Work Text:
When Shepard read Kaidan’s message it felt almost like being spaced all over again. Her fists clenched, nails stabbing into her palms as she bit back a strangled sob under the glare of the message screen. She wanted to crumple right there in the CIC, cry herself into oblivion and maybe never even get up.
But she was Commander Shepard, she reminded herself bitterly, and she would be damned if she let her crew see her come so unraveled over something as trivial as an old romance.
Gathering her strength, she hastened towards the elevator, knees weak and heart sore. She maintained her sturdy composure until the doors skirted to a close, and then she threw her head back against the thick walls, accepting the sharp pain as she cursed at any gods or spirits who might hear her. She wondered if they were all laughing at her, finding amusement at the expense of a wounded old soldier.
When the doors opened on her cabin, Shepard fell immediately to the soft mattress, tossing her gaze to the small observation window above her. Catching her reflection in the clusters of stars and galaxies, she reached out to trace the constellations on the glass, and her thoughts were struck with a raw sense of wonder. What would it be like if Kaidan were here? How would he look, naked, under the blue glow of the fish tank, face framed by platoons of stars? She was sure that he would have especially liked the little observation window Cerberus had provided. He had always been one to find solace in the embrace of solar systems, and she too could find hers in the breadth of such a dreamer.
However, tonight the stars seemed so less bright, as they snarled and snaked away from her gliding fingers. She tightened her eyes and brought her hand to her face, teeth clenched and drunk with sorrow. With blind hands, she pat at the nightstand next to her, until her fingers came across her tablet. With slow, overdrawn movements, she brought the device to her face and flipped through her files until she crossed the culprit.
“When things settle down a little...maybe.”
“Going out for drinks with a doctor on the Citadel.”
“I guess I really don’t know who either of us is anymore.”
“Just take care.”
Each word burned itself into Shepard’s head, bold, italicized, and underlined.
“Just take care.”
Shepard knew that she could never place herself in Kaidan’s boots, she couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for him to see a ghost. But she could still swear that she would never turn her back on a friend--on someone she loved. She couldn’t understand how Kaidan would not feel the same. But maybe two years made more of a difference than she realized--than she wanted to believe. With all the fancy cybernetics, improved biotics, high-tech crew, and fantastic new ship, it was easy to forget that not everybody had got off so easily. It was strange to think that for having been dead for two years, she still got the better end than her old crew.
Then again, they didn’t all have to fight Collectors and save the galaxy (for the second time).
“Shepard?” EDI’s robotic voice cut through the churning sea in Shepard’s head, provoking the human to huff indignantly to herself.
“What is it?” she asked curtly. She didn’t want to do anything--she didn’t want to be torn away from the silent torture she was inflicting on herself as she scanned Kaidan’s message over and over again. The universe be damned just this once. Tonight she needed to feel like a normal human, at least for a moment.
“Garrus Vakarian is outside. He wishes to speak to you Commander.”
Eyes flicking towards the door, Shepard silently cursed the turian. She knew as soon as the squad piled into the shuttle after the mission and she caught a glimpse of him studying her, mandibles tight against his jaw, that he would eventually come to check on her. She had hoped her stubborn silence after the mission would clue him in to save the therapy session for another time, but it didn’t surprise her that the gods of the universe wouldn’t allow her to be so lucky.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his concern or his loyalty. Hell, she couldn’t be more pleased that he backed her up with Kaidan, pointing out to the soldier that he was far too focused on Cerberus and not on the real threat. Garrus was always there for her, even when she could clearly read his opinion with her decisions on his face, he would never once second guess her actions--would never doubt her. He was a renegade at heart, Shepard knew, but the commander was just kept a little closer to the core. And maybe that was why she so greatly wished for him to just go away tonight. Garrus was everything that she had hoped Kaidan to be, and damned if that didn’t confuse her every now and again.
Knowing the turian would likely not take no for an answer, she closed her datapad, wiped away her tears on her knuckles and quietly commanded, “Let him in.”
Garrus strode through the door with a cautious air, taking in the casually clothed Commander crumpled on the bed. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the droop of her shoulders, or the burnt out fire behind her damp green eyes.
“Shepard,” he breathed, and by the tone of his subharmonics, she could tell that he definitely had.
“What can I do for you Garrus,” she whipped out, feigning a small smile as she scooted to perch on the edge of her bed.
“I wanted to check on you,” the turian replied, quick to ignore her forced obliviousness as he zoned in on his purpose. Shepard could at least appreciate that her scarred friend was never one to beat around the bush. “Horizon was...rough. I know it must’ve been hard.”
Shepard shrugged casually, waving her hand in dismissal. Her heart was struck with a stabbing pain at the mere word “Horizon”, and as much as she cared for her alien friend, she had also never wanted to be as far away from him.
Still unwavering, Garrus sat down next to her, stubbornly gesturing towards her blank datapad. “Kelly told me that you got a message that looked to have upset you...it was from Kaidan wasn’t it?”
As soon as he said his name, everything came to a crashing halt. Shepard tightened as she looked into the turian’s blue eyes and the question rolled off his tongue so easily. She couldn’t even bother to lock everything away in his presence. Throwing her palm to her forehead, it all unraveled, the thread of her serious commander composure snapping away and dissipating into the stars above them.
“I just don’t understand Garrus,” she choked, finally allowing the liquid welts in her eyes to break through her barriers and pool down her cheeks. “How could he treat me like I was some villain?, He’s been with me since the beginning--since Eden Prime. All of this shit started with him and he just tosses me aside like that? Not even a hesitation.”
Shepard didn’t wait for Garrus to respond before she threw herself back, shattering the remaining pieces of herself onto the mattress, leaving the turian not quite sure how he would be able to piece her together again.
There was a long moment of silence between the two, occasionally interjected by Shepard’s soft sniffling and sharp intakes of breath as she cut out sobs against her arms. Garrus stumbled in his head over trying to figure out what to say to her. Or even if there was anything that he could.
It hit him then, and with a forward courage Garrus hadn’t even realized had surfaced, he finally spoke, subharmonics dipping into angered hums. “Kaidan is selfish.”
The Commander stilled for a moment, head still pressed tightly to her forearms to mask the tears. She patiently tensed, curious and pining for what Garrus had to say, for what he even meant.
“All of this...Horizon...Kaidan didn’t care about Cerberus. You could’ve told him anything, and he would’ve found a way to be upset about it.” Garrus paced his words, keeping his anger towards the human soldier in check as he continued, talons tensing against his armor. “He was hurt--jealous. He thought that you should have found him as soon as you...woke up. He wanted to be the only thing you cared about, and the realization that you were alive and yet not actively scouring the earth for him tore apart every senselessly egotistical bone in his body. He was hurt, and in turn he turned his anger on you. It was a selfish action, childish and thoughtless...and you deserve so much more than that Shepard.”
You deserve the universe, he thought, breath hitching as he took in her defeated form, red hair wild around her head, and freckled skin painted blue by the glow of her fish tank. He pleaded to the Spirits to show him any way that he could give it to her.
In turn, they guided his gaze to her datapad, and he reached for it, silently taking it close to him. When he turned the screen back on, the message displayed cleanly before him, the word “Kaidan” was crisp and clear in the sender’s box. Without interest in what the human had to say for himself, Garrus unhesitantly drug the message to the little x at the corner of the screen. He patiently watched as the loading circles worked, seeming to move so sluggishly and tired in his waiting. After what felt like days, the loading halted, and a brief electronic voice sounded: “File deleted successfully.”
Shepard didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure she could trust her voice to deliver the right words, in the right ways. Instead she wordlessly extended her hand towards Garrus, entwining her fingers with his talons as she cried silently.
She prayed to all of the mocking gods and spirits to let Garrus stay with her for awhile, silent and content just to be here for her. And for once, they listened, and the turian stayed by her side until they had both fallen asleep, hands still clasped together.
Small mercies.