Since the spring of 2185, Sayn wants two things.
One, he wants control of Eclipse. Two, he wants to figure out the best way to make that bastard Archangel pay for killing his brother Jaroth.
And in the fall of 2186, in the span of two days, just forty-eight little hours, Commander Shepard hands him both.
Sayn will make sure Archangel regrets saying those words - I need you - surrounded by a handful of mercs, for the rest of his life.
The Reaper war is over.
Instead of being hailed a hero, Shepard is an easy target. She is the one that took too long to bring everyone to the table. She is the one that wasted time searching for banners and books and artifacts on planets already lost.
She is the one that made deals on the behalf of the Alliance that the brass said she had no right to make.
Like the one with Aria T'Loak.
Everyone said Aria would stab Shepard in the back as soon as she had the chance.
Hindsight is a bitch.
They are on Omega.
Garrus doesn't want to be here. There are too many memories, too many ghosts. But as much as he doesn't want to be here, he wants to be at Shepard's six more.
Even with the mud flung at her on a daily basis, Shepard still wants what's best for the galaxy. And what the galaxy needs is peace, something Shepard is determined achieve whether they want it or not.
They are on their way to a parlay - what Garrus considers to be a fancy word for trap - at Aria's request. The Council is willing make concessions to Aria, if only so the fighting stops. Worlds are ravaged. Only half the relays are working and there's not enough food to fill every belly.
When the first bullet hits Shepard in the shoulder, her cry keeps Garrus from hearing his omni-tool's low tone beep, warning him a program has been installed without his knowledge.
Aria has lost control.
The Alliance doesn't know because she doesn't want them to know. But she sits on her couch, knowing she no longer has a hold on the mercs.
Her plan is in tatters because they're obsessed with revenge. When the mercs had more important things to fight, like husks and harvesters, she managed to keep them in line. Now? With the galaxy crumbling and power available to anyone foolish and brave enough to snatch it up, Aria's dream of turning the Terminus System into another Omega slips through her fingers, like water seeping through the cracks.
Damn mercs and their revenge plots.
Damn them all.
They fall into a familiar pattern.
Shepard picks up her SMG, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and starts to gather the mercs charging her. Garrus crouches in cover in the back, with the reassuring sound of the Black Widow reloading again and again and again.
Her tech armor is waiting, ready to detonate on Garrus' trigger. They learned long ago that his view of the battlefield gave him a better idea when to set the armor off. So in her first act of trust after waking in a Cerberus lab, she gave Garrus her armor's control.
Here on Omega, Shepard has five men around her, all ready to pounce. She tries to remember to breathe, because she never likes being boxed in. Just when she's ready to release a warp, to give herself an escape route, she hears the familiar buzz from her armor, ready to explode and take these assholes with it.
She sees a flash of light and her skin is on fire.
She blacks out and hits the ground with a thud.
Shepard is burning.
Garrus allows himself two seconds of panic, wondering how her tech armor imploded instead of exploded. But that two seconds is enough for the tranquilizer dart to bury itself in his neck.
When she wakes, everything hurts.
She's curled up in a ball and her fingers graze charred skin. Her armor is in the corner and Shepard wonders who took it off of her battered body.
A familiar thrum, one she only hears late at night when he's asleep and she's not, soothes her. He's in the corner, standing up, his chin tucked into his cowl.
Shepard takes stock of the small dingy room - a prison cell most likely - to find any obvious escape routes. There are none.
Her stomach growls.
She is a biotic.
And she is starving.
A creak at the door catches their attention.
A meal slides through the small hole. Shepard pounces - she's hungry, she's so hungry - but realizes the food is not for her.
She tells him to eat, one of them needs their strength, after all, but she turns away as he does and tries not to listen as he chews.
Everything hurts. The tech armor ripped through her shields, through her actual armor, leaving charred burns on her shoulders and belly and across her breasts. No doctor has come to see her, even though Garrus yelled through the door for more than an hour that she's feverish.
They have no omni-tools or weapons. They took Garrus' visor. But they do have their armor. Garrus manages to fix the medi-gel dispenser on hers and that brings some relief. Her fever goes down but does not break.
And meal after meal arrives with no levo food in sight.
Sayn discovers he has no stomach for torture.
He's an engineer; he kills at a distance and preferably, doesn't have to kill at all, letting his drones and turrets do the dirty work for him.
She's fading faster than he thought, but not fast enough. Sayn thought he'd enjoy every moment of her suffering because Archangel made it clear her suffering is his. But as he watches the vid screen of their surveillance, he just feels sorry for them both.
Archangel at least gave Jaroth a quick death.
A bullet between the eyes does that to a person.
He is going to lose her.
Garrus wants to keen at the unfairness of it all, that they could both live through the war, completely intact (almost intact, thinking of his new artificial hip) only to lose her now.
Six days have passed according to his clumsy tracking. It's impossible to believe that they haven't been found and yet… They haven't been found. The Alliance sent Shepard to Omega. They know she is here. Unless this is their plan. Discredit Aria and make a martyr out of Shepard with one fell stroke.
He believes Hackett is ruthless enough to do that.
She doesn't.
And because her fever is back, the medi-gel gone, and she hasn't eaten in six days, Garrus tells her she's right.
She can picture their child so clearly.
Shepard wants to tell Garrus about her. Starts to. But his subvocals sound so sad when she does she stops. Instead, she closes her eyes and pictures the gangly turian girl with brown eyes like hers but wearing the markings of Cipritine.
The child walks between them - one hand in each of theirs - on the beach. And Shepard isn't able to hide her smile as Garus introduces their daughter to Mordin.
Her eyes rarely open now.
But each time they do, Garrus tells her he loves her. If Shepard is going to die in this Spirit-forsaken place, let her at least die knowing without doubt she is loved. He whispers of all those who care for her already waiting up at the bar and someday, he'll be up there, too.
Eight days have passed.
The door hasn't opened once.
Until now.
Garrus wants to pounce, take the this opportunity to slip on the Archangel mask and damn the consequences. But Shepard is in his arms, sleeping. So instead he looks up and tries to glean as much information as he can.
A salarian stands in the doorway. Garrus can't see his face in the shadow. But can see the man holds a pistol. And it only take a moment for Garrus to realize it's pointing at him, not Shepard.
He keeps his eyes open; he's walked in death's shadow too long for him to be anything other than a friend.
A shot rings out.
And the salarian falls.
Jimmy Vega takes Shepard from his arms.
His insignia says N3, and Garrus sees the difference it makes in him: he stands straighter and the mohawk is gone. As he places Shepard onto a stretcher, he shouts orders and the other Alliance soldiers follow without hesitation.
There is no doctor, only a paramedic and she works frantically, injecting Shepard with drugs. Thanks to Shepard, Garrus can read the woman's face clearly and the news is not good.
Garrus does the only thing he can think of. He takes Shepard's hand and begins to pray.
It worked for his father and sister, perhaps the Spirits would be generous enough again.
But then Shepard's chest stops rising.
She is loved.
Of this she is sure.
Shepard walks into the nameless room and Bakara is there, surrounded by half a dozen fat krogan babies. Shepard's heart clenches and she curses herself yet again for not saving the data from Maelon's experiments. Maybe then Wiks could have saved Bakara's life.
Thinking of the turian girl with the knobby knees and wrists, Shepard leans down to pick up one of the babies.
Bakara stops her and hands her a crystal instead. The weight is heavy in Shepard's hand but she understands.
She is not ready to die in a cave.
The paramedic is rhythmically pounding Shepard's chest.
Garrus grips Shepard's hand, memorizing her face, preparing himself for the worst. He refuses to keen, not here, not in public. His cries will be for his ears alone.
But then the unexpected happens.
Shepard takes a breath.
Garrus drops to one knee, scared to let himself hope.
And continues to pray.
Shepard is tired.
She feels Garrus' bare hand surrounding hers and turns her head. Her vison is blurry, but she she can still read the fear mixed with dreams in his eyes. He wore the same look on top of the Presidium.
Her voice is hoarse and exhausted as she says, "I'm ready for that beach, Vakarian. You?"
She needs no other answer as he brings her palm up to his mouthplates and lets his mandibles spread out in a smile.