#who my favourite of the two was(its fero) but i think now its kind of fine so i cant make that joke anymore but i still did wanna mention it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veorlian · 4 years

Text

Idolatry - Renewal

Pairing: Garrus Vakarian/Female Shepard

Rating: T for swearing and stabbing.

Summary: Citadel DLC, Part 2/3. Conclusion to the clone fight, hanging out with friends, and date night.

ao3 link

Excerpt:

“Legion, you know I’ve never played a video game before,” she said wryly. She was sitting on one of her too-large couches as Legion fiddled with the television.

“Acknowledged. Based on previous experience, the adequate response to this statement is ‘git gud, scrub,’ although I have been unable to ascertain its exact meaning,” Legion replied.

It was quiet in the cargo bay. Too damn quiet. Shepard paused just outside of the elevator door, listening. Since she’d gotten the cybernetic upgrades, she’d grown accustomed to dampening her senses. The first few days after her resurrection it had been almost impossible to move without being bombarded with sounds, smells, sights that sent her to her reeling. Now, she tuned back in. She closed her eyes, and she listened.

It was never entirely silent on a ship. The gentle, ever-present hum of the Normandy was a high-pitched whine, now that EDI wasn’t in control. It made Shepard wince. She could hear Garrus’ breathing, and her own uneven heartbeat.

And she could hear faint breathing, up and to the left. Her lips curled in a humourless smile.

“You might as well give up,” Shepard called. “You’ve lost.”

“I haven’t lost anything.” The clone’s voice echoed off the walls, impossible to pinpoint. But Shepard could hear her footsteps now, circling around. Shepard motioned for Garrus and EDI to stay where they were, and she slowly moved into the room.

“And yet here you are, hiding from me like a coward. What’s the matter, little girl, are you scared? You should be. You should be terrified.” The footsteps grew stronger, closer together, nearer.

The razor-sharp edge of the clone’s omni-tool came whistling towards Shepard’s face, but Shepard easily countered it with her own. The sound of the blades clashing echoed across the room.

“You may look like me,” Shepard breathed, “but I’ve forgotten more ways to kill than you’ll ever learn.”

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” the clone spat. The fluorescent orange of the omni-blades reflected onto the clone’s face. It was a damn shame for her, really, that Shepard knew all of her own tells.

“I’m sure you’re used to disappointment by now,” Shepard said softly, and she shoved the clone away, hard. The next second she was invisible, and booking it towards EDI and Garrus at the back of the room. She ducked into cover behind the requisitions terminal. The cargo bay, Shepard realized belatedly, was a shit place to have a fight. From there, it was impossible to get a good fix on any of the oncoming enemies. Apparently they had no trouble hitting her though; a grenade arced through the air and exploded next to her, sending flames licking up her armour.

“Shit,” she hissed. She tucked into a combat roll away from the fire. She rose to her feet and a fist connected with her bruised ribs. Shepard stumbled back as her clone materialized in front of her. Damn it, she was supposed to be a long-range fighter, what the hell was up with all the melee? Shepard feinted to the left before delivering a swift upper-cut to her clone’s jaw.

She should’ve delivered a swift upper-cut, but the clone wasn’t there anymore. Shepard felt an arm around her neck, choking her. Fuck that.

Shepard got a grip on her clone’s arms and then brought her torso down, sending the clone slamming into the ground. Shepard swung her Widow around and got the clone in the chest, point-blank. The clone faded into invisibility again and was gone. Damn it.

A handful of mercs raced away from the fight, climbing into the Kodiak shuttle. The hatch to the cargo bay opened and they sped away. In their haste, they left the door open. The wind whipped through Shepard’s hair, sending it flying into her face. She impatiently pushed it away.

“Just give up, will you? You’re past your best-before date. I’m the new and improved version, without the scarring and annoying moral code,” the clone shouted. Shepard was having a bit of an out of body experience. It’s one thing to have doubts about yourself, it’s an entirely different experience to hear them repeated back to you in your own damn voice.

“Was that supposed to be an insult? I earned these scars on Feros, and Noveria, and Ilos, and Thessia, and Rannoch! You got yours out of a petri dish.” Her voice rang clear through the cargo bay. What was it she’d said to Zaeed? You’re just a collection of scars held together by spite. Maybe they had that in common.

“You’re just a mediocre soldier with a lucky streak.”

“Then what does it say about you that I’m kicking your ass?” Shepard shouted back. She finally caught her clone in her sights, and got her in the leg with a shot from the Widow. Her clone stumbled, and Shepard raced forward, tackling her to the ground. They rolled together down the open ramp until they came to rest almost at the bottom. Shepard’s clone reared up, her fist hurtling towards Shepard’s face. The ship rocked violently, sending them flying. They both ended up holding onto the edge of the cargo bay door, nothing but a steep drop beneath them.

“Why you and not me? What makes you so damn special?” Shepard felt a small twinge of guilt at the pain in her clone’s voice.

“Shepard, hold on! We’ve got you!” Garrus yelled. He and EDI hurried down the ramp and hauled her back to safety. She looked down to her clone. There’s always a choice, Commander Shepard, and it matters that you choose to help.

“Take my hand,” Shepard said. She saw her clone glance up the walkway. Looking for Brooks, maybe. Whatever she saw made her face fall.

“And then what?” she snapped.

“And then you live. Show me what you’re made of, Shepard,” Shepard said. Not a sentence she’d ever expected to say, but apparently it was just that kind of day.

Her clone looked up at her sharply.

“You’ll regret this,” she said. “It’ll come back to bite you in the ass.”

“I regret a lot of things. Now take my damn hand.”

And she did.

They caught Brooks not long after. Cortez, who had apparently been engaged in some fancy flying to keep the ship from leaving, led her forward in handcuffs.

“Caught this one trying to leave,” he said. “Alliance is going to lock her up tight.”

“Shepard,” Brooks purred, “I’m sure we can put all this unpleasantness behind us.”

“I’m not in a particularly forgiving mood,” Shepard replied. Or General Shepard? We’ll deal with her. Her hands balled up into fists.

“But wasn’t it fun to have someone running around, being in awe of you? Admit it, you’re going to miss me.” Shepard could hear the gentle tap of Brooks' hands on her restraints. She leaned down, until she was level with Brooks’ eyes.

“You’re going to go along quietly with the Alliance, and you’re going to stay the hell away from me and the people I care about,” Shepard said, her voice forged in iron and steel

“Aww, is the great Commander Shepard pleading for her life?”

“I’m pleading for yours.” It was barely above a murmur. The tapping stopped.

“Very well,” Brooks said at last. “Till we meet again, Commander.”

“Rot in hell, Staff Analyst Maya Brooks,” Shepard suggested.

“Hey, maybe now you can actually have some shore leave,” Garrus said wryly as they exited the ship. Shepard snorted.

“I doubt it, but I suppose stranger things have happened,” she said.

“You can goddamn say that again,” Joker said fervently. Shepard gently clapped him on the shoulder.

“C’mon Joker, it could’ve been worse,” she said.

“How? How could it have been worse?”

“There could have been Collectors.”

“Hey, when the “Best Commanding Officer Awards” come up, don’t expect a nomination from me.”

“Noted. Can I interest you in some sushi?” The resentful silence was answer enough, and Shepard grinned wryly. As punishment, Joker refused to let her drive. He dropped her off at her apartment, but not before insisting that she needed to throw some kind of party.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“What was that? Couldn't hear you!” He revved the engine loudly to drown out her protests.

“Damn it, Joker!”

“And you owe me dinner! No knives this time!”

“No promises!” she shouted as he drove away.

Shepard didn’t do vacations. Fourteen years with the Alliance and she’d been on shore leave a handful of times, each more catastrophic than the last. The last time had been a few months before she’d died. She’d started two bar fights and had to be put on unofficial lockdown for a few days. The time before that they'd caught her sneaking back onto the ship. To be honest, having her evil clone try and steal the Normandy was just the natural progression of the Shepard Hates Vacations conundrum.

Still, it wasn’t every day that almost every person you’d ever cared about was kicking around the same place that you were. The Normandy was in drydock for another few days, and so Shepard made the most of it.

“Legion, you know I’ve never played a video game before,” she said wryly. She was sitting on one of her too-large couches as Legion fiddled with the television.

“Acknowledged. Based on previous experience, the adequate response to this statement is ‘git gud, scrub,’ although I have been unable to ascertain its exact meaning,” Legion replied.

“Uh huh. Got it. So then what are we playing?”

“Vega-Lieutenant suggests that you would enjoy playing Blasto: Hero of the Citadel.”

“Vega’s an asshole, don’t you listen to him.”

“Anatomically unlikely on both fronts.” The corners of Shepard’s mouth twitched up.

“What’s your favourite game, Legion?” she asked, trying a different tactic.

“I am banned from most games for suspected VI activity,” they explained.

“Tell you what, Tali and Kasumi are coming over to watch Fleet and Flotilla with me later, why don’t you join us?”

“Will there be popcorn?” they asked. Shepard’s brows wrinkled in confusion.

“You and Tali can't eat it…?”

“I understand it is integral to organic vid watching ceremonies.”

“Alright, we'll have popcorn.”

“Shepard, you know I can’t eat popcorn,” Tali complained. The four of them were settled on the largest of the couches. It stretched across half the room, but somehow everyone had ended up almost piled up on top of Shepard. She found that she didn’t really mind.

“I got some dextro-based snacks for you, Tali,” Shepard reassured her.

“Shepard-Commander?” Legion had the copy of Fleet and Flotilla in their hands and they were carefully examining it, holding it up to the light.

“Yes Legion?”

“What purpose does a relationship between two species serve? They cannot procreate,” Legion said. Shepard shared a loaded look with Tali and Kasumi.

“It’s about the romance,” Tali explained. “Forbidden, star-crossed love.” The last few words were wistful, almost dreamy.

“I do not understand,” Legion said. Shepard patted them on the shoulder.

“How about we watch the movie, and you can ask any questions you have when it’s over, okay?”

“Acknowledged.” Shepard flicked on the TV and the beginning credits began to roll.

“Shepard-Commander--”

“Shhh!” Kasumi hushed them.

“After the movie, Legion,” Shepard said. Legion nodded reluctantly. Kasumi and Tali both snuggled in on either side of Shepard, their heads resting on her shoulders. Maybe, she thought, vacations weren’t all bad.

The next day dawned bright and sunny, thanks to the artificial light on the Citadel. Shepard had gently deposited Tali and Kasumi in the guest bedrooms (how big did one apartment need to be??) and Legion had spent the small hours of the morning playing video games on her TV. After breakfast, she cheerfully sent them on their way after inviting each of them to the party that Joker had insisted she throw.

She hummed cheerfully to herself as she got dressed for the day. It was a relief, really, to be pulling on her regular black cargo pants and hoodie. Nice clothes were all well and good, but nothing could beat a half-dozen pockets, each weighed down with knives and caltrops. There were another dozen people that she needed to see. So many people that cared about her. It made her feel disconcertingly warm and fuzzy.

Shepard's first stop was at the hospital. Blessedly, she didn’t need to stay inside for long. She picked up Thane and took him to the café on the Presidium to buy him brunch. She’d never done brunch before.

“How have you been?” she asked.

“As well as I can be, during these difficult times,” Thane said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the gardens. “But Mordin believes I will make a full recovery.”

“You’ve seen Mordin?” she asked, sipping at her coffee.

“Ah, I had assumed that you would have heard. The salarian councilor was extremely grateful for the part I played in his rescue.”

“You mean saving his life almost single-handedly?” Shepard asked wryly. Thane rewarded her with a smile warmer than the artificial sun.

“Indeed. He asked that Mordin create a cure for Kepral’s Syndrome. So here I am, better than I’ve felt in years,” he explained.

“That’s great!” Shepard said encouragingly.

“I may even be fit to help with the war effort,” he said, and his eyes flicked to her. Shepard’s face immediately fell into a frown.

“Not going to happen,” she said firmly.

“It is unfair for me to remain here when so many are dying.”

“How many last missions can one person have?” she asked. “There was the hit on Nassana Dantius, and then the Omega 4, and then saving the councilor, and then stopping my clone--”

“You have made your point,” he said wryly. “But it doesn’t seem to have stopped you before.” She pursed her lips and studied his face. He did look better, she had to admit.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“We could always use military advisors. Strictly non combat, you understand?” she said. He considered her for a moment, before eventually nodding.

“Very well, if you think that would be best,” he said.

“I’ll let Hackett know,” she replied. And then, “It’s good to see you, Thane.”

“And you, Shepard. But you are on vacation. Shall we talk of more cheerful things?”

“Please,” she said fervently, and he chuckled, without coughing once.

It still wasn’t easy, going down to the refugee docks, but Mordin had asked her to meet him there. He had assembled a new clinic, replacing much of the equipment they’d been using in the refugee docking bay. He was bustling around, issuing instructions.

“Good to see some things never change, Mordin,” Shepard said wryly.

“Former system inefficient. Had to fix it. Other people always get it wrong.”

“Want a hand?” She leaned against the wall casually.

“Equally inefficient. Healing not one of your skills. Would like to talk, though.” She smiled ruefully. He wasn’t wrong. Once upon a time, he might’ve told her that he was never wrong.

“You got it. Shall we?” She led the way to a few miraculously empty chairs amidst the hustle and bustle of the docks. His posture was as impeccable as always as he remained sitting up straight on the uncomfortable bench.

“What have you been up to?” she asked. “Aside from curing Kepral’s Syndrome.”

“Spoken to Thane? Yes, cure is complete. Recommend minimal physical activity for time being. Non-combat.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I clear him for combat.”

“Tactfully put,” he said. She grinned at him.

“So what else…?” she left the sentence hanging, waiting for him to continue.

“Some side-effects to genophage cure. Created an antidote, but salarian doctors still not trusted. Been here for past two weeks.” Two weeks, and he’d already rearranged the docks. Knowing Mordin, he’d done that on his first day here.

“And how’s Urdnot Bakara doing in her new role?” Shepard asked. At that, he did smile.

“Exceeds expectations. Stabilizing influence on Urdnot Wrex. I like her.”

“Me too,” Shepard said. “Didn’t you say something about retirement though?”

“Yes. Wanted to run tests on seashells. Beaches in short supply at present, due to Reaper presence. Had a question.”

“Only one?” she asked wryly.

“As statement suggests, yes,” he replied. Shepard snorted.

“Alright, shoot,” she said.

“Clinic here running smoothly. Talents could be better used elsewhere. Crucible project needs scientists?”

“They’d be happy to have you,” Shepard said immediately. Mordin smiled warmly. They chatted a bit more, before Mordin insisted that he needed to get back to work. Some things really didn’t change.

Later that evening, after she’d visited even more of her friends, Shepard finally had a moment alone. The events of the past few days caught up, slamming into her like a freight train. Her hands rested on the cool marble of the bathroom vanity as she studied herself intently in the mirror. Scars mapped every part of her face, lancing across her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, notching a mark in her right eyebrow. Undeniably hers, but unquestionably altered now.

She looked at herself in the mirror, but she saw someone else. It was disconcerting to realize that the DNA that ran through her body was the same as her clone’s. It was worse to realize that her clone had been so violent, so capricious. Was that who she was, deep down? Was that who she’d been meant to be?

Her long red hair tumbled around her face, limp and bedraggled from days without washing it. She held a piece between her fingers, feeling every strand. She’d always been hopelessly proud of her hair, and had let it grow impractically long. The only part of her that the world hadn’t mangled.

But as she looked at it, she saw her clone. It wasn’t hers anymore. The world had taken that from her, as it had taken so many things.

Or maybe it had given her something new. She went down to the kitchen and selected a pair of scissors, and then she returned to the bathroom mirror in her room. With steady hands, she cut her hair. As it fell away, her angular features stood out in sharp relief. The haircut wasn’t even by a long shot, but it was hers. ... Garrus didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. He’d been standing outside the door to the apartment building for ten minutes now, hemming and hawing about the best course of action. And if he didn’t figure it out soon, he was going to be late for their date.

There were a number of facts Garrus was sure of. One: he was in love with Shepard. Fairly obvious, he’d been in love with her for over a year now. Two: Shepard was in love with him. He still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around that one, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. Three: he had no idea what the fuck was going to happen when they went to that Cerberus base. He hoped with every fibre of his being that they’d make it out the other side alive and in one piece, but he didn’t know.

Which was why he was standing outside the entrance to Shepard’s building, the ring box held in a vice-like grip between his talons.

Don’t be a coward, Vakarian. If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late. He squared his shoulders, and marched into the building resolutely. The elevator ride up seemed to last for an eternity. He studied the ceiling tiles, the grey swirling pattern seeming to vanish into the distance. It took him a second to realize that the elevator wasn’t moving anymore. It took him another second to exit the elevator. Spirits only knew how he got to Shepard’s door. He knocked gently. If he was quiet enough, maybe she wouldn’t answer.

But she did. He scrambled to shove the box into one of the very few pockets that turian clothing allowed for.

“Hey,” she said softly. Her eyelashes were longer than usual, and there was a dark tint to her lips. She was wearing that damn suit again and his brain short-circuited. His mouth was suddenly too dry. Shit, he should say something.

“Hey.” Amazing job, Vakarian. What a way with words. She gave him a crooked half-smile.

“Come in?” she suggested. Relieved, he nodded and stepped through.

“Your, um,” he tried. He gestured vaguely to her face.

“My hair?” she asked.

“Yeah.” It barely fell past her ears now. Could humans just...do that? She rubbed at her neck self-consciously.

“It felt weird looking in the mirror and seeing her. So, I cut it. Maybe by the time it grows back it won’t feel as weird,” she explained. He nodded stiffly. Spirits, did he have to be so awkward right now? You’d think it’d be easier to propose to your best friend.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. She was closer now, cinnamon and coffee in the air. There was a slight crease to her forehead.

“I love you,” he said suddenly. A warm smile spread across her face.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” she said. “But you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did I do that bad a job cutting it?”

“No, no it’s not that,” he said hurriedly. “It’s...damn.”

“Now you’re making me worried, Garrus.” She pulled away. Shit.

“Dance with me?” he blurted. Her eyebrows shot up so high they reached her hairline.

“Am I having a stroke?” she asked incredulously. “Every third sentence you say is insulting my dancing.” He really didn’t have anything to say to that, so he raced over to the wall, keyed into her stereo system and started playing music, as well as dimming the lights. Tango music filled the apartment, and he held out a slightly shaking hand to her.

“Hell no,” she said.

“C’mon Shepard, do you trust me?” Spirits, did there really have to be pleading in his voice right now?

“Implicitly. I’m still not dancing with you.” Steeling himself to get elbowed in the guts, he grabbed her hand and tugged her close to him. She reluctantly let him lead her through a few beginning steps, but she stayed stiff as a board, completely unyielding.

“You’re going to pay for this later,” she muttered darkly.

“Promises, promises, Joan,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him. “Which reminds me, is that not your real name?” She scowled at him. Damn, but she was hot when she was pissed.

“Am I answering questions or am I dancing? I sure as hell can’t do both.” She blocked his leg as he tried to dip her down. He rallied magnificently, playing it off as intentional. He continued to lead her through the dance.

Slowly, she started to get the hang of it, growing more confident in her movements. He ventured a spin, and to his very great delight she spun away from him and came tumbling back, a small smile gracing her lips.

As a general rule, turian marriages were fairly perfunctory affairs. Not a lot of room for romance in the hierarchy. But he wanted this to be special. Those images of the romantic comedies he’d watched flashed through his head. She deserved something good.

He’d practiced the steps enough that he could do them in his sleep by this point. She didn’t need to know that though. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down if she found out he’d been practicing in the main battery until late into the sleep cycle. He dipped her low, both of them breathing heavily. Her gently waving short hair framed her face like a halo.

“It’s Jeanne. My name’s Jeanne,” she murmured, so soft he almost didn’t catch it. He gently set her back on her feet and then sunk to one knee.

“Marry me, Jeanne Shepard?” he asked. She inhaled sharply. ... Her head was spinning as they danced across the room. She begrudgingly had to admit that she was enjoying herself. Garrus didn’t need to know that though.

Time slowed almost to a standstill as he dipped her down, his hand snugly wrapped around her waist. His bright blue eyes were fixed on her, and she felt her face flush.

“It’s Jeanne. My name’s Jeanne,” she murmured. A name she’d left behind long ago, a name that only Marie knew. A part of her that the clone hadn’t been able to mimic. Maybe it was time to reclaim it, that concrete reminder of her time on Earth, of who she’d once been.

Her feet touched the floor once more, and Garrus let go of her. She was reaching back out for him as he got down on one knee in front of her. Had she stepped on his foot…?

“Marry me, Jeanne Shepard?” he asked.

Oh. Oh.

She froze, and then a small laugh bubbled out of her.

“Well, that’s a little harsh,” he muttered. Still laughing, she helped him up. She rested a hand on either side of his face.

“Is that why you were so awkward earlier?” she asked.

“Listen, it’s a yes or no question.” His voice was so exasperated, so nervous.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” she said. A second later her feet left the ground as he picked her up and spun her around, kissing her soundly. He set her down and she wound her arms around his neck. “You have terrible timing.”

“Title of our autobiography,” he replied.

“True enough,” she chuckled. It was so warm, here in his arms. A safe harbour amidst the storm.

“You really trampled all over my moment,” he griped. “I had the ring all ready and everything.”

“I hate to tell you this, Vakarian, but EDI already gave me a ring.” A victory ring she’d called it, with metal from every Council homeworld. Including Earth. Shepard had almost cried.

“Do you want it or not?”

“I never said I didn’t,” she said. He rolled his eyes, but he tugged out a small box from his pocket.

She was definitely going to cry now. There was a scattering of stained glass inset in the band.

“It's made of an indestructible metal, so it won't get damaged in combat,” he explained quickly. She tugged him towards her and kissed him until they were both breathless. Home. This was home, here with him. She could die happy now. She could live even happier.

“So when’s the ceremony?” she whispered against his mouth.

“Got any plans this evening?”

“Yeah, there’s the party.”

“Perfect.”

#i look back on this now and i wonder how bioware wrote a whole clone arc and not once did someone say stop hitting yourself #wasted opportunity #anyways legion should've been in the citadel dlc and i live by that #mass effect #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #shakarian #me3 #my writing #oc: joan shepard

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