Chapter Text
Most didn’t know that Purgatory hired professional dancers. They were to stimulate participation. An empty dance floor in a nightclub was a death sentence for any establishment after the Reaper war. It had been ten years but the effects were still visible. Each race had a diminished population and set hard rules about procreation and building numbers. Everyone had expected the Asari to be the quickest at reproduction but depending on other races to- who now were very protective of their own numbers- proved to be difficult at best.
Humans won the invisible race and multiplied the quickest and were now the most prolific. In purgatory they swarmed the place like flies. None of them had the appeal to Garrus the way Shepard had but he liked to drown in his own sorrow every once in a while. Some called him the creepy old Turian, space raptor with a staring problem or weird guy in the corner from those who didn’t care for racial slurs.
He didn’t care- so he sat watching them, drinking and hoping that he’d soon be numb. Once or twice he had taken a girl home, shown her his proficiency with a female Human's body but it was hardly satisfactory for him since most just laid there and got off on the fantasy of inter-species fornication. Sure, the Galaxy was closer together than it had been before the Reaper war- but the cost of ruthless calculus- as he had called it- was enough for most to slink to their corners to rebuild.
He finished this drink and waved at the bartender for another.
“Hey buddy. We got something special planned for tonight if ya stick around,” the bartender thought he knew he was partial to human women.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that? Varren in bikinis?”
The bartender laughed at him, “No, just wait. Here. This one is on me.”
Garrus nodded his thanks while the man helped another customer. It had taken five years to settle the Citadel back into it’s place. Another three to get it habitable for a select few and only in the last year were civilians allowed aboard it. An unfortunate side effect of Shepard’s work was that there was no one around that knew how to care for the giant station without the keepers. It was a nightmare to coordinate and dispatch. The amount of dead bodies alone were enough to cause a political shit storm.
Some wanted the station to become a memorial. A ghost in space. The amount of bodies were so large that some of them were still being found. People had climbed into vents, air ducts, keeper tubes that no one had ever seen before. The Turians and Humans cheer leaded the restoration of the Citadel. As such they had the most control of it, ushering in a brand new age of space politics that turned him sour. He was glad Shepard hadn’t had to witness it.
The lights suddenly dimmed and an announcer started shouting over the crowd of bodies that went from dancing to being confused and then excited.
“Ladies, gentleman. Next up on the grand stage is a special treat for all of us. She’s witnessed history unfold, revealed truths to us that saved our lives, she even told the old council to go fuck themselves!” Everyone cheered and Garrus stared down further into his drink, trying to ignore what was going on. His favorite thing to do was hide in a crowd, as everyone walked towards the main stage he realized he was the only one left at the bar. “Makes some noise for the Hero of the Citadel,” that caught his attention, “The Destroyer of the Collectors and Savior of the Galaxy!! COMMANDER JANE SHEPARD!”
The crowd went wild. Garrus squeezed his glass, he heard it cracking but didn’t realized he had broken it till the bartender approached him asking if he was just that excited. Garrus turned to look at him, stunned but angry. Then he turned back to the stage. A red-headed woman in a skimpy black tight suit with N7 plastered on both shoulders and when she turned around wiggling her ass she had them tattooed on her bare cheeks. He was furious.
Rage flooded his senses and he marched over to the stage, watching the woman prance around, jiggling her tits like they were water balloons. Or what Shepard had described as water balloons. He shouted over the jeering crowd of idiot humans. Nobody heard him, the woman didn’t let up her show- she was now crawling on the floor gyrating herself on an invisible pole. He got right up to the stage to get a good look at her. His heart stopped, her face was very similar to the one in his memories. She had freckles, green-hazel eyes and fierce determination that was close- but not completely- to Shepard’s. She was looking at him straight in the eyes, glaring a dare at him to come closer. She beckoned with her fingers and he was too mesmerized to disobey.
She dragged him on stage, barely able to crawl up fast enough. The announcer cheered him on, “Oh look! We have our very own Garrus Vakarian here to back up Shepard!” He startled at the sound of his name being announced over the loud speaker. A spotlight centered on him as she led him to lay down on the stage. She climbed atop him- straddling his waist- then kissed him gently on the mandible. Garrus was suddenly very drunk and disorientated. Starting up at Shepard again, watching her wiggle above him- his plates began to twitch and loosen.
It was no big deal, cause it was Shepard. His Shepard. His Commander.
He was blocking out the latest commotion that happened all around him, he didn’t notice all the active omnitool that were blinking red for recording or the whispers, cheers or shouts.
He just looked up and saw a very confused Shepard who didn’t know what to do now. So he reached up and pulled her down for a kiss. She resisted and slapped him hard. It became clear in an instant that this wasn’t what he thought it was and he looked around while the not-Shepard scrambled away from him, very angry and yelling at the DJ booth.
A couple of men came out and grabbed him by the shoulders to drag his useless and confused body away and behind a curtain. He was too drink to resist.
-----
He awoke in a c-sec cell, Bailey standing over him.
“Wake up Vakarian. There’s a Primarch looking for you. Says he wants to talk to about your “behavior” last night that’s circling the extranet.”
“What?” he was groggy and didn’t have a clue of what Bailey was going on about.
“Don’t remember eh? Here I’ll show you,” Bailey popped open his omnitools pressing a few buttons and the announcers voice came booming through his ears.
“Ladies and Gentleman, it seems we have the ACTUAL Garrus Vakarian here!” It followed with a few stunned words and then loud cheering and then it went quiet as he heard the smack that still reverberated in his aching skull. He remembered everything now, though he knew that he hadn’t heard the announcer realize it was really him when it happened. The memory of seeing Shepard above him had been all that he could recall.
“So you remember. Your boss ain’t too happy with you. Better get up and face the music.” Bailey laughed, “well face it again, I suppose.”
Bailey helped him off the cell floor, apparently he hadn’t even made it to the cot along the wall. Blood rushed into his head and he felt dizzy but Bailey caught him.
“I’m all right, it’s...fine.” was all he could mutter. Bailey nodded and led him out the door directly to Primarch Victus. The other Turian was fuming with the same rage he remembered feeling last night before he was hypnotized by the fake impression of his long gone love.
“Garrus, what in the spirits possessed you to pull a stunt like that?”
“Sir, I was intoxicated.”
“Obviously!”
“It won’t happen again.”
“No. It won’t. Your father- “
“Damn my father, it wasn’t intentional and-and-“ she looked just like her, I couldn’t help myself, I felt like I was in a biotic trance- was what he wanted to say as he trailed off.
“Of course it wasn’t intentional. Look I saw the video. The resemblance is uncanny but this isn’t appropriate for your station.” Victus lowered his voice to a soothing friend-tone that he was much more accustomed to.
“You’re right. It won’t happen again sir.”
“Lets go, the council is waiting.”
“What time is it?” he hadn’t meant to drink so much the night before but that melancholy took over and he was restless. The citadel always did that to him. Knowing that Shepard died here, that they never even recovered her body, thinking it was still in a keeper tunnel somewhere nobody had found yet. She was likely nothing but bones by now. It began to settle in him again and he frowned.
“I know it’s hard to be here. We’re going back to Palavan today after this meeting. Straighten up and shower and meet me at the Embassy’s in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”