If It Meant Living: Tales

Redemption

February, 2186:  Twelve Days after Destruction of Collector Base / Five Days after Destruction of Alpha Relay

Normandy SR-2, Nos Astra Docking Bay A-5, Illium:  Tasale System, Crescent Nebula

Shepard tossed the bottle of Turian liquor in the direction of the couch as the door to her quarters closed behind her.

Garrus reached up and caught it as it sailed overhead.  He kicked a foot up on the table, opening the bottle as Shepard reached into the cabinet against the wall and pulled out a bottle of pure clear liquid.

His eyes narrowed slightly.  “That’s not one of your usual drinks.”

“Nope.  This, my friend, is vodka.”  She cracked open the cap then grabbed a tumbler.

Garrus shrugged mildly.  “Hmm.  What’s it go with?”

“Ice.”  She grabbed a handful of cubes, dropping them into the tumbler then drowning them with the clear liquor.   She plopped down next to him on the couch, glass extended.  “To the end of the world.”

He huffed a breath and gave her a wry look but accepted the toast.  “To the end of the world.”  Glass clinked against glass, and together they knocked back a long sip.

He relaxed into the couch.  “So everyone else is off the ship?”

She nodded slowly, lips not quite leaving the rim of the glass.  “Yep.  Chakwas is staying, and Joker – once he was assured through official channels that he was not going to be placed under arrest – but otherwise, it’s just you and me.  Kasumi and Thane were the last to leave; I’m afraid I had to not-so-gently shove them out the airlock and onto the dock.”

“They’re worried about you…” his mandibles fluttered slightly “…so am I.”

She rolled her eyes at him, a smirk hovering on her lips as a foot joined his atop the table.  “I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head…damn but this woman was hard-headed.  The whiplash of her going from victorious hero to war criminal in the span of several hours was enough to give him a neck ache; he could only imagine what it must be like for her.  But she refused to show weakness, refused to falter, even to him.  Though he supposed in its own way, the simple fact that she had asked him to stay – had wanted, maybe even needed, to not be alone this last evening – was an act of weakness.  One that she had chosen to let him see. 

He was more than happy to oblige her; it was, quite literally, the least he could do. 

“You could run, you know.  Speaking from experience, it’s a totally viable option.  And when you inevitably find yourself alone and under fire from a hundred or so mercs, just comm me; I’ll come rescue you.”

She punched his arm lightly, giving him a slight smile.  But it didn’t quite reach her eyes, which were dark and turbulent and lacking their usual shine.  “It’s tempting.  But I run, and I’m definitely helpless to respond when the Reapers hit.  I surrender now, and I figure I have at least a very, very small chance of being in a position to fight when the time comes.” 

She dropped her head back against the cushion and stared at the ceiling.  “I’ll scream and shout and bang on the walls of my cell and maybe, eventually, someone will listen…”

He watched her thoughtfully, again wishing he knew some way to help her…beyond getting sloshed with her on her last night of freedom, that is.  She’d risked her life time and again for them all, had given her life for them all, bore such a heavy weight and did so willingly – and they were going to lock her up for it.  It was a goddamn travesty.  And, the dark, rebellious part of his mind whispered, exactly the kind of fucked-up, bone-headed move I’ve always expected from the bureaucracy.