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“You know I don’t like surprises, Garrus. Surprises usually end up with people shooting at me.”
“And as much as I enjoy watching you shoot back at those people, this isn’t that, Shepard. I promise,” Garrus chuckled, enjoying the warmth of her hand in his, her five fingers interlocking effortlessly with his three.
It might have been his imagination, but the Presidium seemed brighter now than before the war. Cleaner even. The Citadel’s artificial sunlight would never blister skin or tan the hide of its residents, but he couldn’t deny the pleasant flush to his neck as he and Shepard took their time roaming through the gardens and over the bridges that spanned the Commons.
“Promises, promises,” She teased, smirking and giving his hand an extra squeeze for good measure.
Of course, the fluttery heat in his belly was also in thanks to the human at his side, right where she belonged. Garrus couldn’t take his eyes off Shepard as they continued towards the Citadel Tower. The sight of her like this - blissful and airy, the weight of trillions of lives finally lifted from her shoulders - soaked into his pores and burned away the chill that had settled deep into his bones over the last few months. He was determined to commit this to memory, the lightness to her every step, and the brightness of her eyes without the dark rings beneath them. She wore the tranquil, half-lidded gaze that was usually reserved for the quiet moments they would share after he laid her bare and chased her body to the edge of madness with his tongue – a rhapsody that would linger between them until the next galactic catastrophe called to her.
This was it, the future they had fought so long and hard for. And having her, like this, the easiness of her splendor, was the only accolade he had ever wanted.
“Really?” Shepard groaned as they stopped in front of the tower, Garrus reached out to call the elevator that would take them skyward. “I think I’d rather get shot at than speak to the Councilors.”
“Shepard, please, have a little faith,” he scoffed, flicking his mandibles in a grin. “When have I ever let you down?”
Shepard leaned into him and wrapped her arm around him, fingertips dancing on his waist - he knew he shouldn’t have been able to feel through his armor but did anyway - the sensation causing a fresh batch of endorphins to flood his system. “Alright, I’ll trust you, Big Guy,” she said quietly.
“That’s the spirit.” He pulled her closer and rumbled against her hair, drawing a laugh and an involuntary shudder from her. Her hair smelled exactly as he remembered – fresh and warm, like a sunrise.
Déjà vu all over again, a redundant human idiom Garrus had heard Shepard say, on numerous occasions, came to mind as they ascended the stairs and stopped in front of the fountain. This was the spot where Executor Pallin had chewed his ass out, ordering him to end his investigation on Saren. Garrus had already racked up a few demerits by this time for not strictly conforming to the protocols and procedures that were demanded of a C-Sec detective. He had figured this final black mark on his record could possibly be the end of his tenure with the force. Garrus had already begun to imagine how his father would handle this news when Shepard stomped up those very stairs and into his life.
She hadn’t been made the first human Spectre yet, but she carried herself as if she had. Garrus had an idea of who she was based on news vids; he recognized the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz and knew she was assigned to the experimental warship that was borne from human and turian cooperation. Though she stood much shorter than he, the confidence and determination she exuded, unintentionally or not, made her seem larger than life, as statuesque as a savior of old with a carefully tended shrine on Palaven. He could admit to himself now that he may have been a bit starstruck by her. Okay, maybe a lot.
They leaned against the railing that circled the fountain, silently appreciating the water as it danced and the scent of the council chambers - sweet and piquant aromas of the flora that were brought in from the Council homeworlds. Garrus recognized the famous Janiri Teardrops that hailed from Thessia, small, plum-colored berries that were cold to the touch and bursting with sweetness – so he had been told – interspersed with a bioluminescent seaweed that kept the shadow boxes of flowers vibrant even in the dim light. It wasn’t hard to guess the seaweed that had no need of an aquarium had been exported from Sur’Kesh. And the most abundant of all, Flos of Palaven. A soft, silver-petaled flower that grew in abundance on his world. It would almost be considered a weed if not for the way it bloomed and shined in moonlight; its saving grace from extinction was its loveliness, found in every respectable turian family’s private gardens. His mother had loved them.
Soon his appreciation of the beauty that surrounded him fell solely to Shepard again as she smiled sadly and stuck her arm out into the fountain’s spray, a fine mist of bubbles that gently popped on her skin like champagne rain. Tricked into thinking the dim of the chamber was moonlight, the Flos glimmered brilliantly behind her, creating an ethereal halo effect that encircled her and caused his breath to catch in his throat.
Garrus was suddenly struck with a thought that nearly made him laugh out loud. What if he was able to go back in time, to this very spot, and tell his younger self what his life would become after running away to join Shepard’s mission? There was no doubt his younger self would vibrate in his plates at the opportunity for an adventure and a real chance to exact justice in an unjust galaxy. But how would he react if Garrus were to tell him that the human commander would one day become the love of his life? He barely believed it himself, and he was neck deep in it. It had come on so slowly that Garrus couldn’t determine the moment he’d been pulled into her orbit, unable to escape the force of her gravity, making him feel things he never thought he had been capable of. The moons rose and fell with her, the tides churned and ebbed for her, and he would follow her into hell as many times as she’d have him. Anything for her.
He knew exactly what his younger self would say, “This is pathetic. What could a woman do to put you in this state?” Because those were his exact words upon meeting the lovesick turian general who chose love over duty when it came to Sha’ira, the asari Consort. If Garrus had sounded disgusted, it’s because he was. How could someone once so mighty and respected be brought low by love’s sharp sting? It just didn’t make sense to him at the time. “You think you have all the answers when you only have half of the information,” his father had scolded him numerous times over the years, and Garrus finally understood. He really had been an arrogant little shit.
“It’s a beautiful fountain,” Shepard commented softly, breaking him free of his thoughts, and pushed herself from the railing, “But is it all you wanted me to see?”
“There’s more to it, Captain Oblivious,” Garrus chuckled and turned to face her. They stood nearly in the exact spots where their very first conversation had occurred.
“It’s Captain Obvious, smart ass.” Shepard sighed in mock exasperation, arching an eyebrow at him before realization brought a softness to her eyes. “Oh.” She reached for his hands, and he immediately accepted the invitation, his subvocals thrumming with adoration as he stepped closer to her. “This is where we first met.”
Garrus nodded his head maybe too enthusiastically, if her lilting giggle was anything to go by. She pulled him flush against her and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “Sometimes I forget how romantic you can be, Vakarian.”
“Hmm, well, do me a favor and don’t spread it around. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Don’t worry,” She whispered and tipped her face up, closing her eyes in a silent request for a kiss. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He eagerly pressed down to brush his crest against her brow, the intimacy of her touch turning his whole body into a live wire, thrumming with electricity. Garrus had been desperate to have this with her again, even if it was for the last time.
Shepard must have been feeling wistful as well, nuzzling against him for longer than usual. “Remember our first kiss?” She breathed against his mouth.
Garrus always knew when he was about to blurt out something that hadn’t been filtered through his brain yet, as if it was an intentional attempt to ruin a nice moment, yet he just couldn’t control himself sometimes. “Yes, I do. It was very… wet. I didn’t anticipate how messy it would be either.”
Spirits bless Shepard for not pushing him away, telling him he was impossibly awkward or obtuse, like other women had before. She only laughed softly, her shoulders trembling slightly in his arms.
“That’s very charming.” She smiled. “But I meant our real first kiss. This.” She nuzzled against him again, harder this time for emphasis.
“I, uh,” Garrus stammered, taken off guard by her admission, “I didn’t know you felt that way, Shepard. I thought it was primarily a motion you went through to make me feel comfortable.”
“It may have started like that,” Shepard admitted, brushing his face once more with her brow and ghosting her lips across his mouth, before settling back on her heels to look him in the eyes when she spoke again. “I always thought it was a nice gesture, but it took a while for me to fully appreciate it.” She raised a hand to his marred mandible and stroked it softly with her thumb, placing her palm flush against his face. Garrus closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, wishing they could stay here forever. “You see, it can’t be wild, sloppy, or accidental like a human kiss. You have to pay attention and you have to have consent, or it could go… painfully wrong. The seriousness in its intent and its implications… I believe it’s the most romantic gesture in the entire galaxy.”
Struck momentarily dumb with awe by her confession, he could tell his mandibles were completely slack and his mouth was hanging wide open by the way her cheeks rapidly flushed pink with embarrassment.
“Maybe, uh.” She glanced away and took a small step away from him, laughing nervously. “Maybe I said a little too much.”
“No,” Garrus nearly growled, reaching for her and pulling her back into his embrace. He lowered his head for another turian kiss - a real kiss, she had said - before pressing his mouth plates against her lips. “There’s something to be said for human kisses too, you know.” He prodded her moist lips with his tongue, beckoning her mouth to open to him. They relaxed against each other as her soft, pink tongue tentatively reached out to meet his raspy, blue one.
Garrus didn’t know how many minutes had passed as they kissed. Their tongues chased each other in a gentle game that wasn’t as desperate and wanting as he had been expecting. It was patient and kind and every sigh and whimper that echoed between them only had one meaning. I love you.
When the kiss broke, they embraced, her fingers gripping the inside of his cowl as he nestled into her neck, his hands finding her back and trailing his talons softly up and down her spine.
“I miss you,” she whispered into his chest, her voice struggling not to crack.
“Spirits, I miss you too,” he gasped. Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to see that tears had begun to well in her thick lashes, the sight nearly cracking his heart into pieces. “You have to come back, Shepard. I can’t…”
“You can.” She placed her hands on his face before he could finish his sentence, surely knowing the direction it was taking. She swiped her tears away with the back of her hand and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not as stylishly, of course.”
Garrus closed his eyes and tried not to plead. “Shepard, I’m serious.”
“I’ll always come back for you.” He heard her words, but her voice sounded strange, as if they had a bad connection over a device, dropping syllables at random times, breaking up her declaration. Garrus leaned over for one last kiss, but he couldn’t find the comforting pressure of her. The warmth of her body in his grasp had also begun to dissipate, and she was growing colder by the second.
An alarming trilling noise he'd never experienced before erupted from his subvocals when he noticed his own hands were transparent and falling right through her. Shepard was still wearing that small, sad smile but she was fading fast, becoming as translucent as cellophane right before his eyes. The mind-meld was ending.
“No, not yet!” Garrus shouted and grabbed at Shepard wildly, his hands going right through her at every pass. “Please! I just need a little more time!”
“I’m so sorry, Garrus. I can’t hold on any longer.” He looked past Shepard to find Liara standing against the floral shadow boxes - even their light was flickering lowly. How long had she been standing there? Her voice was clear and melodic, tinkling like a windchime over the screaming in his head. The asari looked exhausted, her eyes were misty and her face puffy, stained with salty tears.
“Liara, please!” Garrus keened, but he knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that the meld was over. His words were loud and harsh in his own ears as they bounced off the barren, metal walls of the field hospital.
Garrus couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes yet, clenching his teeth and willing himself back into meld, where Shepard’s hand was plump and warm and didn’t feel like a broken winged bird that he had crushed in his palm – back to where he could smell life, and the Flos flowers, and the sunlight in Shepard’s hair, not these offensive odors that burned his throat and reeked of bleach, antiseptic, and charred flesh. Once he opened his eyes, it would truly be over, and he’d be right back to where he started: a world where Shepard lay unresponsive in a tiny hospital bed, fighting for her life. Again.
A gentle hand on his shoulder jerked Garrus abruptly from his sorrow and he quickly fixed his blurry eyes on Liara, stars bursting in his vision at the sudden invasion of the cold, abrasive fluorescent lights. Once his sight had cleared, he saw that she looked as miserable here as she had in the meld.
“This is exactly why I thought this was a bad idea, Garrus. I knew it would bring only pain,” The asari sighed and looked at Shepard, “As if we don’t have enough of that right now.”
He didn’t answer her, instead leaning closer to Shepard to drag his thumb over the top of her hand, tracing every delicate, fragile bone against his hide. The room was quiet except for the click and wheeze of the ventilator that rhythmically forced air into her lungs, her chest rising and falling in steady time to the machine’s urgings. To look at her from her right side, it was easy to pretend nothing was seriously wrong, except perhaps that she was too thin - her firm muscles were diminishing quickly from the inactivity. Other than that and the ventilator, perhaps he could trick himself into thinking she was only sleeping.
Her left side, however, bore the real damage she had suffered to kill the reapers. They said she had suffered third degree burns to 46% of her body, a traumatic brain injury which required an emergency surgery to relieve the pressure of her brain colliding into her skull, and her left leg had been almost completely crushed – after three surgeries they still weren’t sure they’d be able to save it in the end.
They didn’t know if she’d walk again. They didn’t know if she’d speak again. They didn’t know if she’d live again.
Garrus stayed by her side, day after day, night after night, only allowing himself to be chased away when Shepard was scheduled for surgery. He tried to stay hopeful, as the weeks blended together, but it’s impossible to drown your demons when they can outswim you.
Standing from his bedside chair, he began to pull it around the bed, not caring as it screeched the entire way with the metal dragging against the tile floor. Sitting again on Shepard’s left this time, he lifted a hand to rest against her bandaged cheek, a loving gesture she had honored him with years ago. He pressed his brow to her forehead as gently as he could, just barely feeling her. A re-creation of the first kiss she enjoyed remembering, even if their roles were reversed and these were vastly different circumstances than the night of the Omega-4 Relay.
Liara was inching her way out of the room, clearly feeling as if she was invading on something private, but Garrus caught her in the corner of his vision before she could fully escape. “Liara, wait a second.” He was surprised at how much calmer he sounded now than he had five minutes earlier.
She didn’t answer but consented by halting her awkward retreat from the room, placing her hands behind her back and waiting for his question.
Stroking a talon along Shepard’s bandaged cheek with the barest of touches, his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Was this okay to do? I mean, was it ethical?”
The asari smiled, maybe for the first time all day. “Yes, Garrus. I asked her permission before melding the two of you together. She wanted to see you too.”
He huffed a humorless laugh. There was something so sad and cruel to all of this - for fate or spirits or whoever to bring her back to him only for her to die on a table in the middle of nowhere. It couldn’t happen. Commander Shepard deserved more than this.
“Get some rest, please, Garrus.” Liara bowed meekly before turning to the door again.
“Liara… Thank you. This meant a lot to me… to us." He took Shepard's hand and held it between his two. "I won’t let her give up."
The asari nodded. “I know you won’t, Garrus.”