive that. But since she was a clone of her there was the chance that she would survive.
“You know, if you had told me that a Cerberus attack would not be the weirdest thing I dealt with in the past six months, I would tell you that you were crazy. But here I am, leading Commander Shepard through a lightly destroyed Ward to make sure her clone is dead.” Bailey led her to an elevator in the evacuated building. “On Christmas morning no less!”
Shepard gave him a wry smile. “Plans, Bailey?”
She knew he had no plans. He wouldn’t have been the one to personally escort her if he did.
“Just an egg sandwich and more paperwork with my name on it. Actually, I would say this is a present in and of itself, Shepard. Which is good because I can only have so many Best Commander in the Galaxy mugs.”
Shepard laughed, glad for the company that Bailey was giving her. “I don’t even have one of those. The squad is going to hear nothing but complaints until I get one.”
“Be thankful. Once they start knowing you like mugs, they never stop coming. I’m only one man and my caffeine intake can only be so high in one day.”
“Whatcha up to?”
“Yesterday, it was seven. On a good day, I can go down to five.”
“A couple of days I haven’t even gone to sleep. Just rode the next day on caffeine and stress.”
“Ah, the delights of command during a war.”
“Do you think the Reapers will play soccer with us today if we ask them to?”
“A history nerd too, Shepard? You’re hitting all of the ‘born and bred for military tropes’.”
The elevator stopped, opening to a terrace that spanned across a majority of her vision. “It’s not like its unknown history, Bailey. That story from the early twentieth is told in every single basic training class.” Shepard didn’t elaborate that she wasn’t born and bred. She didn’t know that story until her first day in basic. And she was the only recruit in the whole class that was actually paying attention.
“So, she’s over there. Covered up. Check her if you want, but the coroner said she was dead on impact.”
Shepard nodded, closing the distance between the covered body and her. This was not a situation she had ever thought she would find herself in. The implications, the confusion…well, Merry Christmas to her.
*****
She said goodbye to Bailey on the street level of the Ward. Everyone was busy today either with holiday plans or just regular plans. James and Steve were down in the refugee camp boosting morale and talking with anyone who needed it. Kaidan was in Spectre headquarters setting up a secure channel with his family on Earth. Sam had plans to play a virtual chess tournament with her parents if they could establish a stable connection (Shepard made sure EDI did her best to ensure this happened). Dr. Chakwas had friends on the Citadel she wanted to connect with before heading to Cerberus HQ. Joker and EDI had their own plans and the aliens on her crew had said they needed some time to recharge after the clone debaucle the day before.
Even Garrus didn’t have time today. He said he had a war council meeting with the Primarch and other generals. Shepard understood, but it just highlighted the reason why Christmas was not the best time of year for her. Better to just treat it like a normal day.
And that was the plan.
She walked through the streets, avoiding any throngs of people so she wouldn't be recognized. She turned on her aural implants, a stream of music keeping her company as she strolled. It was almost enough for her not to remember what had happened the past twenty-four hours and what happened every year for the past thirty-two.
Still, pangs hit her chest with every storefront that was decorated for the major human holiday. She stopped in front of a small gift shop, her eyes unfocused on the bright display.
Soon, she was grasping for memories of Christmas that didn’t bring such loneliness.
She remembered the one good memory she had. And while there was sadness associated with it, it wasn’t sad in and of itself.
Shepard thought back to when Anderson spent Christmas afternoon with her. The station was more or less empty, many of her fellow N5 recruits returned home for the holidays. She had opted to take over the normal N5 duties for the station. Anderson found her in the gym and invited her to his office for dinner and company.
Their conversation was light and insightful and interesting. Even then, Anderson treated her as an equal, offering advice not from a position of power, but as someone wishing to see her succeed. Shepard recalled this conversation regularly, the feeling and some of the words helping guide her since then. One quote got caught rattling around her mind.
Sometimes you have to make it happen all on your own. He had been speaking about something different she was sure. But as she stared into the shop window, Shepard was hit with the thought that she didn’t put the effort in elsewhere. Sure, she could put her life on the line again and again for the galaxy, but when it came to her it was much harder to convince herself that she had to try there too.
Something got lost between military duty and Shepard duty. She sighed. A product in the window caught her eye. As her mind turned, she was reminded that Shepard duty included her friends and most of all, Garrus. He had become her shoulder, confidante, advisor, in addition to boyfriend. And yet, he did not ask for anything in return. She needed to rectify that.
She entered the store, determined to make Christmas happen for her.
*****
Shepard wasn’t expecting Garrus to be in the apartment when she returned, shopping bag in hand. She quickly tucked the bag behind her back, head quirked at his presence. “I thought you would be in council all day.”
“What, don’t like seeing me when you come home?” His mandibles clicked as he tore his gaze from the datapad in his hand. He leaned against the railing on the second floor, ever the sniper.
“You know that’s not true,” she replied, taking a few steps farther into the apartment. “If I could have you waiting in my Cabin after every mission, you know I would.”
“That can be arranged.”
Shepard smiled. This was a good start. He was here and happy already. That was more than she could say of many Christmases past.
“Come down here.”
“Why?”
“That was an order, Vakarian.”
“Already cranky without the stars surrounding you?” Amusement entered his tone, but Garrus descended the staircase, tossing the datapad onto the kitchen counter. “Now, what do you need, Commander?”
“Do you know what day today is?”
Garrus’ mandibles stilled at the question. Shepard thought she heard a low rumble from his chest, but that was cut off by his quick words. “Is it an important day? Spirits, did I miss your birthday? No, that’s not for a few months. Is it some kind of anniversary? Wait, let me check—”
Shepard shook her head, holding back a smile unsuccessfully. “Nothing like that. It’s Christmas.”
His shoulders relaxed, letting out a held breath. “That’s the human holiday, right? Joker mentioned something about it this morning, but I didn’t realize you celebrated. Last year I think you skipped what Kasumi planned.”
“I don’t normally. But I thought maybe this year we could try?” Shepard sat the bag on the counter, pulling out two bottles. First, alcohol.” She tossed the dextro wine to Garrus who caught it one-handed, a brow plate raised in interest. “Second…well, let me preface this by saying that I think you told me once that you wanted to learn how to paint. So my gift to you is: learning to paint.”
Shepard pulled out two boxes and handed one to Garrus. She looked down at her own - Paint by Numbers: Citadel Edition.
He was silent and she wondered if she did this all wrong. Maybe Christmas gifts were supposed to be more extravagant. Maybe she should’ve got that new Widow scope she saw on her walk this morning. Maybe–
Her thoughts were cut off by the hulking turian mass that engulfed her in a hug. She tossed her box onto a nearby stool and moved her hands to squeeze Garrus back. He must’ve done the same as she felt his hands grip against her sweater. She let out a small laugh as he tightened his grip on her waist and picked her off the ground.
“It’s not even my holiday.”
“I heard that Christmas is about giving,” she replied, her voice muffled against his chest. She wrapped her legs around him, relaxing after what seemed like years.
“Well, I think you might’ve won Christmas.”
Shepard couldn’t help but melt a little in his arms. “You wouldn’t prefer the new scope model for the Widow?”
She felt the vibrations of his vocals against her chest and could tell it was one of happiness. “No, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”
Garrus set her down and she looked up at him, running her hands down the side of his torso. “You’ve done more for me these past few months–years, even–than anyone else I’ve ever known. You deserve it.”
He let out a sound of derision, but he was smiling. “Why don’t we see if we’re secret artists? I have to send a quick message and I will be back.”
Shepard nodded, bringing the wine and painting supplies over to the bar. It was as good a place as any. She pulled out wine glasses and adjusted the bar stool for Garrus. When he returned, she had just placed their identical white and black Citadel paint-by-numbers in front of each seat.
She looked up and saw that Garrus was standing a couple of meters away, a box held outstretched in his hand. What was he doing? “I thought you didn’t know it was Christmas.”
“I didn’t.” He reached up and ran a hand over his fringe, his feet fidgeting slightly. “But I have had this for a little while, trying to find the right moment to give it to you.”
Shepard took it from his hand, carefully pulling at the bow that was tied perfectly. She wanted to keep this forever. It was her first Christmas present in years (if she didn’t count the Secret Santa gift Grunt tried to give her last year–it took a couple of weeks to forget the trauma associated with opening a fully sealed box with a dead hamster in it).
She took off the ribbon and put it on the bar, before using her nails to cut the tape and gently pull apart the wrapping paper. It revealed a small black box. Shepard quirked an eyebrow. “This isn’t some turian mating ritual, is it?”
Garrus laughed. “No. Not really.”
“Not really?”
“I guess it’s a turian’s mating ritual.”
Shepard opened the black box to see a small metal flower. She picked it up, running her finger across the ridges and grooves. It was painted blue, even using different pigments of blue to make it look more realistic.
“Uh, so that’s a metal flower that I made. Well, Tali helped me. So it should be able to attach to your armour if you want and there’s a little notch on it to make it into a necklace if you would prefer that. Spirits, it’s a little stupid isn’t it?”
Shepard shook her head, fingers still tracing the edges of the metal petals. “You made this?”
“You mentioned once that it sucked that you couldn’t keep anything alive on the Normandy besides its crew. And that sometimes you missed the green part of living on Earth. So…I mean it's not alive, but it's close.”
He looked at her expectantly and Shepard had to tear her gaze from his gift. God, her heart was beating so loud. She loved this turian. Her turian. “It doesn't have to be alive. You know how much I love botany in any form. It's...Garrus, I think you win Christmas.”
“That’s not even the best part.”
“What do you mean?”
Garrus pulled out his omni-tool and ran his talons across a few buttons. “Should be connected.”
“Connected?”
“Press in one of the petals.”
Shepard did as instructed and music filled her ear. It was a song that she remembered Garrus had shown her a few weeks ago. It started soft and then a strong masculine voice came in singing in a Turian dialect. She pressed in the petal again and the song paused. Shepard looked at him, eyes wide.
Garrus put a hand over hers. “I made you–what do humans call it?–a mixtape. I know I could’ve just sent you the songs to ID on your omni-tool, but this felt better. Whenever you need a little bit of me, you can just turn it on.”
“You are such a sap, Garrus.”
“You like it?”
“I love it. And you.”
“I love you, too.”
She reached a hand out and found Garrus’ face. She pulled him closer and placed a kiss on his mandible. Garrus’ hand migrated to the back of her head and pressed their foreheads together.
“So…I set up a painting evening for us,” Shepard said, her voice a little husky.
“We can leave it for a little bit, right?” Garrus picked her up out of the barstool and held her tight against his chest.
Shepard nodded. She ran a hand along his face and over his fringe, touching a soft spot at the nape of his neck that she knew he liked. His chest vibrated and he pressed his mandible against her cheek.
“Where?” he asked, already almost out of breath.
“There’s a hot tub upstairs…” Garrus didn’t let her finish the sentence, whisking her up the stairs.
“Is that what Christmas is like?” Garrus asked as they walked toward the bedroom.
“It can be.”
“It just become my favourite holiday. Period.”
Shepard laughed as Garrus carried her into her bedroom, the sound of the hot tub greeting their ears. And soon their laughter would turn into sweet love.
Best Christmas ever. Maybe next year she would make sure it lasted the whole day. Shepard was determined to leave the bad Christmases in the past.
She just had to try.