Chapter Text
1.
"Come on, come on, damn it! Just two more steps! Come on...!"
"Jane."
I catch her just in time; the muscles, atrophied over nearly five years, can barely hold. For now, Jane's limit is ten steps. Today she managed an eleventh and almost made it to the armchair in the corner.
"Don't rush."
"Leave me alone," Jane replies wearily, with a hint of anger. "I want to get to that chair, and I will get there."
"You will," I nod, ruffling her soft hair with a talon. "You're adding a step every day, sometimes two."
"I can't wait until Raj clears me for leg presses and deadlifts," Jane hisses in frustration. Her mood always sours at times like this, and I understand why. She's more tired of the immobility than the blindness. Because coping with the blindness turned out to be significantly easier. Just a couple of months after her discharge, Jane could navigate the apartment without colliding with walls or furniture.
"Let me massage them, and then you can try again?" I say gently. The relentless woman sighs and wraps her arms around my neck. That's my permission to carry her to the bed and work on her legs, easing the tension from the muscles. An orderly would do it better, of course… But Jane can't stand medical staff. And I understand why.
I run the base of my palm from her ankle to her knee, and my love hisses in irritation. But then she strokes my shoulder, letting me know her anger isn't directed at me. I repeat the monotone motions, easing the muscle spasms, stimulating blood flow. I do the same for her thigh muscles; Jane grimaces… and then her face relaxes in astonishment. My hand is moving along the inside of her thigh.
"Garrus…"
"What?" I ask with interest.
"Do that again."
Obediently, I run my clenched fist—claws carefully covered inside it—along her slender thigh. Jane's breathing quickens. I guide my hand higher… A moan.
"Garrus…" she whispers. I can't believe it either. I unclench my fist and trace just a knuckle even higher, where her thigh meets her groin. Jane lets out a choked sob. I slowly lean down, pressing my mouth to her vagina, still covered by her clothes. Another moan, louder, longer.
The moment I apply pressure with my finger to her clitoris, still through the fabric, Jane arches her back and cries out. I caress her until a powerful tremor runs through her supple body, then move up and press my forehead to hers. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. Jane smiles, gasping for air.
"Garrus…"
"Just like before, my love. Just like before."
2.
I let out a sigh. It seems Jane has become very adept at distinguishing between my different sighs. This one is particularly heavy.
"Trouble?"
"Not exactly… Love, Solana is writing again. I think I've finally driven her completely up the wall."
"What does she want?" Jane looks up from her sandwich and tilts her head.
I haven't told her about my correspondence with my sister, and perhaps that was a mistake. Well… I guess now's the time.
"She wants to see me, finally. And to find out who I married without sharing the news with her."
Jane gives a soft smile.
"So call her."
"It's too late for that." I sigh again. "Sol has made it to Earth, found Melbourne, and is demanding I meet her at a mall on the outskirts."
"You're sighing as if this news terribly upsets you."
Jane slowly makes her way over to me, unerringly choosing the direction based on my voice, and crouches down beside me. She's very proud she can do this now, and her back doesn't even hurt from the movement like it used to.
"You see… I… I don't particularly want to meet her. I've only been in text-contact for five years, didn't tell her I have a wife…" I sigh once more. "I'm ashamed. As a brother, I'm awful. I didn't even find the time to properly support Sol after Mom died. I was busy… with us."
Jane stands up and takes both my mandibles in her hands. This means a motivational speech is coming. But I'm wrong.
"I really want to meet your sister. I think we'll get along. And if she doesn't forgive you… then to hell with her."
"It's not so easy to tell her to go to hell, Jane," I say gently. "She's my sister. And also… she's brought our father with her. Said the old one deserves to see me and my wife before he dies."
"He has a right," Jane shrugs and kisses me on the nose. "I'll wear your favorite dark-blue jumpsuit. And if your sister is as fond of shooting as you are, I'll have your back."
"Solana is a structural engineer," I snort, but I'm starting to smile. "So instead of a bullet, we should probably expect a girder flying our way."
3.
My family. All present. My father, his facial markings barely visible with age. My sister, arms crossed over her chest, looking at me with distrust. And Jane—across from them and right beside me.
"It's brandy you get us, son?" asks Castis Vakarian, holding a glass in his three-fingered hand.
"The best they can possibly serve us here," I shrug slightly.
Solana snorts.
"How did you even decide to stay on Earth, Garrus?"
"I kept him here," Jane says calmly. "My spine was torn apart, you know. And I have no eyes. I require medical supervision."
Father coughs.
"Son… Introduce us properly. I want to know more… about you both."
"Dad, Sol. This is my wife, Jane. Jane, this is my father, Castis, and my sister, Solana."
"I've heard a lot," my love nods, still maintaining her calm tone. "It's good to finally meet you."
"I am more… surprised by this introduction," father admits honestly, taking a small sip of brandy. "I didn't expect my family would include an alien."
Sol snorts again. And Jane suddenly smiles.
"I think my grandmother would have said the same thing about Garrus."
I can't help but chuckle. And father suddenly smiles.
"She's not bad, Garrus. Jane, will you tell us about yourself?"
Meanwhile, Sol is studying Jane's face, and her own expression grows increasingly astonished.
"Garrus! Those are the markings of Clan Jevian!"
"I didn't know which would be appropriate for me," Jane replies, "so I asked him to choose the ones that fit best."
"Did you serve?" Sol asks pointedly.
"On occasion," Jane parries with a smile. "Made it to Captain. Then… synthetics hit pretty hard, you know. I've been retired since."
"The Fleet?" Sol persists.
Jane nods.
"Jane handled a sniper rifle almost as well as I did," I note slyly, earning an elbow in the ribs.
"I beat you in that contest on the Citadel!"
"Only because I let you!"
Watching our playful bickering, father begins to smile. His character seems to have softened with the years. Or maybe it's just age…
Meanwhile, Sol, clearly intrigued, continues to interrogate Jane:
"So how did you meet Garrus?"
"During my service. He noticed me on the Citadel, and I noticed him. And then…"
"Are you sure you want to share that?" I ask with a smile. But Jane surely senses my wariness. And my anxiety.
"Why not, dear? I pursued Garrus. Realized he was closer to me than just another guy with a rifle."
Solana snorts, but I see her gradually softening.
"At least in that story, I recognize my brother. Always following someone he admired. Father into C-Sec, Shepard onto the Normandy…"
Jane squeezes my hand under the table.
"Hm… Yes, that's Garrus, all right. I fell in love with him for his loyalty."
She smiles slightly, dreamily, as if remembering something. Sol studies my wife intently, carefully, as if testing her strength.
"How did you lose your eyes? A very unusual injury. As if they exploded."
I give my sister a disapproving look, but I see our father is also interested in the answer. I notice the investigator's spark awakening in him. And…
"Good at keeping secrets, Solana?" Jane asks sharply, and I see Shepard coming to life. Oh. Well. To hell with it, as Jane says. Let it go as it goes. "And you, Castis?"
They both nod. Jane gestures for them to lean in closer.
"I'll tell you… at our place. No cameras there."
We rise from the table and soon enter our small apartment. A bit of clutter, I figure, won't bother anyone.
As I pour another round of brandy—turian for father, Sol, and myself, Earth-style for Jane—my wife sits down beside our guests and says calmly:
"Hardly a dozen people on Earth know this, but my surname is Shepard."
Sol's mandibles twitch in astonishment. But father just smiles calmly, stroking his chin.
"You're Shepard?!" Sol exclaims in a hushed voice, clapping a hand over her mouth.
"Yes. Facial reconstruction, new documents… I don't want my existence to be known. I'm not fond of extra fame. Make for a shitty Spectre now…"
There's bitterness in her voice. Out of habit, I walk over and put my arms around Jane's shoulders, then kiss the top of her head to soothe her. Sol's eyes grow twice as wide.
"Spectres are never former, Shepard," father says quietly, smiling. "I couldn't place what seemed familiar about you, besides the markings. Now I understand. And I regret I cannot boast of such a relation on Palaven. I wanted to scold you, Garrus, for flouting tradition and taking a wife without your family's counsel, but now I see why you did it."
Jane shakes her head, and Sol turns to me:
"And you kept this from us?! I always wondered why you were so glued to the Normandy!"
"Actually, Garrrus…" Jane begins, suddenly bristling, but I interrupt, sitting down next to her and placing my hand on hers:
"Military secret, Sol. I didn't tell you much about our… operations because they had to stay classified. Just like Jane Shepard's identity when she ended up in the hospital here in Melbourne. You know how it works."
"Soldier boy," Sol snorts. "Don't hide behind that. You could have told us, your only family, that you'd found someone!"
"It wasn't my secret to tell," I shrug calmly. "Jane revealed it because she could, and I think she trusts you both, but it was her secret."
"I can say I'm proud of a son who earned Shepard's love," father says thoughtfully, and Jane smiles at him. "I would like to see your children. See who they take after more."
"Biology won't allow us, Dad, biology won't allow," I reply with the phrase I've heard from Jane so many times. Then I have to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling over when my wife counters:
"We can't combine genes, but otherwise, genetic engineering is at our service. One child will be mine, the second—Garrus's. So, Castis, you'll get to see both versions of children who look like us. Before you get too old."
Sol starts laughing, watching my mandibles twitch in shock, as Jane turns to me, kisses my nose, and whispers softly in my ear:
"I decided this time, I'd be the one to take the next step first."
And Sol, meanwhile, says quietly to our father, but I hear it anyway:
"I thought she'd be… mad. It's Shepard, Dad!"
4.
"Don't you want to tell your mother, love? That you're alive and married to a turian?"
"No. She mourned me long ago; let it stay that way. I love her. And Hackett has taken good care of her."
We lie in the dark, looking at each other. Or rather, I'm looking, and Jane has simply turned her face toward me.
"You have a good family, Garrus. It's a shame we didn't meet them sooner. I really do want them to see the boys…"
"The boys? And who decided it would be boys?"
"I did. I…"
She suddenly presses her forehead against my chest.
"They'll join the fleet anyway, I know it, I'm sure of it, with parents like us. And… I don't want my daughter to fight. Daughters…" she lets out a shaky sigh, "are for something else."
"My love…" I stroke Jane's head, ruffling her hair with my claws, peacefully breathing in her scent. "To be honest, I really wanted a girl. One who looks like you. I'd spoil her… I like how humans do that. We don't differentiate in how we raise girls and boys. But humans… you… you know how to spoil girls."
Jane sighs.
"Garrus, you're right… I didn't think about what you might want. I'm sorry. How about two boys and a girl? Maybe we'll get one who can be spoiled, and not one like me?"
"And who said," I whisper, nuzzling my face into her neck and caressing the delicate, thin skin with my tongue, "that you can't be spoiled?"
5.
Jane meets me, her face pale.
"News?" I ask, concerned. She nods.
"I… Garrus, I… Liara found the Lazarus facility data."
"And?" I ask cautiously.
"Miranda handed all the technology over to the Earth government. They… Garrus…"
She gasps for air, but I wait patiently for her to continue.
"Dr. Raj called. The eyes will be ready next week. And the surgical protocol is already drafted."
I scoop Jane into my arms, but she continues, her words tumbling out:
"That's not all. All three embryos have successfully implanted and are developing… Garrus…"
She covers her face with her hands, and her shoulders begin to tremble. She's crying.
"Then why the tears, my love?"
"I…" She clutches desperately at my neck, as if drowning and trying to save herself. "Garrus, I… I… I couldn't… I never could… imagine… that I could have… a normal…"
I understand what she's trying to say. Because in that moment, I realize I feel the exact same way. We are locked in an embrace, both of us overwhelmed, as if by a flood, by the sensation of a normal life.
A life without constant gunfire, transit jumps, missions, and forays into toxic, dangerous corners of the universe. A life without Collectors and Reapers, without perpetual haste, adrenaline, and hurried couplings before a battle. Without moments of tenderness and passion torn frantically from a busy schedule.
This time, we make love not with growls and the sound of tearing sheets, but to the rhythm of stumbling speech: confessions, confessions, confessions…
"I… oh… Garrus, I wanted so badly… ah!.. for us to just… raise children…"
"I dreamed of taking you to a… paradise, remember? To… like in the vids… Love, more!"
"I thought… I'd never return… to a life with children and a normal body…"
"I thought… I couldn't… be a calm husband… to stay by your side… for the long time…"
We keep talking even after we've finished making love. We talk until dawn, interrupting each other, drowning one another in happiness. It seems the armor of our soldierly lives has finally been shed, like an old skin. And we can finally clothe ourselves in something else. Not to fight, but simply to live.
6.
"Cover your right eye. Read."
"Earth. Space. Tree. Grassy. Printed in a…"
"You don't need to read that part. Now cover the left…"
I watch Jane, so businesslike and yet so visibly moved. Finally, the protective visor is off, and she can look at anything she wants.
And then she turns to me. Those familiar green eyes… Only the pupil has a slight glow, betraying their synthetic origin. Her head is shaved—they had to perform a craniotomy to install the sensors in her brain, otherwise the system wouldn't function. But that's trivial. Human hair grows back quickly.
"Very handsome markings, Garrus."
Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice that Jane has already walked up to me and is slowly studying my face.
"Yours are even more beautiful, love," I smile.
"May I have a mirror?"
A medic promptly hands her one, and Jane can finally, for the first time in five years, see her own face. The face of a stranger. My wife carefully runs a finger over the elegant blue tattoo—it adorns her forehead above the brows and down the center, her temples, and the bridge of her nose.
"Garrus, it's beautiful work. It suits me very well, I think."
"I couldn't agree more."
"Such gallantry," Jane laughs. "And now… shall we visit the other wing? To see them? We take them home in two weeks. I want to get acquainted."
Of course, Jane. I, too, am desperate to see our children, even if they are still in their protective incubation units. Terrius, Fidelion, and Joan are waiting for us. I'm sure these three won't fight over toys… Well, probably. But perhaps one of them will take an interest in our extensive weapons collection when they're older. After all, their parents are accomplished killers, as Jane once joked.