((Just for you, @fitofpaige <3))
“I’m Commander Shepard, Hero of the Galaxy.”
Fergus tried not to let his eye twitch as he heard the opening for the display model come to life again. Sweet relief appeared on his face when his replacement walked into the store.
“Oh thank god an’ sonny Jesus,” He said in lowered tones as the woman approached, “Please tell me that I can get the hell outta here.”
The woman looked amused, “Aw, what’s wrong? The bottle calling to you a little early today?”
“Nah,” He grumbled quietly, “That turian there has jus’ been goin at it with the Commander Shepard display model.”
Her eyes trailed over toward said turian, taking in his features for a few moments before she shrugged, “What’s wrong with that? She was the Hero of the Galaxy, right?”
“He’s gone through all the dialogue and menus four times, Ellie! Four!” Fergus growled, “And I’ve been stuck here behind the desk for it all!”
Ellen glanced back at the turian as she hopped onto the counter and threw her legs over, coming to stand next to the scottish tank. His face on one side was mangled–it looked like some sort of burn–and through the holographic light of the VI, Ellen could notice a few other things; like the lost, broken look in his eyes, and the way he seemed more than helpless as he watched the VI move through its dialogue.
“…Think he knew her?” Ellen asked quietly, and hesitated to clock in.
The noise Fergus made in response made Ellen worry that the Turian might glance over and they would have to pretend they weren’t gawking at the poor fellow, but the turian’s gaze never left the VI’s face.
“Are you off your rocker?” Fergus snorted again, “A human and a turian? That’s rare enough, but she was Commander Shepard.”
Ellen leveled a small glare at her co-worker, “You know I’ve dated a turian or two, right?”
“Well, when that faze ends, let me know when your ready for a real adventure in bed,” Fergus waggled his eyebrows at her, but groaned when a familiar I’m Commander Shepard… echoed through the store again.
Ellen rolled her eyes, muttering “Even a volus would have a bigger dick than you…”
When Fergus glanced at her, curious and obviously clueless as to what she said, Ellen instead added, “I’ll make you a deal; if I can get the turian to leave, you have to take my shift tonight.”
Fergus got a glint in his eye that almost had her rolling her eyes–he was so predictable, “If you can get that turian outta here, I’ll take your shift and pay you double your wage.”
“Deal,” She said, walking back around the counter and toward the turian.
It wasn’t until she stood next to the VI and waited patiently for the end of the VI’s current dialogue option that Fergus wondered if he just took a bad bet.
This close to the alien, Ellen felt a little confirmation to her earlier assessment. The poor guy didn’t even notice her approach him as he listened to Commander Shepard talk in vague details about her past.
Before he could run the next option, Ellen broke in.
“Anything I can help you with?”
At first, she wondered if he even heard her as long moments stretched by, while the turian continued to stare at the Commander Shepard VI; she was going to speak again when he finally answered her.
“No I…” It seemed a chore to him to pull his eyes away from Shepard to focus on her, “I’m fine.”
“No offense,” She said quietly, glad that customers were scarce at the moment, “But you don’t seem all that fine…sir.”
His eyes moved back to Shepard and a long, low sigh left his mouth.
“Guess its pretty obvious if a bystander can tell…” he almost seemed to say it to himself before he rubbed his eyes and glanced down at his omni-tool.
Before he could say anything, Ellen said, “I’m Ellen; Ellen Baker.”
Having dated turians, she didn’t reach out to offer him a handshake; they preferred salutes, or nods, she found. Probably part of their strange military culture she thought.
He hesitated, but finally said, “Garrus Vakarian,” with a polite nod.
“Well, Garrus,” She glanced at the VI–and purposefully not back toward Fergus–as she added, “I have a small wager with my co-worker back there that I can get you out of this store and away from this particular VI. What do you say I take you for a drink? It’s a win-win; you get a free drink and can come back here later, and I get to show that irritating co-worker of mine that he’s horrible at choosing his bets.”
Garrus seemed a little surprised at her blunt appraisal before he seemed to duck in a little self-conscious embarrassment; maybe he realized how long he’d been in the store, or maybe he wasn’t used to such bluntness. Ellen glanced at the VI again and made a small wager with herself that it was the former, not the latter.
“I don’t know if alcohol is the best option for me,” Garrus suddenly said, “Got into a little trouble with C-Sec the last time I went to a bar.”
“Then lets find us a little levo-dextro cafe and have a coffee,” She smiled, “You’ll have to give me a direct ‘no’ if you want me to leave you alone, handsome.”
That caught Garrus off guard, “I-well…sure.”
Ellen smiled like a cat who caught a mouse and hooked an arm with his.
“See you tomorrow, Fergus!” She called back, waving without looking at him as she lead Garrus out of the store.
Fergus cursed to himself and crossed his arms as he watched the two of them disappear into the crowds of the citadel.
“Only bad things to be said ‘bout a woman who strays from her species,” He shook his head to console himself, buckling down for his second shift.
“So you did know the Commander,” Ellen said, wrapping her hands around her coffee, “Hard to believe I’m lucky enough to be on a coffee date with her right-hand man.”
Garrus looked down at his own hot drink–something similar to coffee, if Ellen had to guess, “I more than ‘knew’ her; she was my…what do you humans say…girlfriend?”
Ellen nodded slowly, “Yeah; we humans love having that long ‘trial period’ before we settle down with another person. It’s one of our quirks.”
“Turians usually marry for the Hierarchy, if they’re from Palavan,” Garrus said, “So there’s not a lot of room for a ‘trial period’.”
She smiled, “I know; I dated a couple of turians. Well…dated is a strong term; the one from Palavan was a one-night stand that just sort of…lasted and the other guy…he was a funny one, from one of the colonies.”
“All the ones from the colonies are funny,” Garrus snorted.
There was a small pause where silence grew for a moment before Ellen broke in.
“I’m sorry…for your loss, I mean,” She said quietly, “I know its probably hard, trying to keep reminding yourself what she did was worth it with her gone…”
Garrus hesitated before his head bowed and he said, almost forcibly, “Of course what Shepard did was worth it; she saved the whole goddamned galaxy and didn’t require an ounce of thanks for it. She did it because it was the right thing to do.”
“God you sound like a turian,” Ellen sighed.
Garrus started, his head shooting up to meet her eyes, “What-”
“That’s why everyone says turians are machines, you guys always bury those feelings about dead comrades–dead anybody for that matter–and talk about something so clinical like ‘right and wrong’ or ‘honor’. You’re allowed to mourn her, Garrus; and I’m not talking about standing in front of her virtual intelligence mod, pretending like its not just a robot.”
Ellen could hear Garrus’s subvocals start to growl and she quickly stood, reached for his wrist and tugged gently, “C’mon, big guy, lets go see if we can’t loosen up those gears inside of you.”
Garrus resisted until the nickname–”Hey, big guy.” it was like hearing Shepard’s ghost–and then seemed to lose all will as he allowed Ellen to pull him from the table.
“I’m Garrus Vakarian and this is now my favorite part of the Citidel!”
His own voice echoed out back to him over from the far reaches of the Presidium now that he was standing here without Shepard.
Ellen was sitting in the middle of the small bridge-like structure, trying to ignore how far off the ground they were as she watched Garrus’s back as he took in his surroundings.
It took a few pokes and prods, but Ellen had dragged him from the Silversun Strip–Shepard’s old apartment was in the process of being turned into a small commemorative museum in her honor, something Garrus was quick to point out “would have made Shepard roll her eyes”–and the Armax Arena all the way to her plaque in the Embassy’s Lobby and now they were in the Presidium, standing in the same place that Shepard and Garrus stood what felt like lifetimes ago.
“So you thought it was romantic to kick her ass at sniper rifle-ing?” Ellen teased.
“If you knew Shepard, you’d understand,” Garrus chuckled quietly before moving to sit next to her, resting his elbows on his knees, “She subverted every expectation I had about humans, relationships…just…everything.”
Even over the wind, Ellen could hear the long, low keen that played out in Garrus’s subvocals. It has started up sometime after they read the plaque and observed just how many people–human and alien alike–were paying their respects to Commander Shepard, and she had caught it regularly since then.
“I just…” Garrus spoke quietly, his voice lost in his sadness, “…miss her, terribly.”
His head bowed and if turians could cry, Ellen knew he would probably be doing a lot of that just now.
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently before letting her hand drop, “…Yeah, I get it; I really do.”
Garrus didn’t answer, but there wasn’t a need; they just let themselves fall into the silence of the moment, Garrus in mourning, and Ellen offering her silent comfort.
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