New Beginnings

Cheese With a Side of Onion Rings

I was really looking forward to going back to the apartment, take a shower, eat something,  forget about the meeting with the council, Tali, my unfitness for duty, but there we were again. The skycar turned around, brusquely. My stomach grumbled, I was famished. Garrus chuckled.

"I have a nutrient paste bar, but I think that'll do more harm than good. We'll order something on our way there, my girl won't die of starvation, not after surviving a damn reaper you won't," he laughed, softly.

"I better not," I scratched my head. I noticed a scar, long and thin across my scalp. I left it alone. I remembered looking at myself in the mirror, years ago, in the bathroom of the SR2, glowing scars all over my face. All alone, staring back at a face I couldn't recognize. Was I even alive? I didn't know if Garrus was alive back then, or anyone else, really, just Joker all the way down in the cockpit, Chakwas sitting in the med-bay. We were all ghosts until proven real. Archangel, in Omega, truly heaven-sent: my heart finally felt something, I felt real. It pumped, it ached. I was alive, I was myself, ghosts couldn't feel love, could they? I felt his hand, clutching mine in the dimness of the skycar, the smell of fake pine needles rushed into my nose.

"Uh, penny for your thoughts? Did I say that right?" Garrus put his arm around my shoulders, warm, cozy. I laughed, softly, snuggling.

"Nothing, just remembering how you nailed me good that time we met in Omega," I joked.

"You mean in shore leave, that one time?" he smiled with his eyes, his voice low and gravelly. I couldn't remember. Hell, I wanted to remember that one time, it sounded good.

"You'll have to remind me of that one, Vakarian," I laughed, "Soon. But no, I meant that time I thought you were some masked turian vigilante. You know? I actually pictured you with fake wings and shiny lycra tights. Joker made a drawing and everything, I wonder if he still has it?"

"Oh, he has it. He shows it, every time we gather for drinks," he laughed. I didn't remember, I hated not remembering things, I felt broken and stupid. I needed to put myself back together soon or I'd go insane. Garrus hugged me tight, he had gotten good at reading human body language. He could tell. "Don't worry Shepard, you're halfway there. You've only been awake for a few days, take your time, give your body time to adjust. Don't push yourself so hard," he whispered. "You can't command your brain into healing itself, you know?"

"It would make things a lot easier, believe me," I sighed.

"Things have never been easy, why should they start being easy right now?" he joked. "Besides: I know you. You'd be bored in two minutes without a challenge. Take this as an adventure. A chance for exploration, like when you got the Normandy sr2 : new, different, you kept getting lost at first but you adjusted. And it was better than the first, brand new: calibrated guns. You will adjust, Shepard."

"I know. I will," I hugged him back, taking in his scent.

"Your brain just needs some calibrations. None will bother you while you're in the middle of them," he added.

"Don't push it, Vakarian," I joked. I did remember those endless calibrations. He wasn't really calibrating anything, he'd admitted it. But I guess I kind of was.

Garrus pushed a button near the window separating us from the driver. The turian woman turned around, looking puzzled.

"The Commander needs some food in her stomach, we need to make a turn over there, you think you could make a quick run and fetch her a hamburger? Cheese. And fries, the curly ones, round? Ring-shaped"

"Onion rings, Garrus," I chuckled. He remembered my favorite junk food in the galaxy.

"Those," his mandibles twitched in amusement.

The turian driver lowered the skycar, I could see, among some half-destroyed buildings in the process of being either demolished or reconstructed, the sign of my favorite hamburger chain. Still in business, even after the reaper invasion. Nothing stopped the greasy wheels of capitalism.

Hamburger in mouth, we continued our journey. Garrus watched me eat, smirking his turian smirk, practically cheering me after every successful bite. Eating in a moving skycar was hard, but it wasn't exactly an Olympic discipline. Garrus was fussing over me, again.

"What is it?" I asked, smirking, biting an onion ring. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten one of those things.

"Sorry, Shepard. Like I said, you've only been awake a couple of days, old habits. I can't help taking care of you, making sure you're ok. These last couple of months, day and night, seeing you in that hospital bed, asleep, filled with tubes, hooked up to machines," he sighed, laughing softly, relieved, "It's like a miracle. You're eating, by yourself," he ran a hand through his fringe. "A month ago, they would've said it was impossible. But here you are, with your tiny human fingers covered in oil," his mandibles twitched, softly.

"They're not that tiny," I pushed a whole onion ring in my mouth. "They're strong fingers, gun-holding fingers," I pulled an imaginary trigger.

"Well, for human standards," he put a hand over mine. His talons were long, my hand dwarfed next to his.

The separating window lowered.

"We're here," the turian driver announced. "Do you need directions to get to the building, Mr Vakarian, Sir?"

"Thank you, Nakreen, I know how to get there," Garrus adjusted his visor. "I've been there, plenty of times," he sighed.

The Palaven Embassy's campus, a plaque read.