Garrus Gets Legos
A Mass Effect Story
This story takes place after Shepard “dies” at the beginning of Mass Effect 2. Shep and Liara are a couple and Shepard has an 11 year old daughter from a previous relationship, Ridley (sometimes referred to as RJ). Liara has adopted Ridley in Shep's absence.
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"Hello, Garrus. This is Liara calling. I hope you are well. I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor. I need . . . well, I need someone I can trust. I have a project, an important project I am working on and I need to be away from home for an evening next Thursday, but I cannot bring Ridley with me. If you are not otherwise occupied, would you consider watching her, spending the evening with her while I am out? I believe the human term is babysitting, which I do not understand, because Ridley is neither a baby, nor should she be sat upon. When I talked to her about it, she said she would be willing to “hang out” with you. I don’t understand this term either, especially because it would be incredibly dangerous, considering the level we live on. At any rate, if you are free, I would very much appreciate it. Just don’t sit on her or allow her to dangle out of our windows. Thank you, Garrus. Please call me back."
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Garrus stood at the comm in his apartment, waiting for his call to go through. After a few moments, a familiar face – well, mask, really – appeared on the screen.
“Hey, Garrus.”
“Hey, Tali.”
“What brings me the pleasure of your call, G?”
“Well, I need some help.”
“You do? That’s unusual – not that you need help, but that you would ask for it.”
“Now, wait a minute –“
“Just teasing. What’s going on, Garrus?”
“Okay, well, I’m looking for some sort of gift for Ridley. Liara asked me to watch her next Thursday. I want to bring something.”
“Garrus Vakarian, babysitter.” She chuckled. “Okay. What sort of thing?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’m afraid if I just show up empty handed, we’ll just stare at each other . . . and I want to make a better impression than that. I hope I can . . . I mean, I’d like to help with Ridley, for Liara, and for Ridley, of course, but also . . . for Shepard.”
Tali sighed. “I know you miss Shepard. We all do. But she’s gone, Garrus. You have to let her go . . . as hard as that is.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m trying.”
“But now you’re trying to somehow connect with Shepard through her daughter.”
He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. “Well, yes, I guess that’s true.” It was difficult to admit, and he hadn’t thought that’s what he was doing, but now that Tali said it . . . well, she had a way of getting to the point. “But also, I think Ridley needs more than just Liara, and I . . . I think being part of that would honor Shepard’s memory. It would be what she’d want. But also, it’s been awhile since Ridley’s seen me, and what if she doesn’t like me? Or we don’t have anything to talk about? I mean, she’s been so lonely and withdrawn since Shepard – since she . . . ”
“Since she died, Garrus,” said Tali sadly.
Garrus took a deep breath. “Yeah, since she died.” He looked at the floor. “Dammit,” he muttered. “It’s still so hard to say.”
“I know. It’s hard for all of us.”
“But it’s so much harder for Liara. And even worse for Ridley. Hence, the gift. A toy or something. I want to try to give her something else to think about, something she can maybe sort of lose herself in. Liara wants her to be able to connect with her roots, so it has to be something made by humans, but something we can do together. Like a game, maybe. Or a puzzle. She’s good with puzzles.”
“How about music? Liara has mentioned more than once that Ridley shows an aptitude for it.”
“Yeah, but that makes one of us. No rhythm, see?”
“You know, I have seen you dance. Don’t sell yourself short, Garrus. You’ve got moves.” He could hear the smile in her voice and he felt his face smile back. “Okay, let me see what I can do. Talk to you later.”
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The next morning, Tali called.
“Hey, Tali.”
“Hey, yourself, Garrus. I think I can help you out.”
“Fantastic! Thanks. How’d you do it?”
“I found a shopping VI on the extranet and hacked it to widen the search parameters, and then I put in all you told me about what you were looking for.” She paused. “It took me four hours.”
“Tali, I think I love you.”
If Tali blushed under her mask, she gave no sign of it.
“What did you find?” Garrus asked.
“Quite a lot, actually. Puzzle games, strategy games, word games, building toys –“
“Building toys. She’s a creative girl. Let’s start there.”
“There are several made on Earth which utilize mass effect technology to create a virtual space to be populated by virtual creatures, designed by the player.”
“Hmm. Can we try something a little less, um, virtual? She seems to really enjoy the tactile, something real.”
“Well, there is one that you both might like. It also has a connection with Earth’s past. When I found it, I thought it would be perfect, but getting a hold of it is going to be a little more involved than the others.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“They were called Legos.”
“Lay Goes?”
“Yes. They were interlocking plastic blocks that could be connected in almost infinite ways, made on Earth in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. They were immensely popular. Here, I’ll send you a feed.”
An ancient video started playing on the monitor, showing human children building vehicles, creatures, houses . . . and plenty of other, harder-to-define, objects. Garrus watched for approximately ten seconds.
“That’s it. That’s perfect. Where can I find them?”
“Well, that’s one of the problems. They haven’t been made in over 150 years, and they are very difficult to come by, even on Earth.”
“Difficult, but not impossible, right?”
“Right. I looked into it last night. There is an art collector on Bekenstein who has quite a variety of Legos in his collection, and has offered them for sale on the extranet. Considering their scarcity, the price is fairly reasonable. It seems the best choice – or at least, the best place to start.”
“Sounds good. I didn’t have anything planned for the weekend, anyway.”
“What about next weekend? You free?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” said Garrus, puzzled.
Tali sighed. “Never mind.”
“Thanks, again, Tali.”
“No problem, Garrus. Let me know if you need anything else. You know I’m here for you.”
“I know. Thanks.” He disconnected the feed.
“Well,” he said to the empty apartment. “I guess I’m off to Bekenstein.”
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The billionaire’s house – no, mansion – was impressive, to say the least. So much wealth, on such obvious display . . . well, Garrus's time in C-Sec had made him suspicious. And not a little uncomfortable.
The art collector, dressed impeccably in a tailored, tasteful suit, strode forward to greet him.
“Hello, Mr. Vakarian,” he said in a clipped accent Garrus could not identify. “Thank you so much for your inquiry. I believe we have exactly what you are looking for.”
“That’s good news,” said Garrus, eyeing the security protocols out of habit. They were impressive. “I’m so glad you were available to meet me on such short notice, Mr. - ?”
“Hock. Donovan Hock, at your service.”
Garrus could not help but grin. “Well, that’s a refreshing change.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m just used to being at other people’s service. Especially people with your . . . assets. Never mind. Just a joke.”
“Ah, well. Step this way, Mr. Vakarian. I have the collection on display for your perusal.” Hock turned back to Garrus. “May I ask, what prompted your interest? A toy, from Earth’s past? Unusual for a turian, don’t you think?”
“Well, I’m . . . uh, babysitting a human kid in a couple days and I just wanted to bring her something from her roots. Plus, this kid . . . well, I have a feeling she’ll really like these Lay Goes.”
Hock stopped. “Ah, Mr. Vakarian, I’m afraid I must correct you. They are not called Legos. They are, collectively, Lego. The word is already plural, you see?”
“Hmm. But there are a lot of them, all different. Each piece is a single Lay Go.”
“I’m afraid that is not correct. They are Lego Bricks and Toys, or Lego Elements. I have done extensive research on the subject. The Lego company was quite adamant about the way their brand name was discussed.”
“Well,” said Garrus, deciding in that moment that Donovan Hock was, in fact, an arrogant prick – and Garrus was going to call them whatever the hell he wanted. “Okay. Lead on.”
Hock wound his way through the opulent home, pointing out various priceless works of art along the way. Garrus nodded at all the right moments, although he truly couldn’t care less. In fact, this place was giving him a bad feeling all over.
Finally, they arrived at a heavy security door, which opened at Hock’s approach.
“You keep your toys under some pretty impressive scrutiny,” said Garrus.
“Yes, toys, certainly. Have you ever seen a child deprived of his toys?” Asked Hock. “I was. And I stopped at nothing to get them. And now, even as an adult, I make sure that will never happen again. But there’s more in here than just toys, my friend.”
The door opened upon what had to be one of the largest museums Garrus had ever seen – although, truth be told, he hadn’t seen that many. Works of art and historical artifacts from a thousand worlds were preserved and on display, behind glass or, in some cases, effect fields.
“Well, I have to admit, I’m very impressed with the size of your collection,” said Garrus. “The diversity, too. A lot of races are represented here. Wait,” he said, thinking of Liara. “Do you have any Prothean relics?”
“Oh, a few,” said Hock.
“I have a friend who might like to study them sometime, if that would be all right.”
“Certainly. When our business is concluded, let’s get the contact information set up and they can visit whenever they like. Ah,” said Hock. “Here we are.”
He pointed at a large display case. In it were probably a few thousand small, multicolored plastic blocks, sticks, and other pieces.
“Wonderful,” said Garrus. He took another look at them. “Hmm. They’re a little smaller than I expected.” He glanced down at his hands. “Oh, well. They’re perfect for . . . my charge.”
“I’m glad they are to your satisfaction. You have the credits?”
“Right here,” said Garrus, pulling out a datapad and handing it to Hock.
Hock examined the pad, performed a transaction, and a broad smile crossed his face. “Excellent. The Lego are yours.”
“Great. Now,” said Garrus, looking at a large empty space in the museum, directly ahead. “What’s missing there?”
“Oh, there is a large piece I just made room for, which I hope to acquire quite soon. In fact,” said Hock. “You are going to help me do just that.”
“What?”
The sting of the dart hit Garrus in the neck. His hand reached up to the wound, and dizziness started to overcome him. He fell to his knees.
“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Vakarian,” said Hock, his voice sounding distant and fuzzy. “It’s just that you yourself are worth so much more than the price of the Lego.”
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There was some sort of bell that would just not stop ringing. An image of soldiers, their boots marching through mud, kept swimming in and out of focus. He was aware of a dull ache that wrapped itself around his head and penetrated his skull. Every part of his body felt heavy and listless as he slowly awoke from the feverish dream.
“Ah, Mr. Vakarian,” came that clipped voice again, still sounding far away, like it came from the other end of a tunnel. “Glad you could join us.”
“Fuggoff,” slurred Garrus. His hands were bound behind his back, and hi s legs were shackled.
Hock gave a chuckle, sounding a little closer now. “Such spirit. I see why you made so many enemies. No compromise with you, eh?”
With tremendous effort, Garrus lifted his head and said, “Fuck. Off.”
“No, I don’t think I will. See, my friend, when one makes enemies, as you so diligently have, those enemies tend to, well, flock together.” Hock lowered himself to meet Garrus’s eyes. “And they will pay, gladly, to see you suffer.”
Garrus tried to spit at Hock and succeeded only in drooling on his own chin.
“Please, Mr. Vakarian, try to maintain a modicum of decorum. The poison introduced into your system will break down within a few minutes. Then you will be able to spit to your heart’s content. And you will be able to feel this,” he pinched Garrus’s arm. “You see, the people who want you, want you to really feel what they - well, what I have in store for you. It just won’t work if you’re numb.”
Garrus glared at Hock. The art collector stood up and turned his back on his captive. “Ah, Mr. Vakarian,” he said. “You are wanted by four people - well, four groups, actually, and they all have rather sizable bounties on you.” While Hock was talking, Garrus shifted his attention around the room. His vision was still a little blurry, but he could make out cameras, a guard, a door. The guard was armed, assault rifle in hand, pistol in holster.
“At first, I thought of just offering you to the highest bidder. That would go a long way to getting the piece that I want – a piece that, like your Lego, also has a connection to Earth’s past, I might add.”
Garrus was feeling sharper by the second. He subtly flexed his arms, testing the cuffs at his wrist. They were solid, connected to the chair, but separate from the shackles on his ankles.
“Then I thought, well, everyone enjoys a show. So I made them a deal. For all four of the bounties, they could tie your arms and legs to different vehicles, and then they could just . . . pull you apart. Each group could take a different piece of you.” Hock turned around. “They agreed so quickly. We didn’t even have to negotiate the price. In fact, I already have the payment.” Hock smiled. “Either they are naturally bloodthirsty, or . . . well, maybe you just bring that out in people.”
“Yes, well,” said Garrus. “I guess I have a knack for that. Just like you have a knack for being a lowbrow motherfucker, pretending to have good taste.”
Hock’s smile disappeared. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You have no appreciation for anything you’ve got. You don’t have any Prothean relics – if you really think you do, then whoever sold them to you lied and you didn’t know any better.” Hock’s face had darkened like the sky before an oncoming storm, and his hands had clenched into fists. “You’re just a spoiled brat who collects what other people tell him are worthwhile,” Garrus went on. “It’s all just . . . toys to you, so you can feel important, like a big shot. But I bet all the people who come here are laughing behind your back. Because they know you’re really just a little boy, hoping the grown-ups will let him play.”
Hock’s fist slammed into Garrus’s face. At that moment, Garrus dislocated his left thumb and pulled it free of the cuff on his chair.
Hock glared at Garrus. “It’s been a long time since I hit another man, but that was worthwhile.”
“Yes, I’m sure that brought back memories of grade school, where you hired bigger kids to hold down the little ones, so you could really show them all what a big man you are.”
Hock hit him again. Garrus took the impact, allowed it to throw him backward, and swung his legs up, over his head in a reverse somersault as the chair fell over backwards with a clatter. In a heartbeat, he was on his feet, shackled though they were. He swung his right arm - and the chair, still attached, slammed directly into Hock’s stomach. The man doubled over with a grunt, and Garrus brought his left fist down onto Hock’s head. Hock crumpled to the floor. Garrus spat at the unconscious billionaire – successfully, this time.
The guard already had his rifle trained on Garrus, but the turian held the chair in front of him as the guard got off a single shot, which buried itself in the chair’s frame. By then, Garrus had closed the distance and pressed the top rail of the chair into the guard’s throat, holding it there until the guard turned pale, his eyes rolling back into his skull. Garrus held it there a moment longer.
“These close quarters, should have kept your pistol out, slung your rifle over your back,” he said to the unconscious guard. “Amateur.”
He was prowling the corridor less than a minute later when the alarm went off. “Oh, crap.”
He grabbed the pistol and fired into the chain between his feet. Now, about this chair . . . He looked down at the guard, searching for ideas. One obvious one presented itself immediately. “Oh. Keys. Well. Maybe I’m the amateur.”
He had no bearings, no way to see if he was heading in the right direction for the landing bay. There was a doorway up ahead. He threw himself to one side before he opened it, keeping his stolen pistol up and checking the rifle over his shoulder.
The door opened onto a walkway above the museum. Garrus glanced down, finding the door he’d come through earlier almost immediately. Unfortunately, there were a dozen guards below, as well. What I wouldn’t give for a sniper rifle right now, he thought. The last one would be gone before the first one hit the floor.
He thought he saw movement on this level, too, just ahead, out of the corner of his eye. He started forward, then a man stepped out, a few yards ahead, pistol in hand. Garrus started to bring his own up, knowing even as he did so that the man had the drop on him, that he was dead. The man fired, twice.
Garrus froze, feeling a tightening in his belly as the bullets . . . went by his ear. He turned and saw one of Hock’s men behind him, a couple new holes in his face, drop to the floor.
The guards below drew their weapons and fired. Garrus traded his pistol for his rifle in one smooth motion and returned fire, dropping four of them in seconds.
The other man dropped to the floor and tossed something down towards the guards. In two seconds, it exploded, shredding men and priceless artifacts alike.
The man stood up. “That oughta do it.’
Garrus turned back to the other man. “Uh . . . thanks?”
“My pleasure,” the other man smiled. He was asian, with close-cropped hair and a single line of a goatee from his lip to his chin. “Anything to throw a monkey wrench into Hock’s plans.”
Garrus relaxed. “Well, then, you’re my kinda guy, Mr - ?”
“No names,” said the man. “I’ve still got work to do. And so do you.”
“Yeah, I’ve got to get the hell out of here.”
“Yes, but first,” said the man, grinning, “don’t forget your Legos.”
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Garrus carried the Lego case toward the landing pad.
Almost there, he thought. Seems too easy.
As he approached the nearest ship, he heard a voice behind him.
“Where do you think you’re going, Vakarian?”
He turned around. There were seven mercs there. Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack, and another group he didn’t recognize. All armed to the teeth. A human in Blue Suns armor said, “We paid good money to see you torn apart. Now we’re gonna make that happen.”
“Ah,” said Garrus. “You know, you guys should really start working together under a single name. Should call yourselves ‘The Cowards’. Making a rich guy do your dirty work for you. Taking on one guy with seven, all hiding behind your guns.”
“Fuck you, Vakarian!”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Garrus. “Besides, you can’t pull me apart alive if your shoot me first. Come on, there’s seven of you. Surely you can take me together, hand to hand.”
The mercs glanced at each other.
“If you don’t, you know you’ll always know you backed down, took the easy way,” Garrus goaded.
The mercs put down their weapons.
“Okay,” sighed Garrus as he cracked his knuckles. “Who wants it first?”
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Twenty minutes later, a badly wounded, but exhilaratingly alive Garrus was prepping the stolen ship for departure.
“Hang on, kid,” said Garrus as he lifted off. “I’m on my way.”
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The door chime rang, finally, and Liara tried to send a smile at Ridley. “That would be Uncle Garrus.”
Ridley looked at her momma. “Great,” she said, her voice flat.
Liara felt her heart drop. She knew Ridley was upset and felt – once again - abandoned. If only I could talk to her, tell her what I am trying to do . . . But she knew she couldn’t. If she got the girl’s hopes up that there was a chance to bring her mother back, and then it didn’t happen, it would just further damage her. And Liara felt Ridley had been damaged enough. The galaxy is so . . . cold. So she could take the pain of Ridley’s mood, if it meant protecting her from disappointment. She sighed and went to answer the door. It would be nice, she thought, so see a familiar face.
When the door opened on his face, however, it wasn’t so familiar. She gasped. “Goddess! Garrus, what happened to you?”
“You should see the other guy. Or, guys, actually.”
The turian’s face was bloody and bruising. One arm was crudely bandaged, and . . . “Garrus, is that . . . is that a bullet hole?”
“It’s not so much a hole as it is a scrape. I’m okay, Liara. I just need a little medi-gel and I’ll be good as new. Well, good enough, anyway.”
Liara’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh my goodness,” she said. “Well, come in.” She offered a hand, and Garrus took it. He limped into the apartment. “Sit down,” she said, indicating a chair at the dining room table. “Ridley?” she called. “Can you get some medi-gel from the bathroom?”
“Fine,” said Ridley from the other room. “What, did you get a paper cut?”
Ridley appeared a few seconds later, scowling, but then she dropped the medi-gel at the sight of Garrus. “Oh!”
“Hi, kid,” he said, managing a grin. “Don’t worry about me. Just had a little . . . detour on the way back from getting you a present.”
“A present?”
“Ridley!” snapped Liara. “The gel!”
“Oh, right!” said Ridley, picking it up the floor and handing it to her Momma.
Liara wasted no time in applying the gel to the turian’s many wounds. Garrus’ mandibles quivered a bit when she touched the bullet graze, but he made no sound. Ridley helped a bit and looked on until she was sure her Uncle was okay, then disappeared back into the other room.
Liara whispered, “She has been so clingy, questioning everything I do, but when I ask about her, she barely says a word. I don’t know what’s going on in her head – and I’m scared to ask, because I think I’ll just push her away.”
“My sister was like that when she was about Ridley’s age,” said Garrus. “Seemed to live in her own little world . . . Population: One. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll grow out of it. Just keep doing what you’re doing – which I know is hard. Just so, if she decides to talk, she knows you’re there. But yeah, don’t push. For now.”
Liara sighed. “It’s so hard to be patient sometimes.”
“Sounds like Shepard rubbed off on you some, Liara,” Garrus chuckled.
Liara caught herself, and grinned. “Maybe she did, at that.”
When she was done and he was properly bandaged, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay to stay with Ridley?”
“Absolutely. After what I went through to get these, there is no way in hell I’m not playing with RJ.”
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“You mentioned a present?” said Ridley, after Liara had left.
“I thought you’d never ask. Go sit at the table and I’ll bring ‘em over.”
Ridley did so and Garrus brought out the Lego case.
“So, Ridley, these,” said Garrus proudly, “are called Lay Goes. They were made on Earth, by humans, a long time ago.” He dumped the contents of the box onto the table with a clatter. Multicolored plastic pieces spilled across to Ridley.
She was unimpressed. “Uh. Thanks.” She picked one up. “What do they do?”
“Well, it’s not so much what they do, as it is what you do with them,” he said. “See, they kind of fit together, and you can build things with them.”
“What kind of things?”
“Pretty much whatever you want.” He grabbed one block and attempted to snap it on to another. His large fingers made this task more difficult than he had expected. “Hmm. I wish they were a little bigger,” he muttered. He started to wonder if this had been a good idea. She obviously couldn’t care less. He tried to contain his growing disappointment. He hadn’t gone through all this to give up now. “Should be perfect for your hands, though. Give it a try.”
With a noted lack of enthusiasm, she picked up two pieces at random. She turned them over in her hands, looking at the bumps and crannies. “Hmm,” she said. She snapped them together. “Oh,” she said. She grabbed another block and fit it onto the other two with a click. “Oh!” she said again, her face lighting up as she started to see the possibilities. “Ooooh.” She grabbed a handful of pieces and started to put them together.
Garrus smiled as he watched her and saw the wheels turning in her mind, and he relaxed. He’d been right – this was perfect for her.
“What do you say we build something extraordinary?”
Garrus picked up the pieces and clumsily attempted to work with them while Ridley built away. He was thrilled at how much Ridley was enjoying this, but he himself was having trouble fitting the small pieces together, and it was a little frustrating, particularly because this toy really appealed to his need for order and detail. It was an incredible, yet simple, design. Eventually, he limited himself to the largest pieces he could find and did the best he could. But he kept glancing back at Ridley. She was building . . . and building . . .
“Oh, yeah!” she said, her eyes glued to the pieces, her fingers nimbly constructing at random. No, not at random, Garrus thought – there was already a pattern emerging.
He had to ask. “What is that you’re putting together, RJ?”
She didn’t take her eyes off her project. “I have no idea, yet, but this is so fun!”
He got up to get them both a snack. When he came back, a bowl of Tierrot Root chips for himself in one hand and a slice of banana bread for Ridley in the other, he suddenly let out a yell.
“OH GODDAMMIT MOTHERF-“
He slammed the bowl and the plate down on the table and hopped on one foot over to the wall, steadying himself with one hand.
“Uncle Garrus! Are you all right?” Ridley’s forehead creased with concern as she half-rose from the table.
“Ah, yeah, RJ, I’ll be fine,” panted Garrus. He bent his knee and looked at the bottom of his foot. Gingerly, he reached down and extracted a bright blue cube from his biggest toe. “I just . . . stepped on a Lay Go. Ah, man,” said the turian. “That hurts like hell.”
He looked down, and saw a half-assembled smattering of Legos where he had stepped. “Oh, no, RJ,” he said as he picked them up. “I smashed it.” He sheepishly handed it back to her. “I’m sorry.”
She was trying, but failing, not to laugh. “Sorry, Uncle Garrus.”
"It's okay. Just don't tell your Momma I said some of those words."
She took it and turned it over in her hand. “That’s okay, Garrus. I can put it back together in just a sec. Wait,” she said. “No, see this? I can take this part off,” she did so, “and add it back over here,” she snapped the part onto the ever-growing assembly in front of her on the table, “and HA!” She smiled. “See, it’s a cave now!”
Garrus’s jaw dropped. This kid was something else, all right.
In the end, her Lego creation turned out to be a partially synthetic dragon (a cyborgon, Ridley informed him) attacking a starship because the starship had accidentally gotten too close to the dragon’s eggs. Garrus marveled at the complexity of the set, especially considering the girl had only started playing with Legos just over an hour ago. And he was particularly impressed with how she had constructed an entire story around her project. While her hands had been building the model, her mind had been building the story.
Garrus suddenly felt an enormous wave of love for Ridley. He had not felt so happy since before Shepard died. To see her daughter playing . . . just playing . . . brought him a feeling of immense joy that he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed. And he knew that, if Shepard could see Ridley now, she’d be smiling.
Garrus finally gave up working with the Legos himself (damn huge fingers, stupid tiny blocks) and just contented himself with watching Ridley play, occasionally offering suggestions or asking questions.
“How’s school these days, RJ?”
She was now working on what was becoming a pretty close Lego approximation of the Destiny Ascension.
“It’s okay. Music is my favorite, of course, but we only get to do that twice a week.”
“Ah, music. Love listening to it, can’t play or sing or dance worth a damn.” He sighed. “Got any friends?”
“I have two. Katora and Holden.”
“Let’s hear the scoop.”
“Well, Katora and Katie and I share a study pod together. She’s asari and pretty neat. I help her with her homework sometimes. Holden is human and we’re in math class together. He’s blond and smart and he’s good at math and science and he talks a lot and he’s, um, really cute.” The words came out in a rush as Ridley turned a deep scarlet.
“Well,” said Garrus, giving no indication whatsoever that he’d noticed her response when talking about a boy. “They sound like cool kids.”
“Yeah, they are.” She paused, and looked at him. “Can I tell you a secret, Uncle Garrus?”
“Of course.”
“Promise not to tell Momma?”
“Well, that depends on the secret. Will this secret hurt anyone?”
“No.”
“Then, yes, I promise not to tell your Momma.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I really like Holden. Like, really. A lot.”
“Ah,” said Garrus. “I think I see what you’re saying, RJ.”
“Yeah,” said Ridley. “He makes me laugh a lot. He’s super funny. He’s always making up stories. Sometimes, I hear him just singing a song he’s just making up as he goes – and the words rhyme at the right time.”
“Kind of like you, just now,” chuckled Garrus.
Ridley turned an even deeper red. “Stop it!” she giggled.
“Sorry,” said Garrus, grinning. “But I’m not surprised you like that he sings.”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Anyway, at first I just thought he couldn’t shut up – like maybe he had a condition - but then he would remember things that I’d said like a week before. I think he listens almost as much as he talks.”
“Well, that’s a rare thing,” said Garrus. “So why’s this such a big secret? Why can’t you tell your Momma about him?”
“She’d never let me be his – I mean, she wouldn’t want him to be my – well, she wouldn’t like it if we were . . . more than friends.”
“Have you talked to her about him at all?”
“No. No way.”
“Well, then, how do you know?”
Ridley sighed. “Because Momma wants me to stay her baby, forever. But I’m growing up. I’m not a baby.”
Garrus looked at her. “Well, that’s true. You are growing up. And I know she’s proud of you. It’s just that . . . well, you’re very special to her, RJ. You mean the world to her – the galaxy, even. And you have to remember, she’s an asari and asari kids don’t grow as quickly as human kids do. So it’s a little scary for her to see how fast you’re growing up. Maybe she feels it’s a little too fast for her.”
Ridley thought for a moment. “You think that’s true?”
“Yes, I do. She can take her time doing things because she’s going to live for over a thousand years, but your lifetime is barely a blink of her eyes.”
“But it’s my life, and I’m not an asari, and I’m growing at human-speed.”
“Of course you are,” he said. “But really, I think she’s scared of losing even a minute with you. She wants to savor every moment of it because she knows that time has a way of slipping away from us. She knows how life can change in a heartbeat. I mean,” he cleared his throat, “she already lost your mom. I think she’s scared to death of losing you, too.”
He could tell this last had an impact on Ridley. She stopped, the Legos frozen in her hand, and she stared out the window, focused on nothing. A full minute passed in silence.
“I . . . I didn’t think of that,” said Ridley. “Sometimes I forget that Momma lost her, too.”
“Try to remember,” said Garrus gently, “that it’s hard for her, just like it’s hard for you.”
Ridley gave him a sad little smile. “I’ll try, Uncle Garrus.”
“Good. In the meantime, why don’t you invite Holden over to play sometime?”
She flushed again. “Oh, I don’t know . . .”
“Invite Katora over, too, then, if that makes it a little less scary.”
“Hmm.” She turned the idea over in her head. “That’s a good idea. They get along, too . . . although,” she grinned slyly at him, “not too well.”
“There you go.”
“You know what else?”
“What’s that?”
She smiled. “I bet he’d really like Legos.”
“You think so, huh?” She nodded. “Good,” he said. “Then you’ll have something to do together when he comes over.”
They played together without speaking for a few moments, each enjoying sharing the other’s silence. Then Ridley piped up.
“Uncle Garrus?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you still wearing that?” She pointed at his face.
“Huh? Oh,” he said, reaching up to touch his visor. “I don’t know. I pretty much always have it on. I needed it earlier, when I was . . . getting your Lay Goes. It helps me out when I . . . run into trouble.”
“Are you expecting to run into trouble now?”
Garrus chuckled. “Heh, no. Unless you want to fight me for the last bit of ice cream.”
“Come on, you can’t eat that anyway,” she laughed. “Why don’t you take it off?”
“I . . . don’t know. I guess I’m so used to it . . . “
“Well, give it a try.”
Garrus looked away, then back at Ridley. He could face down mercs, but taking off his visor . . . still, here she was, Shepard’s daughter, challenging him. And here he was, trying to build her up, trying to show her courage, when she needed someone to look up to . . . He reached up and unfastened the visor, then looked at her.
She looked at him for a second, then turned back to the Legos. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
If only you knew how hard, kid, he thought. But why?
“You look weird. Like, you’re not yourself.”
“Well . . . uh, thanks,” he said.
“I’m just used to . . . “ she said, then she looked at him. “But this is how you really are. Underneath.”
“Hmm,” said Garrus. “Well, I guess so. Maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to do.”
They looked at each other, then each looked away.
“Did you really beat up seven guys?” Ridley asked.
“Well, not so much ‘beat up’ as ‘make them sorry for getting in my way’.”
“But, seven?”
“Maybe I should have said seventy. And a thresher maw.”
She smirked, and Garrus thought, She looks exactly like Shepard, and he felt a pang deep in his heart.
“You’re gonna have a lot of scars,” said Ridley. “Well, a lot more, anyway.”
“Yeah, well, maybe. Most of them will heal up fine.”
“What about this one?” She pointed at a deep, thick line on his forearm.
“Yeah, that one . . . won’t. But that’s okay. See, I got that one helping your mom.”
Ridley turned away. “Did she end up hurting everyone she touched?”
Garrus reached out and gently turned her face back to his. “No, she inspired everyone. To stand up and fight for something more than themselves. It’s just that, sometimes, that means you get hurt. But the galaxy is a better place because of the things she inspired us to do. Besides, I don’t want to die without any scars. Means I lived through something. And your mom knew a thing or two about that – hell, she could have taught a class in it. She had a few scars, too.”
“But there was one thing she didn’t live through.”
“Yeah.” Garrus swallowed hard and let out a breath. “I could tell you how brave she was, but you’re probably sick of hearing that. And you probably wish she hadn’t been so brave, anyway. I know I do.”
Ridley ran her thumb over the edge of a Lego, then pressed it into her palm. Softly, she said, “I really hate Joker. And I kind of hate her for going after him.” She looked into the turian’s face. “Didn’t she know I needed her? Wasn’t I more important than him? Wasn’t I more important than her stupid duty?” She almost spat the last word.
“I know,” said the turian, quietly. “I was mad at Joker, too. Still am. Should have followed orders, left his post – ah, but then, he loved the Normandy. I mean, loved it. Maybe almost as much as we,” he had to remind himself to use the past tense, as much as he hated it, “loved your mom. And he wanted to save it.”
“It was just a stupid ship!”
“Yeah, it was. He made a bad mistake. The worst. Your mom would have punched him in the face, if she’d . . . ah.” He took a breath and let it out. “And when she . . . when she died . . . as much as I missed her, I was also furious with her for being so damn brave. Because the galaxy was a better place with her in it. And I was a better man, for being her friend.” He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. “But there is something you need to know. She loved you. Maybe she didn’t know how to show it all the time, but you were more important to her than anything. Everything she did, as brave as she was, she did because of you, for you. So you could have a better life, a better future. So you could have hope.”
“But I needed her!” Tears were running down her face in tiny rivers.
“I know. But maybe . . . maybe she never understood that. Maybe she never believed that anyone needed her. Maybe she never believed that she was anything special. The best never do, I guess.”
She looked at him with an expression of equal parts bewilderment and despair.
“Maybe being brave,” he said. “And doing her duty, was her way of showing you how much she loved you. Maybe it was the only way she knew how.”
“Couldn’t she just tell me once in a while? Or just . . . be around?”
“For her, that might have been harder than charging into a thresher maw nest.”
“But she was supposed to be so brave. Why was it so hard to talk to me?”
“Well, there are different kinds of courage. Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t scared – it means you are scared, but you do what you’re afraid of anyway. Your mom wasn’t scared of taking a bullet, or getting a scar – so maybe it was easy for her to see everything as a battle. But just talking to someone she cared about, letting them see how much they meant to her . . . well, I don’t know, but I think that scared the hell out of her. And I know." He took a deep breath. "Because I'm the same way."
“I don’t understand her. At all.”
“I know. But I know you loved her. And I know she loved you. Maybe that’s what love is – just . . . trying to understand the people who are important to us. Even when they make no sense.” He sighed and picked up a Lego. “It’s not like these. I wish life could fit together as perfectly as these things do.” He looked at her. “She would have loved seeing you play like you did tonight.”
“I just . . . miss her.”
“I miss her, too.”
“I don’t know why I even miss her. She was barely around at all when I was little. I was always just a burden to her, like I was a duty.” She stopped and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Maybe I should have stayed a duty,” she muttered. “Maybe then I would have been more important. But then . . . when Momma . . . she talked my mom into letting me stay with them. And I started to think . . . I started to hope that maybe I wasn’t just a burden after all. Maybe we really could be a family. And maybe someday, I’d get to know her.” She looked at him, and he could see the pain crease her face as the tears started anew. “But now I never will.”
There was nothing he could think of to say, so he just enfolded her in his arms, feeling helpless to soothe this wounded girl. She sobbed into his shirt.
“We’d just started to –“ she sobbed. “I barely had her at all when I was little, and then we got this chance to be together, and now she’s gone! She cheated me out of herself! Because she made Joker, she even made strangers, more important than me! I’ll never know her, I’ll never know what’s it’s like to have my mom love me anymore! I’ll never know what it might have been like someday . . . and I’d just started to wonder what it could be like, growing up with her around . . . and now I’ll never know.”
And Garrus, his arms around Ridley, sobbed as well. Sobbed because he missed his friend, sobbed for the pain in this girl, and in Liara, and in the rest of the crew. Sobbed because they all had to carry on, without their friend and commander. And together, they cried . . . until at last, they fell asleep, their arms around each other, Ridley breathing deeply against the slow rise and fall of Garrus’s chest. And that’s how Liara found them when she returned, well after midnight. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of them, and a single tear fell from her eye, but she could not sob as they had, for the loss of Shepard and the need to be strong for Ridley had built a hardness around her heart. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes for a moment, then fetched a blanket and tucked it over them, the turian warrior and the human girl.
Liara went to bed, but she did not sleep for a long time.
