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Footsteps came, walked past him and were gone. Their echo lingered, mixing with the next pair of boots walking by, or rushing, sometimes limping. Footsteps, echos, voices and groans, melting into a grotesque symphony of a war that was over, but they weren’t done with.
Garrus stared at his own boots. They were dirty with dust, the dark spots here and there - were they material or dried blood? He should have switched them for something comfortable, something clean that didn’t scream, “hey, I’m just back from the battlefield, after wading through charred and butchered corpses.”.
Maybe it was good he didn’t. It was enough of a miracle that the Huerta Memorial hadn’t been destroyed, expecting it to be in its usual clean and sterile state was absurd. The floor around his feet was as dull as his boots, from footprints and hardly breathing bodies carried and dragged down the corridor. If the doctors and nurses could pile up the injured and dying to the ceiling they would do so. They were running out of space faster than of supplies, and surgeons yelling at everyone who tried to rob them of their rooms and equipment didn’t help to restore the past sense of peace the hospital once stood for.
It was hard to believe that people could find help here, but they did. In the context of the universe, the reaper invasion had been just another war, as so many before and many to come, and always, people healed, and doctors cured.
Maybe more could be cured if they gave free some additional space. It existed, behind the door to his right. A whole room, for one single person who would have hated the thought of others dying because she was treated differently.
Commander Shepard, an icon that had become a symbol, and finally, a legend, within a quarter of a human’s lifetime. The one woman who had become a that , and who had wanted nothing more than to return to a who, but knew well she hadn’t been needed as a person.
This was her chance, the third time she escaped Grim Reaper after Akuze and the collectors, and again, she was treated as anything but a person.
Garrus mandibles twitched in bitter amusement. Grim Reaper, fancy that some human once came up with this name for death and destruction, if this guy had had a sense of humor he was probably laughing “gottcha!” from his grave.
He sighed, guilty and relieved that stupid thoughts like this could amuse him in times like these, saving the fragile rest of his sanity. Once, he wanted to be a hero, then he became a hero, only to learn that sometimes, being a hero meant that the world had to crumble apart first.
Was it really worth it? Titles, triumphs, medals. Felt good at first, but what do they mean to the bodies of those who died? He snorted. He remembered Javik saying something similar once, and it had sounded so profound and dramatic it was funny to him. That was before his mind woke up from the trance that guarded him against the truth that shit really was going down this time.
And yet, there was the tiny spark of a happy end, the spark that had remained from his overflowing happiness when they had found her. Breathing.
She was alive.
She would be okay.
Would she?
Would they keep her shut off from the rest of the hospital under constant supervision if she really was going to be okay?
He raised the cup he was holding to his mouth but found it empty. Right. He had drunk the last sip more than an hour ago when the coffee was still hot.
“Garrus? What are you doing here?”
Liara’s voice, as calm and caring as always, soothing and aggravating at the same time.
“Hey, Liara. I thought you were on your way to Thessia?” He didn’t look up to her, twirling the empty cup between his fingers. She sighed as she sat down on the chair next to him.
“We all have to rebuild, not only the asari. There’s so much to do here, and I couldn’t just leave yet. You understand, don’t you? After all, you are not on Palaven either.” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.
“Unless all that’s left of Palaven fits into this damn corridor, no, I’m not.” He didn’t want to be rude to her, but he was tired, and with neither sleep nor coffee it was becoming difficult to see the world in a different color than black. Black with red dots. Burnt Earth stained with human blood, a dark galaxy torn apart by glowing red reaper-lasers. Spirits, at which point had he gotten so dark himself? Couldn’t he wait with that until the next war or the next…death?
“Garrus.” She wasn’t taken aback by his rudeness, if anything, her voice had become softer than before, an almost motherly tone. “Please walk with me a bit. I can’t talk to you when you’re sitting here hunched over, like a man with no hope.”
“Sure, why not.” He rose with her. “I need more coffee anyway. And a trip to the bathroom.”
After a short stop at the restroom facilities, they were walking through the hospital's lobby. They had to be careful not to stand in the way of the medical stuff, and the groans and the crying didn’t make it a pleasant stroll. Only for a few seconds, they stood in front of the large panorama window.
He searched for something comforting and found nothing. Wards and buildings crumbled, people of all council races were rushing from one side to the other, between them, even a few vorcha. An uncoordinated mess of individuals who had no idea what to do even if they found a place where to start. Pathetic.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Liara cut into his thoughts. “Nobody gives up, despite all this destruction. Everyone tries, even if they don’t know where to start, they rather try than do nothing.”
“Guess that’s one way to see it.” How could somebody who was so many years ahead of him be so naive?
“It’s the only way, Garrus. Let’s move on, I fear we are in the way if we remain here.” She put her hand on his back and steered him out of the way of two nurses who were hurrying past them. He glanced at their faces. A human, and a turian, both looking exhausted, their uniforms disheveled, their eyes hard with resolve. Should he praise them or pity them?
In one small corner, a salarian had built up a small table. Garrus remembered him, it was the same guy from earlier, and from the four times he was here yesterday. Without taking up more space than he could help it, the salarian had put up three coffee makers, and piled up a wild variety of cups and mugs around him that it was a miracle the stacks didn’t collapse.
Garrus and Liara had to wait in line for more than twenty minutes, but finally, he had his coffee. Liara declined the offer.
“How long have you been sitting in front of her door, Garrus?” she asked while they circled the lobby again.
“A while.” He sipped on his coffee, burning his mouth.
“Which is how long, if converted into hours, or days? You’ve been in exactly the same spot two days ago when I came to visit her,” she said without a hint of reproach, only curiosity, her undying want to understand.
“I swear I don’t have a clue. Without taking bathroom, shower and coffee hunt into account - three days, four? Hey, if you worry that I occupied a chair for another patient, I promise you I’d have stood up at once to make room for the hurt, pregnant, and elderly.” His snark didn’t save him from his own guilt, and it didn’t give him the satisfaction of irritating Liara. There was this little knowing smile in her face, sadness, and pity for his pathetic self. Right. Just what he needed to feel worse than before. At some point on his path through life, the Spirits seemed to have decided that he’d be the one to prove that there was always a new low.
“Go inside, she’s waiting for you.”
They had returned to the cursed door. He glanced at it, shrugged, and sat down on his chair. Nobody had claimed it while he was away, so it was his until the next time he needed more coffee.
“She isn’t. If she’s waiting for anything it’s to wake up from this nightmare.” And that would be the only way for him to wake up from this nightmare as well.
“Garrus, if there’s anyone from all of us she wants to have by her side, then it’s you.” Sweet, stubborn Liara, gentle and soothing as her voice was, she never gave up easily. Her willpower matched that of a clan of krogan battle masters.
“How do you know?” His fingers clenched around the cup. How convenient it would be if she had any idea what she was talking about. His hands were shaking, and the steaming coffee threatened to spill over the rim.
“How is it you don’t know?” she asked back softly, as though she was comforting a scared child.
“Maybe because she can’t tell me? Or because she can’t see me? She can’t hear my voice, she can’t even feel if I hold her hand or touch her face?” He shuddered. Her skin had been so cold, but that hadn’t bothered him, her vitals were all right. Nothing about her had moved, not a single muscle twitched when he had caressed her cheek. Shepard wasn’t dead, but she was like a lifeless doll, unable to like or dislike as she was unable to sense anything.
“So you rather leave her alone to stay here, because she can’t give you a response?”
“No, dammit!” The cup cracked between his fingers. Hot liquid ran over his hands, broken shards cut him. He jumped up, dropping the broken mess. Liara jumped out of his way, and he began to pace up and down in front of the door.
“What if she doesn’t want me there? What if she needs to be alone, what if she’s scared? Or angry? I left her alone. I should have been with her when she needed me the most, and I wasn’t. Spirits know how long it will take until they restore her senses! And then she realizes that the one person who failed her has been sitting by her side all the time!”
Several heads were turning at him as he shouted at Liara, the door, at himself. Damn, it felt good to let the frustration burst out of him, even if it left raw pain in its wake.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, his voice suddenly low and calm, almost relaxed. He wiped his hands clean on his shirt, staining it with blood and coffee, and sat down again. “I’m not running away. I’ll be by her side as long as she wants me to. Once she can tell me.”
“I understand. You don’t want to force yourself on her if you aren’t sure whether she welcomes you or not.” Liara crouched down in front of him. Grabbing him by his mandibles, she glared into his eyes. “You’re a fool, Garrus Vakarian. Have a little trust in her love for you!” She let go of him and stood up again. “She can’t always make the first step because you have to test the water first. Your place isn’t here, it’s by her side.”
“How can you be so sure…”
“I’m sure of it, the why doesn’t matter. I’d go inside if I wasn’t, and leave you here in company of your self-pity.” She crossed her arms, her pretty face dark as she frowned.
“Liara…” It hadn’t escaped him that she and Shepard had been close on their first adventure, their hunt after Saren. How close he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. Liara had never mentioned anything towards him, and always treated him with warm, supportive friendship, but inside, Garrus was aware that seeing him with Shepard had hurt her.
“Well, Dr. T’Soni and the Archangel. The last two people I expected to find outside the Commander’s room.”
Neither of them had heard or seen Miranda approach them until she spoke. Garrus welcomed the excuse to end the debate with Liara. He had heard her words, he saw the sense in them. He preferred to test the waters, with a gesture that could have been that of a friend, a remark he could have disguised as a joke among buddies, waiting for Shepard’s reaction. There was nothing wrong with respecting her boundaries, was it? They had been lovers, but that wasn’t a reason to take her wanting him for granted, nor was that she had said she loved him. That was all, he was respectful towards Shepard, and being her friend or lover wasn’t an excuse to disrespect her all of a sudden.
He was right, Liara, as well-meaning as she was, was wrong. He wasn’t just a coward, he had principles, and now more than any time Shepard deserved…somebody by her side who wasn’t the coward that he was.
“Miranda Lawson, it has been a while. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” Liara and Miranda shook hands, exchanging a polite smile. They valued each other's achievements and knowledge, they would kill for each other, but even facing the reapers hadn’t turned them into close friends.
“Miranda.” Garrus greeted her with a nod. She was indeed doing well, better than him. She seemed to have a never-ending supply of clean suits, and her hair was falling in long waves over her shoulders, flattering her smooth features with well-calculated casualness. No dust or blood, no, Sir, not on Miranda Lawson. He considered to hold it against her that she took the time to look her best when Shepard was lying only one door away, alive and cut off from the worlds she had saved. He realized he was silly and only looking for an excuse that justified neglecting himself as noble.
“I thought you were with Oriana and her family,” Liara said, and a guilty smile hushed over Miranda’s face.
“We’re supposed to be at so many places these days, aren’t we, Dr. T’Soni? I assured myself that my sister and her family are safe and don’t lack anything. I’d have loved to stay with them a little longer, but Commander Shepards is it who needs me the most.” There was this confident smile that belonged to Miranda like the Hierarchy to Palaven, and both ruled out any opposition.
“And you think you can do exactly what for her? Kissing her awake?” Garrus tried to laugh at his forced joke, but only managed a grunt.
“Tempting, but I’ve heard stories about what jealous turians are capable of, so I leave that to you.” Damn her for outsmarting him, and spicing it up with a genuine chuckle.
“You’re in a good mood, Miranda. I’m sure there’s a reason?” Liara’s face brightened, hope sparking from her big eyes.
“Of course there is. Do I have to remind you I was in charge of the Lazarus Project? I rebuilt her from a piece of charcoal once. Restoring a few basic functions of an otherwise living, mostly intact body is hardly a challenge after that. Excuse my bluntness.” She smiled at Garrus who glared at her, not at all amused by her choice of words.
“Don’t you think if it was so easy they’d have done it already?” He didn’t waste any more effort to hide his grumpy mood. “This is one of the best clinics in the galaxy, they aren’t idiots.”
Unfazed by his snark, Miranda switched on the datapad she had brought with her.
“Torn ear drums. Blinded. Spine severed at more than one point, paralyzed from the neck. Loss of sense of smell and taste likely, not confirmed yet.” She scrolled down the list, tapping at the words she was reading out aloud. “I’m sure the staff could handle this, under normal circumstances. But the circumstances aren’t normal, in case you haven’t realized. Also, Commander Shepard is hardly a normal human being. Large parts of her body were replaced with cybernetics that haven’t hit the market yet. That’s why I’m here, and I’m determined to take over.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm and care, Miranda.” The aura of hope around Liara was growing, but she fought against it, refusing to rejoice too soon. Finally, the first sign of common sense Garrus sensed in her. Liara’s naive optimism had a tendency of being contagious, and he refused to object himself to disappointment.
“But as you said,” Liara continued, “the circumstances can hardly be called normal. There aren’t enough nurses and doctors as it is, the equipment is limited. To conduct a second Lazarus we’d need funding, and we cannot hope for much charity for the benefit of one person. Even if it’s Commander Shepard.” She ended with a sad whisper.
“Money isn’t the problem.” Miranda waved Liara’s concerns aside. “Cerberus paid me well during all the years I was working for them. When I was after my father I had enough time to get my hand at a part of his fortune. My plan was to leave it all to Oriana once I died, but I’m still here. Thanks to Shepard, I have to admit. There will be enough for my sister and her family left once I’m done.”
Great, the next delusional person who made it sound so easy. Did they listen to themselves? What were they thinking? The Lazarus Project was impossible. Shepard defeating the reapers was impossible. Why were they so optimistic that three was a charm and they could pull off the impossible again?
Why was he the only one who was scared out of his wits?
“There’s only one remaining problem I need to solve. If I only knew someone who could help me with it.” Frowning, Miranda looked at her datapad, glaring the numbers into submission.
“What is it?” Liara took the obvious bait, and Garrus shook his head. What a time to play coy! Miranda was Miranda, and one reaper invasion wasn’t enough to change that.
“With half the galaxy in shambles, I wasn’t able to retrieve all my old sources and contacts. There’s a good chance they’ve been wiped out. As you said, this clinic can’t provide me with the parts and tools I need. I’m sure the Shadow Broker could be of valuable assistance, but unfortunately, I have yet to find a way to him. Or her.”
She raised her hand when Liara opened her mouth, cutting her off before she could say anything.
“But now I have to talk with the doctors in charge of her and convince them that I’m now giving instructions. And I’ll have to see Shepard myself once that’s out of the way. After that, I should know what exactly I need.”
“Understood.” Liara nodded, her voice firm, her back straightened. “If you excuse me, Miranda, Garrus. I…think I have to be somewhere. I really have to tell Glyph to update my electronic schedule. I don’t think you need me to wish you luck, Miranda, so I’ll just thank you.” She grabbed Miranda’s hand, squeezing it. “And you!” She pointed at Garrus. “You go and see her!”
With that, she marched down the corridor, her air of resolution pushing patients and objects alike out of her way.
“I assume her last remark has something to do with the conversation I interrupted.” Dry as a fish on fire. Indifferent she might sound, she was well aware her words were drilling into a metaphorical wound. She wasn’t the type to waste time on a casual question.
“With all due respect, Miranda, that’s private.” He sighed, stretching his legs and crossing his arms. “So you two have found a task in all this mess. Smart. Maybe I should return to Palaven, or to one of the colonies. I could call my father, should ask if he needs me.”
“With all due respect, if Archangel thought that was where he’s supposed to be, he wouldn’t sit in a hospital corridor, moping around.”
“I’m not moping! I’m just-”
“I’m not taking Liara’s place and debate with you. It’s your decision, but if you asked me, I’d say my job is it to make sure Shepard’s back to normal as soon as possible, while it’s Liara’s job to use her connections to help me. And your job is, excuse my French, is to get your ass in motion and stay by Shepard’s side every minute you can spare.” She said it all with a smile and her typical unruffled composure, but with unyielding firmness.
“You all think you’re so smart with your optimism,” he said flatly, lost for what else to throw back at her.
“Because we are smart. We know the galaxy isn’t dying, it’s regrowing. It’s time to lift up your chin and face the new challenges ahead. If you need more pep talk, please call Liara, I have a job to do.” As abruptly as she had shown up she dashed away, her heels clicking on the floor. She had spotted one of the doctors and hurried to catch up with him.
Garrus mumbled a “bye”, and his gaze returned to the floor.
It was still dirty, so were his boots. Cold coffee added to the layer of blood and dirt, shards of the broken mug were crunching under his soles.
Dying, regrowing, black and white, and what was with the grey? If things were so easy, why were there still people running up and down the corridor, why were they new groaning and crying voices taking the spots of those who had died away during the last days?
Changes needed time, and meanwhile, small worlds were falling apart for those who died, for those who had to mourn the dead.
He was alive, so was Shepard, that was so much more he could ever have asked for after what they had faced. It was insane to believe that there was a happy end in making behind the door.
It ’s going to take more than the reapers to come between this cross-species liaison.
His own words. And he was right, it wasn’t the reapers between them, only a damn door he had locked himself, with doubts and self-pity because he didn’t trust the woman he loved to love him back. When she had said it first, when she had taken first step after the first step when he was still testing waters.
“Now excuse me, I have a job to do.”
Garrus stood up and took a deep breath. The door slid open, revealing the pale, lonely woman who was sleeping inside. Leaving the selfish coward back in the corridor, he walked up to the only chair standing next to her bed.
“Morning, Shepard. Too bad you didn’t hear Joker the other day.” Clumsy, but it was a start. He sat down.
“I swear one day, he’ll break a rib from laughing at his own jokes. Needless to say, he wasn’t even that funny.” He took her limp, small hand into his, resuming his place where he was needed the most.