Work Text:
“I mean, let’s be honest Shepard, keeping fish alive isn’t your forte to begin with,” Garrus said, voice laced thick with his signature sarcasm. Shepard groaned and rolled her eyes, resting her chin on her hand and leaning away from him in mock annoyance. “They didn’t stand a chance in that sushi restaurant.” She suppressed a giggle with her hand and scowled at him, encouraging him on if anything. “After you're done killing all the Reapers, we’ll have to keep a fish tank around just to vent out all your frustration.” Shepard started genuinely laughing then. “Might run out of fish on the Citadel though, might have to keep it on Palaven.”
Her eyes slid over to meet his gaze. He didn’t shy away, but matched the intensity of her stare. He was serious. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble for stealing all the local fish. But it’s ok, I’ve got a pretty good sparring partner if I need to get rid of any stress.”
He rose a brow plate. “Figures, beat up on the Turian,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Who said anything about a Turian?” she teased.
“Oh?” he said, taking the bait. He leaned over and gripped her waist, pulling her closer to him as he fluttered his mandible against her cheek playfully.
It felt good. To just be. Even if just for a moment. To pretend they were normal. That they might get to live a normal life as a couple after this. That they can bicker about future fish tanks, and where they’ll live.
She turned her face into his neck and breathed. “So, Palaven huh?”
He shrugged, not removing his hand from her side. “We’ll see,” he said, kissing his mouth plates to the top of her head.
“Garrus?” a familiar, duel-toned voice called out.
Garrus stiffened, and Shepard moved herself back to her original position and got a glimpse of the Turian approaching them. The Turian had white plates and blue clan markings. The designs were different, but the color was the same royal blue as Garrus’. His hide was lighter, but he had the same jet-black skin around his eyes. And there was no mistaking that Vakarian swagger in his voice and the way he walked. Shepard’s eyes went wide with the revelation that she was meeting Garrus’ father for the first time.
“Dad?” Garrus said quietly, in shock. Then he jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor. “Dad!”
Castis was at his son’s side quickly, reaching out and embracing him awkwardly. Garrus’ arms were uncertain at first, but he returned the gesture in earnest. “Thank the Spirits you got out in time,” Garrus’ said with wavering vocals. “Where’s Sol?”
“Hospital, getting her leg re-set by a Turian specialist. She’s fine, should be on her feet in a day or so,” Castis assured him.
Castis turned to Shepard, and Garrus nearly jumped. “Ah, dad, this is Commander Shepard.”
“Commander,” Castis said in a professional tone. “It’s good to finally meet the woman who has had my son running across the galaxy.”
Garrus shook his fringe, if ever so slightly, in protest. But before he could so much as breathe, his father moved to shake Shepard’s hand, then covered both their hands with his intimately. “And helped prepare our homeworld for this war. Without you and Garrus, I don’t believe Palaven would be anything more than a patch of dirt right now. And,” he said with a little less professional vibrato, “Garrus speaks often of your honorable character.” He released her hand as she blushed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were Turian.”
Shepard chuckled, “I hear that quite often.”
“I’m sure,” Castis drawled, the same way his son often did, cocking his hip and head to the side. Not quite as flirtatiously as Garrus did, but cocky all the same.
Castis turned back to Garrus. “I hate to ask, but do you have any current information on Palaven that you can share?”
Garrus knew his father wasn’t asking for classified information, but at this point everything was classified. Garrus’ subharmonics said as much. Castis was about to withdraw, but his son pulled out his omni-tool. Castis rose a brow plate, but said nothing. He hunched over the screen, and Garrus gave him a few small updates on retreat strategy and his suggestion to put available resources into the final push.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” Castis said softly. Shepard knew, a full retreat wasn’t in the cards for Turians. Garrus would be criticized for that decision. But it might just be what saves his race. “It’s… It’s bad down there, Garrus.” Castis pulled up a few pictures on his omni-tool.
Shepard could see the distress on Garrus’ face as he hunched over his father’s omni-tool, his mandibles whirling slightly, his subharmonics wheezing quietly.
“Jane,” Shepard heard from behind her. She turned quickly to find her mother, Admiral Hannah Shepard behind her. They had been here to meet her after all, but Shepard had completely forgotten with the shock and slight panic of meeting Garrus’ father for the first time.
“Mom!” Shepard squeaked. She quickly saluted, but Hannah just rolled her eyes and pulled Jane in for a hug.
“Good to see you in one piece, Jane,” her mother said softly.
Garrus and Castis looked up from their omni-tools. Garrus' mandibles whirled with a new type of nervousness and Shepard couldn’t help but smile a bit. He stood up quickly, “Admiral,” he said with a nod.
But Hannah wasn’t looking at Garrus, she was looking at Castis.
“You!” she said breathlessly.
Castis took a step back, his mandibles twitching against his face. Garrus had never seen his father back down from anyone in his life. And it was rare to see Castis’ mandibles do anything without his consent, after years of practice keeping them pinned tightly to his face in a disapproving frown.
Hannah also took a step back. “It’s you,” she whispered.
“Do… you two know each other?” Shepard asked, clearly as confused as Garrus was.
She watched her mother’s face change quickly between emotions of fear, anger, and uncertainty. Anger, sure Shepard had seen that look plenty of times. Fear and uncertainty? Never.
“How do you know this Turian?” Hannah said tightly, keeping her voice dangerously low.
“Mom,” Shepard tried, pointing to Garrus, “This is Garrus Vakarian. I’ve told you about him.” Hannah didn’t even give Garrus a glance. “And this is his father.”
Hannah’s brow contorted in pain, her lips pressing into a flat line, as she turned her head to the side, closing her eyes shut. She took a sharp breath in. “I’ll text you, Jane,” she said as she spun on her heel and walked away quickly.
“Uh, Dad what’s going on?” Garrus said with uncertainty.
Castis brow plates were low and his mandibles were switching between being pinned to his face and flaring out and down. A pained look if Shepard had ever seen one. After a few seconds, “Dad”, Garrus pressed.
“It… it was war,” Castis said softly, so softly Shepard almost couldn’t make out what he had said.
“What about the war?” Garrus asked.
Shepard had a cold feeling run down her spine, right through her limbs and the top of her head. Like she was going to be sick. “The First Contact War?” she said, just as softly.
Castis nodded ever so slightly.
“Tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying,” she pleaded.
Garrus’ head swiveled between the two of them. “What am I missing here?”
“Tell me. You’re not saying. What I think you’re saying,” she repeated again, slowly and deliberately, her voice raising in volume.
Castis opened his eyes slowly and looked into Sheaprd’s. “I… wish I could,” he said sadly.
Taking several steps backwards, she looked at Castis with pure disgust.
“Hey,” Garrus reached a hand out to Shepard, but she recoiled instantly. Looking from Castis to Garrus, and then back to Castis. “Shepard,” Garrus said, his voice soft. He reached out for her again, his hand barely grazing her arm and she recoiled even more violently. He saw tears silently streak her cheeks, shaking her head violently to clear it.
She spun around and called out to her mother, running to catch up.
Garrus took a step forward, but his dad put a hand on his shoulder. Garrus spun to face him. “What the hell is going on?”
“Garrus,” Castis looked conflicted, lost. “It was war.” Garrus just looked at him, waiting for more. “There was a certain battle, a tough one. We barely made it out. But it was close quarters, hand to hand combat. The humans didn’t stand a chance,” Castis shook his head, looking down. “That woman, she was there. And so was her mate.” Castis took a shaky breath. “I took the kill shot. And it was messy. Brutal. It’s how I got this,” he said, pointing to a scar on his chest just above where Turian armor stopped behind their carapace. “It ended when I slashed his throat with my talons. The woman was the only survivor, but she stopped fighting back, fell to her mate and held him as he bled out. We were ordered not to take prisoners. I left her there instead of killing her.”
Garrus shook with disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. They had come so far together. Been through too much for this bullshit to be in their way now. It wasn’t fair. And Shepard’s father…
How would she see him now? How could she look at him and not see the son of the man who killed her father… the monster of a species that took away her childhood. How could he touch her with his hands, ghosting over her skin, and not see the talons that ripped through her father’s throat. He looked down at his talons, his hands were shaking.
“Son,” his father whispered.
Garrus was angry, but he wasn’t angry at his father. Garrus was fighting a war, and he knew what kind of special hell that was. And Garrus also knew better than most, that it was easy to lay blame and pretend ‘you would never’, until it’s your world, your family that’s threatened. He knew very well, as much as he hated it, that if the First Contact War happened in his lifetime, he would’ve signed up for the cause just as quickly as the next Turian. Even if he was a bad one.
He looked up at Castis and put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. Castis seemed shocked. “War is hell,” Garrus whispered.
Castis nodded. “Pure hell.”
------------------------------------------------------------
Shepard had caught up to her mother just in time to catch an elevator. It went up six floors before Shepard slammed the emergency stop.
‘Spectre status recognized’, a VI voice rang out.
Hannah’s fists were clenched in anger, but her eyes spoke of nothing but an overwhelming sadness.
“He killed dad?” Shepard asked, brutally straight to the point. Just like her mother taught her.
Hannah nodded. “It was awful, Jane. It was a bad fight. We got pinned in a cave. Once things got in close range and it was down to hand to hand combat, they slaughtered us, as you can imagine. Your father and I were the only two left of our squad, and we had a Turian bastard pinned in a corner. Next thing I know, the Turian lashes out, and your father grips his throat, falls to his knees,” Hannah takes shaky, panicked breaths, trying to push down the overwhelming anxiety she was feeling. “I held him as he bled to death. The Turian just watched. Soon, others joined him, but they didn’t attack me. And then they just… left. Our dead, my life, wasn’t even worth their time.” She gripped the bar that lined the walls so hard her knuckles turned white. “I was pregnant. We had just found out. That was supposed to be my last mission.” Hannah shook her head, pressing a hand to her forehead. “He… was so excited for you, Jane.” Shepard felt tears on her cheeks. “He loved you, so much.”
Shepard nodded. “I know.” Before now, Shepard knew her father had died in the first contact war, but her mother would never share any details with her. She remembered that fateful conversation with Garrus when they first told each other about their families.
------------------------------------------------
“Well, that’s my family. You know about my dad,” Garrus said on the SR2, showing Shepard a picture of his family from ten years prior. “That’s my mom, and my little sister Solana.”
“Good looking bunch,” Shepard said with a smirk.
“Mom was military, but retired recently. Sol’s finished basic and is still military, but I’m not sure if she’ll stay. And you know dad was C-sec.”
“How did that work? Doesn’t your family live in Cipritine?”
Garrus shrugged. “It’s a little tough, but they make it work. Dad would work through weekends, and would get extended leaves. So he’d be home one week a month, and on the Citadel the other three. And mom’s tough. Every Turian family is a military family. We’re used to long stretches away from home, or without family members. So it wasn’t any different from that.”
Shepard nodded, it made sense.
“So what about you Shepard? Any family back on Earth?”
“Was a spacer kid, actually. I grew up military, too. Mom is an admiral in the Alliance.” She took an awkward breath. “My dad, he was military, too. Served with my mom. But uh, he… died. First Contact War.”
Garrus’ mandibles twitched, his subharmonics buzzing with awkward energy. “Oh,” he said lamely. “Sorry,” he muttered.
She shrugged, “I wasn’t born yet. You and I are military, we get that everyone has lost someone in war.”
Garrus held her gaze. “Some more than others.”
Shepard nodded, appreciating the sentiment.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why’d you let me join you on the SR1?”
She looked away thoughtfully. “I won’t pretend to be anything I’m not. I won’t pretend like I haven’t thought about my dad, or how he was killed. I won’t pretend like it didn’t make me angry as hell growing up. I also don’t feel that way anymore. Haven’t since I was a kid. It was a war. And a mistake. And it’s in the past. Before we were even born. There isn’t a single race lacking in assholes. But they aren’t lacking in good people either. I won’t be blinded by hate or prejudice. You’re a good man, so you made it on my team. Simple as that. To be honest, I didn’t even think about the fact that you were Turian. Just that you were a good shot, and you wanted to take that bastard Saren down just as badly as I did.”
Garrus believed her, and he was impressed. “So it never bothered you that I’m Turian?”
She chuckled. “It bothered me that your headshot count was higher than mine.” Garrus chuckled back. “But no. You didn't kill my dad. And I don’t see you as Turian, I see you as Garrus. Hot headed sniper. I had you pegged as a wild card but you’ve turned into a solid ace up my sleeve. Don’t get me wrong, I respect the fact that you’re Turian. I know there are differences, in culture, in language, in ways of thinking and doing things. But I could say that about a lot of my own species too.”
Garrus nodded, “Humans are a diverse bunch.” He appreciated what she had said more than he would ever tell her.
-------------------------------------------
And now how would she look at him? Would she be able to continue looking at him without prejudice now? What if the tables were turned? What if his mother had been killed by her mother? And viciously at that. How would he view her?
Garrus was deep in thought as he walked through the Presidium’s light, faux-rain. It was hard to say. His first gut instinct tells him he would love her. He would be shaken, but he had fallen too far for her now, his heart was in this too deep. He just hoped she would feel the same way.
Garrus entered Shepard’s apartment slowly. He had been staying there with her since they arrived for dry-dock. He couldn’t really remember the last time they hadn’t shared their quarters at this point. Probably since their date on the Presidium. The question was, where should he go now? Home to her? Or to his old apartment from his C-sec days.
-----------------------------------------
Shepard sat at her apartment, nursing a whiskey. What now? Castis killed her father. That wasn't something you could just overlook or forget. Say they got married or bonded, what, the two families just mingle? Her mother would have to sit next to her husband's killer and play nice? Shepard was supposed to replace her real father with a father-in-law who killed him? What would her father think after all.
"Ugh," Shepard groaned as she slid her hands down her face. Not like it mattered, they were all probably going to die soon anyway.
And suddenly, her brain automatically thought the same thing it always thought when things got shitty. 'I wish Garrus was here.'
It hit her like a tone of bricks. And everything else melted away. Garrus. Her best friend, through hell or high water, her ride or die. She pulled up her omni-tool and opened her messages with Garrus.
She typed: 'G. Come home. Ride or Die, remember?
Before she hit send, she heard the front door unlock, and a heavy footfalls enter the front entryway. She exhaled, and deleted the message. She could tell him in person.
---------------------------------------
“Shepard?” he called out gently. He heard a shuffling noise, and she slowly appeared from behind the fireplace. “Can I come in?” he asked softly.
She nodded, and he closed the door behind him. He walked up to her slowly, feeling more uncertain around her than he had the first time they’d joined before the Omega 4 relay. He reached out tentatively, but she stiffened, so he froze. Her brow was furrowed and she was staring at his talons.
Garrus felt his gut roll, his throat clenched. Spirits, no. Not this. Not after everything. It surprised both of them when a small keen escaped his chest, his mandibles began flailing in desperation.
She gave him an unreadable expression, and slowly pressed her palm to the side of his face, caressing his scarred mandible with her thumb. He exhaled with relief, but still felt so uncertain.
Her hand drifted down his shoulder and arm, until her fingers wrapped around one of his. She turned and pulled him gently, “C’mon Big Guy.” He exhaled again upon hearing her private nick-name for him. “The bar’s open.”
“Thank god,” he breathed.
She smiled a small smile when he used her human phrase. She passed him a Turian whisky, on the rocks, just the way he liked it. She had already made it before he came in. She was waiting for him?
She sat at the bar and he sat next to her. She propped up her elbow on the bar, drink in hand, and leaned sideways so her drink was reached out towards his. He leaned his own elbow till their glasses ‘clinked’ . He took a large gulp, and she did the same, before she leaned against him. He switched the glass to his other hand, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“I don’t know what to say, Shepard,” he said sadly.
“Nothing to say, G. No one knows better than us. War is hell.”
Spirits, did he love her. He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Pure hell.”