Chapter Text
Garrus glanced around their home, holding an empty crate, unsure of where to start. They’d already had their essentials sent ahead to the new house (dishes, bedding, clothes, towels, and other such items that they wouldn’t want to dig through boxes to find when they were starting the process of settling in). What remained were those significant objects that had a way of accumulating on shelves, on tables, and inside drawers. Those things that served no purpose but to mark a memory or imprint the personalities and values of the occupants upon a space. Photographs, momentos, and what Shepard called knick-knacks. The things they could never bring themselves to throw away. All precious even as they collected dust or were forgotten behind everyday things. He hadn’t quite been aware of how many significant objects they’d accumulated over the years until the practical items had been boxed and shipped. But now he stood in a home where nothing but sentimentality remained, and it still looked surprisingly full.
Garrus’ chest tightened at the task in front of him, already feeling the initial waves of nostalgia and melancholy as his eyes skated over framed photographs of their family and friends, a charred bit of Shepard’s old armor, Nova’s biotiball trophies…. He picked up his old visor from where it was displayed on a shelf next to books that had once belonged to Anderson. He turned it over and wiped away dust that obscured the eleven names he’d carved as memorials to the people he’d lost, the people he’d failed. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Shepard’s name had been the first, the wobbly script carved with hands trembling in the early throws of broken-hearted grief. What had been a memorial became a promise to fight as hard as he could to keep her alive, to help her shoulder her destiny, and to be the best version of himself that she saw in him. Later he’d added to that vow a promise to love and support her through the more mundane turns their life had taken, to build a life with her in this new galaxy they’d fought, and bled, and sacrificed for. He nodded and released a shaking breath as he wrapped the visor and placed it in the box.
Garrus turned his head at the sound of their long distance comm chiming. “Incoming communication from Castis Vakarian, Palaven,” announced the VI. Garrus patched the signal through his omnitool and answered. “Hey, Dad,” he said.
“Garrus,” came his father’s gravelly tones with a bright subvocal hum underneath. “I wasn’t sure I’d catch you.”
“Just doing some packing,” Garrus said, picking up a rough clay sculpture of a rachni Nova had made when she was eight years old.
“You and Cassidy are all over the news. Again.”
He was aware. Their surprise retirement announcement was the newest galactic obsession. Of course it was really more Shepard that the galaxy was preoccupied with than him. Even with the prediction that Garrus would eventually be offered the Primarch’s seat (an offer which he would reject, much to the horror of his scandalized people), as far as non-turians were concerned, most of his fame was by way of his association with Shepard. Yes, he’d spent the last 16 years in charge of a sizeable chunk of the turian fleet in coordination with the combined fleet— the largest military force since the fall of the Prothean civilization— but Shepard was the one the galaxy saw as their defender, their hero. And the thought of losing her from that role had practically everyone in a state of hand-wringing anxiety. “I hope the press isn’t hounding you too much for the inside scoop,” Garrus said to his father as he wrapped the rachni sculpture and placed it in the box.
Castis snorted. “After you saved the galaxy, I installed a VI specifically dedicated to screening out calls and messages from reporters and journalists.”
“Smart.”
“I imagine Nova is probably hosting daily press conferences in her training squadron.”
Garrus cringed. “Yeah, it’s come up. She’s used to it, but I think part of her was hoping that being on Palaven would get her some distance from Cass’s fan club.” In reality, Cassidy’s fame was no less on Palaven than on the Citadel, but Garrus’ fame was considerably greater on his homeworld. Instead of only fielding questions about her legendary mother, Nova was being harassed for details about both of them. Garrus shrugged to himself. At least if people were eager for the latest gossip about her family they weren’t likely to give Nova a hard time for being a human hybrid.
“She should be proud,” Castis said, his own voice puffing up in pride. “Duty, service, sacrifice, and heroism are in her blood. Her peers will honor her for that.”
Garrus nodded. They would. But it was also a lot to live up to. As a young adult, he’d struggled under the shadow of his family name, which had been considerably less notable at the time. Granted he’d eventually managed to exceed any other Vakarian’s standing in the meritocracy, but still, he could remember the shame he’d felt when working in the military and C-SEC, knowing that he wasn’t measuring up. On the other hand, there had been something freeing about being the disappointing scion of the Vakarian family; once he’d accepted that he couldn’t measure up, he didn’t have to keep trying. He hoped Nova figured that out quickly. She’d come into her own one day, but no fifteen-year-old in the universe could live up to the example Shepard had set. Not even a person as remarkable as Nova.
“I spoke with the Primarch this morning,” Castis continued. “He’s not pleased with this retirement business, you know. He said he offered you the whole damn fleet, and you turned him down.” There was a distantly familiar edge to his father’s tone, and Garrus almost laughed at the fact that, despite his standing in the Meritocracy, he was still managing to find ways to disappoint his father.
“That’s right,” Garrus said, unbent by his father or the Primarch. He’d have thought they’d be used to his distinct lack of ambition by now. “The last thing I want is a job with more work.”
“Still… refusing the Primarch…”
Garrus wrapped up a model of the Normandy SR-2. “He knew I would.” The only reason Garrus had accepted the promotion to General in the first place was because it was the rank he needed to support Shepard’s role as Admiral of the combined fleet. And as Shepard’s biology made summers on Palaven a no-go (even Nova would have to serve off-world during those blistering hot months), he wasn’t about to accept a relocation to his homeworld, even if he’d been interested in the job Victis had offered, which he wasn’t. No, let other turians chase after honor and advancement. His greatest ambition for his life was to spend it with Shepard. “The Primarch knows where my priorities are. Always has.”
“Yes,” Castis grumbled. “And Cassidy is really ready for this? Being at ease?”
Garrus looked up as Cassidy entered the room holding a box of odds and ends she’d packed in their bedroom. “I’m ready,” she said loudly enough for Castis to hear, and a little wearily, before setting the box down on the floor.
Castis snorted. “Forgive me, my dear. I just don’t believe I’ve ever seen you stop.”
“It happens now and then,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “But I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep busy.” She gave Garrus a smirk and a wink.
“Such as giving me more grandchildren?” Castis said with a little hopeful flange beneath his words.
Cassidy rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen.
“It’s an… ongoing discussion,” Garrus said.
“Well, you’ll certainly have the time for it now,” Castis muttered. “With these nanosynths, I wonder if that will be the new norm soon: waiting until retirement to have a family. It’s essentially how the asari do it. They work through their maiden years and matriarch years, and focus on family in the middle during their matron years. Not a luxury the rest of the galaxy had until now.”
The thought appealed to Garrus, but he could hardly blame Shepard for being resistant after everything that had happened with Nova’s birth. Still, he wondered if finally having a quiet life, free of danger, major stress, and an entire galaxy depending on her might make Cass more open to the idea of having another child. Either way, he was eager to enter the next chapter of their life together, whether it held the chance to continue to grow their family or adventures just for the two of them. What mattered most was that they’d get to experience it together.
“Look, Dad, we’ve got a lot of packing to get done before we leave…” Garrus said, tiring of his father pressing promotions and reproduction. “Can I give you a call in a few days? After we’ve had a chance to settle into the new place a bit?”
“That’s fine, Garrus,” Castis said. “But Victis can’t wait for long to fill that position. General Xerestes is due to stand down in six months. If you’re going to change your mind…”
“I won’t.”
“...you better do it soon.”
“ Goodbye , Dad.”
“Goodbye, Son. Good luck with the move. Give my best to Cassidy.”
“I will.”
The call ended, and Garrus resumed packing up the contents of the shelf. “Dad sends his best,” Garrus called out.
“Mmhmm,” Shepard replied. “Tali just messaged me. She says she needs both of us to help sort through some things at the office at 19:15.”
“Hmm. Surprise retirement party?” he asked, placing some photographs of baby Nova in a box.
“I’m sure.” Shepard entered the living room with a tired smile. “She told me to ping her when we’re on our way. Should I take her for a ride and tell her tomorrow morning would be better?”
He laughed lightly. “Nah, she’s under enough stress facing the prospect of trying to fill your shoes.”
Shepard shrugged and began helping him pack up the shelves. “She’ll do fine.”
He nodded. She’d be great. After 15 years of working closely with Shepard, commanding the engineer core and the Quarian wing of the combined fleet, and filling in for Shepard whenever needed, Tali was absolutely the best person to take over. She wasn’t quite the wide-eyed kid she’d been back when he and Shepard had rescued her from Fist’s thugs. Just as he’d grown out of his own hot-headed, rebellious, awkward youth, Tali had come into herself under Shepard’s influence and inspiration. Cass had a way of helping people realize their potential.
Cassidy picked up the charred bit of chest plate from its place on the shelf. Garrus realized he'd been avoiding packing it himself, wrapping and boxing every object around it, but leaving the scrap of armor untouched. Liara had taken it in remembrance of Shepard when she’d recovered her body for Cerberus almost twenty year ago. She’d given it back to Cass just after the war, as a reminder that wounds heal. For Garrus, however, it was an unsettling reminder of the darkest period of his life: the years when he’d thought he was living in a galaxy that Shepard was no longer a part of. Her bright star had gone out, but he’d somehow kept going. Garrus shivered at the power that memory still had over him. Cassidy, on the other hand, looked calm and contemplative as she stared at the piece of polymer-coated metal, running her thumb over the heat-blistered paint. A soft smile crossed her face. As she reached for a piece of omni-wrap and packed away the chest piece. “We’ve been through a hell of a lot,” she said.
“Yeah,” he agreed with more weight. “It’s still hard to wrap my head around how much.”
She reached up and stroked the faded scars on his face. “I’m grateful for it, though,” she said. “All the curves that brought us to this point.”
He held her hand to his cheek. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She’d always been worth every heartbreaking moment, every spirit-shaking second of fearing that he could lose her. It had been a long while since he’d last had good reason to worry about her. But he still did now and then. For old time’s sake.
It took a few hours, but they finished packing up together. The house, so recently full, now looked as it had the first day he’d stepped inside, unsure if he could convince his stubborn spouse to agree to move in. The movers would be there in the morning to take the boxes to the transport ship, and Garrus and Shepard would leave for Earth that afternoon. For now, they sat on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, between stacks of boxes, leaning against the bare wall of their home. Garrus opened the small bottle of champagne he’d been saving for this moment. All their glasses had been packed and shipped, but as Shepard occasionally reminded him, she wasn’t fancy and didn’t mind drinking from the bottle.
“To taking a well earned rest together,” he said, raising the bottle.
She bumped her knuckles to the neck of the bottle and said “clink.”
He took a swig and handed the bottle over to her. She took a sip before setting the bottle on the floor and taking his hand.
He looked around at the space, taking in the stillness of their arrival at another bridge between an ending and something new waiting to begin. “It’s been a damn good ride,” he said.
She laughed through her nose. “The best.” Her omni-tool chirped alerting them to the time. She silenced it and sighed. “Time to go pretend to be surprised,” she said gave his thigh a squeeze. “You ready, big guy?”
He nodded, rose to his feet, and gave Shepard a hand up. “With you, I’m ready for anything,” he said.
Shepard gave him a melancholic smile and headed for the door.
Garrus followed a step behind. The door opened at Shepard’s approach and she stepped over the threshold, patting the arch of the door frame as she went through. Garrus looked over his shoulder one last time at the home they’d shared and the full life they’d lived there, before meeting Shepard’s outstretched hand, waiting for him on the other side.