Text in :::Italics and semicolons are memories::: Thank you to my great beta, Dr. Girlfriend!
Gunfire exploded from across the bridge. All of the ammo missed the turian by an embarrassing amount. Young men and women scuttled over the barrier and rushed toward the base, simultaneously arguing with each other about who would take point. Chuckling, Garrus looked through the scope, took aim and fired off a shot. With a satisfying crunch, it entered and exited the head of the mercenary in the lead. His companions froze as his body fell in a heap in front of them. For a moment they remained where they were and slowly looked to the other. Garrus cleared his throat to help them along and they dashed away in the opposite direction.
I'm a little bored dealing with amateurs, Garrus thought as he released the heat capsule from his rifle.
He reloaded and directed his scope down toward the warehouse floor. Dozens of bloody forms were strewn on the ground from the barrier across the bridge to the entrance. The bodies of a few of his former companions lay just below him, covered neatly in the protective tarp. So far, they hadn't been disturbed. What he wouldn't give to have just one of them with him now, fending off these impetuous idiots, more so for the company than the help. Loneliness had been creeping up into his heart and it was becoming harder to ignore. The absence of their laughter, their cheerful banter, weighed on him now.
He looked to his feet where a significant amount of thermal clips were ready to be loaded. If they wanted a fight, he'd give it them.
Garrus had already come to terms with the fact that he probably wasn't getting out of there alive. He felt the need to record a message so whoever found it would know that this wasn't the last stand of a psychopath. His father had even gotten a call, for closure. Their conversation had left a bad taste in his mouth. The older turian seemed to want to see him again. Garrus was realizing as the day went on how much he wanted the same thing, but the prospect was unlikely. The Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack had teamed up to come after him. If they were this pissed, they weren't likely to let him go alive.
He waited for a while longer, keeping his gun at the ready, but it seemed they needed more time to regroup. For the past few hours, the merc groups had been sending inexperienced gunmen after him as bullet fodder. This probably meant they were working on a plan and were holding on to their more experienced members for the final push.
Allowing himself a moment to relax, Garrus dropped down from the cargo he had been squatting on and sat back against the ledge. The joints in his legs seized a little as he extended them to the floor. It had been a while since he had to hold that position for that long.
Garrus downed the last of his energy drink and tossed it in the small heap forming next to the garbage can. They were poor substitute for stims, but the once bountiful supply had long since run out. If the mercs didn't kill him, he feared exhaustion might.
Suddenly realizing the playlist in his visor had ended, he tapped his omnitool awake and restarted it. The heavy beat of the music crashed in. He would frequently have the playlist going throughout the base on days when the crew came back discouraged by a botched mission or recon. Though it wasn't a cure, it tended to lift their spirits a bit.
He was in the bunk area where everyone in the crew slept. It was a mess, for the most part. They were an organized bunch when it came to raiding merc parties, but no one could get a handle on keeping the base tidy. Monteague and Mierin were the youngest in the group and tended to assume others would clean up for them. Of course, no one did. It had sparked a few arguments, but no solution ever came of them.
The place still held the lingering smell of the last dinner they had there; a levo fried earth meat called chicken with veggies for those who could partake and a devo sweet and spicy stew. Ripper wasn't the best cook but she did pretty well with the rations they got. He could almost visualize her now, approaching him apprehensively with a warm plate. Had she always been so shy around him? The quarian was pretty talkative, but froze up whenever Garrus entered the room. Weaver had suggested she was just afraid of turians, but she had been pretty comfortable with Sidonis.
Don't go there. Focus. He gripped his gun to help steady his anger. Wherever the hell he was, the other turian was probably desperately hoping Garrus wasn't going to make it through this firefight. He almost wanted to promise himself that he wouldn't die to these idiots just to get a chance to tear the rat apart. If the mercs didn't kill him, Sidonis was going to be Garrus' next pet project.
He heard shouting from below. A larger group was coming from across the bridge. Garrus pushed himself from off the floor, keeping his head low, and looked through the rifle's scope. He was fully expecting to see another amateur squad approaching and was ready to pick them off pretty simply.
Suddenly, one of the chemical canisters exploded, tossing freelancers and their detached body parts into the air. Garrus had to duck to avoid the shrapnel. The building rumbled for a moment as the aftershock washed over all the containers.
What the hell?
He adjusted his scope to the warehouse entrance. Three oddly dressed mercs were approaching, their guns ready to fire not up at him, but at anyone else still in the lower levels. One of them carelessly kicked a salarian's arm aside. He took aim at that one's head and began to squeeze the trigger.
He flinched the barrel away just in time. The shot slammed into their shoulder, making the shield flicker for a moment. There was an N7 logo on the breastplate of their armor.
"Blue Suns approaching from the rear," called the salarian in the group.
Garrus recognized him from reports about the virus going around. He had started a clinic in the quarantine zone with the intention of curing the plague. The other companion was a human female wearing a ridiculously close-fitting Cerberus get-up. This situation was getting stranger by the second.
Despite their random arrangement, they worked excellently together. Each of them seemed to have professional training. The other mercs were dropping like flies. This was a squad that was a lot more experienced than the ones that had been coming down the bridge all day. The female in the N7 gear was dashing around in a familiar way, lobbing biotic blasts from behind cover and sending mercs flying.
It couldn't be...
:::A peal of laughter echoed up to him from the wreckage below. She ascended the fallen bulkhead with ridiculous bravado; her arms at her sides as her biotics lifted her from the hole, a huge grin plastered on her face. Garrus rushed toward her. With another laugh, Shepard collapsed on to him, energy spent.:::
Once the room was clear, the one Garrus had almost killed undid the latches on her helmet and pulled it off with a groan. A lock of her once tightly bound bun was stuck in the seams. She spent a moment trying to awkwardly walk to the stairs and untangle herself at the same time. Her dark brown hair began falling down around her face and shoulders.
:::Her hair was sticking to the blood and sweat around her temples. Shepard looked up at him, amber eyes huge and bright, and said, "That was...fucking awesome!":::
Garrus went numb all over.
Spirits...
The ghost of Commander Alex Shepard was walking toward him. It had to be a ghost. Or a hallucination brought upon by sleep deprivation.
:::"Can I sleep now?" She asked as if she needed permission.
"Go ahead. I've got you.":::
Something moved in the far corner. Garrus shifted the barrel and saw the shivering foot of a lone freelancer that had gone unnoticed.
"Archangel," said Shepard from behind him.
He held up his hand. The merc had started to creep from out of his hiding spot. Garrus shot him square in the face.
Shepard began to say something, but cut herself off. Instead, she gave a quiet, nervous laugh.
Garrus paused before turning to her. If he looked and she wasn't real, if it wasn't really her, he wouldn't know what to do. For weeks he heard false reports of her body being found. And then, like a cruel joke, the reports abruptly ended. The most noble woman he had ever known just ceased to exist. Every inch of him had mourned her passing.
What he had missed most was her laugh. So easily produced; anything could amuse her. He had found himself making corny jokes in his head that he knew she would appreciate and played back her unique cackle to drown out the silence. Her memory had kept him company long before anyone on Omega had. It was a complete shock to his system just hearing her voice now.
With effort, he moved to the stack of nearby cargo containers. He brushed off the food wrappers and cans and sat down, removing his helmet in the process.
"Shepard?" he said as he took a seat. "I thought you were dead."
Shock washed over Shepard's face. Her jaw hung open as she took him in. Those terrifyingly bright hazel eyes looked him up and down as if she could barely believe he was real.
The feeling's mutual.
With little grace, her mouth clamped shut into a huge smile. She walked toward him with her arms held wide as if she were about to hug him. She seemed to think better of it a second later and dropped them. The smile remained, though.
It was a relief to see the genuine happiness in her eyes. The last time they had seen each other, his words hadn't been kind.
"Garrus, what are you doing here?" Shepard asked incredulously.
"Target practice."
She gave him a half hearted grin at this, but her eyebrows rose, concerned. Scars on her cheeks flared red. Had those always been there?
"Are you okay?"
Garrus realized how tired he must sound. "I've been better. I'm going to do a lot better now that you're here. That is, if you're here to help, not collect a bounty."
"How did you even end up in this situation? There are three merc groups after you right now, you know that?" She seemed impressed.
"You help me out of here, and I'll explain it. It's a...long story."
"There are mechs coming," said the other human, stepping forward. She nodded to the bridge. Several weapon wielding robots were making their way across the barrier.
"Looks like they're getting tired of wasting lives here," said Garrus. He aimed his weapon's scope on the intruders. "I've been expecting a bigger push."
"Well they're bringing it. They're planning on bringing in a gunship once the way is clear. It's not in the best working order, though," Shepard said with a smirk. "Mordin, Miranda, take positions in front of the stairs. I'll take point." She turned to Garrus as her squad hurried to the lower level. "Are you going to be alright up here?"
Garrus hunched down and popped off a shot. A mech collapsed as it was leaping on to the bridge.
"I've been handling myself so far."
"You shot me," Shepard said in a low voice, edging toward him.
"It was my way of saying good to see you." He flared his mandibles as he smiled. Shepard smiled back.
"When we get out of this, I'm gonna need your help with some stuff," she said as she wrapped her hair back into a bun. "There may be a little danger, lots of killing, saving the galaxy. Ya know, the usual. You up for it?"
:::"I can't stay on this ship chasing ghosts and lost causes, Shepard. Real work needs to get done and you know it."
"I'm trying! You can't see that's what I'm doing?" Her voice caught in her throat. She was trying and failing to hold her rage back.
"I don't know what you're doing, but whatever it is isn't worth a damn. These are not the actions of a commanding officer confident in her work.":::
"Garrus?"
Her voice lifted him out of his memories. She was looking up at him expectantly. He wasn't alone in remembering that fight. Shepard was searching his face to see if he still held a grudge.
With a shrug, he said, "Eh, why not? I could use some more excitement in my life."
With another big grin, she made her way to the stairs, shoving her helmet back on and slamming the top with her fist to lock it in place.
"Let's kick ass, Vakarian!" she called to him.
"Just like old times."