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Shepard strode inside, the glass doors parting before her. A glorious smile spread across her face when she spotted the single occupant of the building, perched on a barstool.
It was her best friend in the entire galaxy.
“Leave it to you to scope out the bar before me.” She walked towards him, arms held out in greeting as she reached his side.
“Did say I’d meet you here. Didn’t promise not to drink the bar dry first, though.”
They shared a hug and Shepard pushed herself onto a neighbouring stool. “It’s damn good to see you, Garrus. I wasn’t sure if you’d… well, you know.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Same here. Should have known better. Not even the Reapers can keep a good Shepard down.”
They shared a brief smile before Shepard glanced around, taking in the glass floors and high walls. The glass was unusual in that it was crystal clear, but nothing could be seen beyond it save a soft light, its source unknown. Somewhere just on the edge of hearing, a beautiful yet haunting melody played, but Shepard was at a loss to identify the instrumentation; it was like nothing she’d ever heard.
“This is quite a place. Where is everyone?”
“Said I’d meet you after the war,” Garrus replied. “Don’t remember inviting anyone else.”
“No, I mean shouldn’t there be other people here, drinking? Shouldn’t there be a bar staff at least?”
Garrus shrugged. “Guess there aren’t that many of us left.” He sighed before clearing his throat. “Anyway, saviour of the galaxy shouldn’t have to pay for her own drinks.” He hopped off the stool and went behind the bar, finding an expensive-looking bottle of silver liquid. “Not sure what this is, but I’m guessing I’ll drink you under the table with it.”
“You’re on, Vakarian.”
Garrus filled two glasses and pushed one across to his friend, who held hers aloft. “To the Reapers.”
“You’re kidding me.”
She shook her head. “No. I figure nobody ever made a toast to the Reapers before, and now they’re gone, nobody ever will.”
“Hm. Always have to beat everyone else to the punch, don’t you?” Garrus raised his own glass and tapped it against Shepard’s. “To the Reapers. Hope there’s a hell for them to rot in.”
“Amen to that.”
They sipped at their drinks in companionable silence, Garrus turning an inquisitive eye towards Shepard. “We’re not going to drink each other under the table at this rate. Wait… there isn’t even a table. Just this bar.”
She laughed quietly to herself and looked at her friend. “Maybe I don’t feel like getting tanked today. Maybe I feel like spending some quality time with my turian brother. Don’t know when we’ll get another chance like this.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “My people are going to need me, yours will need you… might be a long time before we see each other again. I’m… gonna miss all this, you know.”
“What, waking up each morning and wondering if it’ll be your last?”
He nodded. “And everything that came with it. End of life as we know it doesn’t seem so bad when you’ve got good people at your back.”
“The best,” she agreed. She reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses. “To you, Garrus. Couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“Well, sure, I know that,” he said immodestly, “and here’s to you, Shepard. Whatever I do with my life from here on in, nothing can compare with the past three years. And I’ve got you to thank for that. Now I’m going to shut up before I start bawling.”
“Knock yourself out,” she joked. “Wouldn’t know the difference anyhow.”
“My face might have been a little more expressive if you’d thrown yourself in front of that gunship on Omega. Weren’t you supposed to be protecting me from those mercs?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was busy trying not to get my ass shot off.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “So I did save it that day.”
Shepard grinned. “I suppose you did. That day.”
“And the next...”
“Garrus—”
“Aaaand the next.”
“Shut up so I can toast your ugly mug,” she said with a snort, raising her glass.
They proceeded to toast Garrus’s ruined face, as well as Shepard’s ass. By this time the alcohol was working through their systems, leaving them in a mellow and slightly sombre frame of mind.
“So, Shepard,” Garrus began as they leaned against the bar. “I gotta ask—any regrets?”
Her face fell and she turned slightly away from him, her shoulders rising and falling. “Too many.”
“But they all led you here,” he pointed out. “Everything happened for a reason. Everything was meant to happen.”
“Not everything,” she said so faintly he almost didn’t catch it. “On Virmire… I should have rescued them both. There must have been a way, I just couldn’t see it.”
“I was there,” he said firmly. “You were out of time. You made the decision that saved the most lives. Kaidan knew it was the right choice. They both did.”
She shook her head and stared into her drink.
“I know how much that decision hurt you, how much it cost you,” he said kindly.
“No, Garrus, I don’t think you do. Not really.”
He lightly touched her arm. “I know, Shepard. I really know.”
She turned away again, biting her lip to fight back tears. She thought she’d done all her grieving in private three years ago, but the mention of Kaidan’s name inflicted a raw, gaping wound to her insides.
But she’d be damned if she’d let Garrus see her cry.
“So,” she continued, pushing down the pain, though she still didn’t face him, “how about you? Anything you regret?”
“Hm. Yeah, I always regret not picking up that mark-4 silencer when I had the chance. The one on Ilium? Seem to recall you saying we’d have to get it later because we were on one of your missions. Never did go back.” He crossed his arms and waited until she turned back to him, wearing a genuine smile.
“Looks like I owe you one.”
“Nah. You saved the galaxy. I’ll let it go this time.”
“So we’re even?” she asked.
“Yeah, we’re even.”
At that moment, the entrance door slid open and a male and female turian walked in.
Garrus’s mandibles flexed and he rose to his full height as they approached. “It—it can’t be,” he rasped. “How did you… what are you… I—I mean… is it really you?”
Intrigued by the emotion in Garrus’s voice, Shepard watched as he embraced the female turian. The male, however, stayed back, coolly appraising Shepard.
“Garrus,” he said gruffly, “and you must be Commander Shepard.”
“That’s right,” she said, extending a hand. “And you are…?”
“Here for Garrus.”
The female turian released Garrus and turned to Shepard, dipping a small bow. “What my father means is, ‘thank you for saving the galaxy and taking care of my son’.
Warmth filled Shepard’s heart as she realised who the pair were. She held out a hand again. “It’s an honour to meet you both. Garrus told me you were on Palaven when the Reapers hit. Glad you made it here.”
“Hmm.” Garrus’s father clasped her hand, giving a brisk nod as he shook it. “Garrus, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“A lot to talk about?”
“That’s what I said. There are things you need to be made aware of. Come with us.”
Shepard remembered Garrus’s description of his father: a career military man, practical, methodical and not prone to emotional displays. But even she could see that the older man was barely restraining himself from hugging his son. Perhaps that would come later, in more private surroundings.
“Yes, sir.” Garrus stepped closer to Shepard, his usually unreadable face appearing pinched. “I need to go. I haven’t seen them for so long. I know we agreed to meet up here—”
“Of course you need to go.” She held his arm, also refraining from hugging him for fear of embarrassing him in front of his father. “We’ll see each other soon.”
“That a promise?”
“That’s a promise, old friend.”
“Are you gonna be okay? I’m… I’m sure someone else will show up soon.”
She forced a laugh, although she could not shake the feeling that this was goodbye. “Hell, Garrus, this is the first time to myself I’ve had in three years. I thought you’d never take the hint. Go on, get outta here.”
He nodded. “Will do. Remember—don’t be a stranger.”
She again approached Garrus’s father, stopping in front of him. “Look after him, sir. He’s very dear to me.”
The turian watched her for a beat before saluting, which she reciprocated. “Yes, Commander. And… well done. You should be very proud.”
He immediately turned and headed in the direction of the entrance, his children following. Before they left, Garrus looked back and waved.
And then they were gone.
She trudged back to the bar, feeling happy for Garrus… and yet a terrible melancholy took hold of her which she couldn’t explain, nor could she shake.
She wasn’t accustomed to being alone, to being without her Normandy family, the people she’d grown to care for, even love, over the past three years.
Where were they all? She racked her brain but couldn’t remember hearing of their fate. Why did she not know? All she could remember was keeping a promise to her friend, but now he was gone.
“Just you and me,” she said to her glass before filling it to the brim.
A little later, she raised her head from her folded arms, an empty bottle the first thing she saw. “Hell, did I drink all that?” she said around a dry mouth.
“They always said you could match a krogan ounce-for-ounce.”
She froze, her heart hammering, her mouth agape. The voice had come from behind her and it was a friendly one… but it had no business being there.
“Imagining things,” she muttered, a fluttering in her chest. “What the hell was in that drink?”
“It was there to help you... connect. It’s not what you think it is.”
The voice was closer this time, and she scrambled off the stool, rounding the bar, all the while keeping her back to the voice. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”
“Don’t be afraid,” said the voice.
“You can’t be here,” she replied, her own voice quaking.
“I’m not. Not really. But then neither are you. Take a look at yourself.”
She glanced upward, catching sight of herself in the large mirror to the rear of the bar. Her entire body shimmered, the silver liquid she’d drunk seeming to fill her and radiate out of her. “What the—?”
Then she saw him reflected back at her and squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head over and over again. “Please, don’t do this, whoever you are—you can’t pretend to be him.”
“It’s okay. You already know who I am. Listen to my voice. You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”
He was standing at her side but didn’t force his proximity on her. She felt a warm hand fold around her trembling one, its touch gentle but insistent. “You can’t be here,” she said again, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Look at me. I’m as real as you are.”
Her face contorted and her eyes slowly travelled up, seeing old-style Alliance armour, the suit with the pink panels she’d always teased him about.
The suit he’d worn on Virmire.
“How… how can you be here?”
“Well it’s simple. I waited for you.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t try to figure it out. Just accept it. I’m here.”
She raised her head further, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Why?”
“Because… I think you know why. Least I hope you do.”
“Where exactly are we?” she asked in hushed tones.
“There are things you need to be made aware of,” he said softly, “and I’m here to help you through. Will you come with me?”
“I—I don’t know. Garrus was just here with his family, we promised we’d meet up at the bar if—” Her heart seemed to stop momentarily, her entire body going numb as she realised what she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge.
“If ‘this thing goes sideways’?”
She backed away a step. “How could you know that? You can’t know that! That was a private conversation between Garrus and me! This… you! You’re just a dream, you have to be!”
He shook his head, his expression serene, and slowly closed the gap between them. “Garrus has his own place, like you’ll have yours. There’s a lot of people waiting for you. People who love you. Garrus is with the ones he loves now.”
“But that would mean he… his father as well? His sister?” She blinked several times, myriad thoughts rushing through her mind. “No, this is too much. I can’t—”
He stepped closer to her, laying his hands on her arms. “Shepard… Jane. It’s time for you to stop. Time for you to simply… be. Here, in this place.”
“What do you mean? What—what sort of place is it?”
“It’s a place where you don’t need to eat or sleep, where you don’t get sick or grow old, where there’s no hate, fear, greed, despair or loneliness.”
Still refusing to believe what her eyes and ears—and heart—were telling her, she frowned. “But if we don’t need to eat, what sustains us?”
He paused, bringing a hand to her chin and gently nudging her head up until she finally met his hazel eyes.
“Joy.”
Their eyes locked and she felt a lightness envelop her, like her body was made of nothing, but as she closed her fingers around his hand, he was as solid to her as he’d always been. Her chin trembled, a war between logic and emotion raging inside her.
“Listen to your inner voice,” he said. “It’ll tell you what you need to know.”
“It’s telling me this can’t be real,” she replied, “but dear God, I want it to be.”
“I’ve learned that ’real’ is a very subjective word. But if you believe I’m real, that you are, that the place we’re at and the place we’re going to are real, then they are. Let me show you.” He tightened his grip on her hand and she did not resist.
She was starting to lose herself to his eyes, his voice, his touch, his very presence. Whether this was real or not, she wanted to hold onto them and never be without them again. “This place… will you be there?”
“If you want me to be.” He bowed his head slightly, a self-conscious smile breaking through. “I mean if you want me to be, I can be there… indefinitely. For as long as you need me.”
“I’ve always needed you,” she blurted out.
He raised his free hand to cup her face, his voice rough. “I feel the same way. That’s why I waited.”
“Promise me you’ll always be there.”
“I promise. Come with me?”
Commander Jane Shepard wasn’t afraid of anything, but here she was walking into the unknown. Looking into his eyes again, though, she knew she could trust him, that he’d never break a promise to her.
He was Kaidan Alenko, after all. And she’d never know what being without him felt like again.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Good.”