A/N: This is a continuation of the "Never Did Run Smooth" AU, set during the timeframe of ME2.

"And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,

Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain;

Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,

How could I seek the empty world again?"

-Remembrance, Emily Brontë

Warning. Intruders nearby.

Garrus woke to the crackling of his makeshift alarm system. It was hardly reliable at best, made from parts of comms he'd salvaged from dead mercs, but it let him get a few minutes of rest here and there.

Or it would, if the mercs would ever stop coming.

Garrus knew they wouldn't – he'd knowingly pissed off enough mercenaries to fill a spaceship, and now they were teaming up with a collective vengeance he knew he couldn't beat. It was one of him versus a hell of a lot of them, and they were better armed.

"Nice work getting cornered in your apartment, huh, Vakarian?" Garrus commented dryly to himself, picking up his trusty rifle and heading to the second-floor window that served as his sniper's nest.

As he settled down into his familiar position, scanning for the mercs his alarm system had seen, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe, somehow, he had subconsciously let himself get trapped.

There was only so long he could fight alone before he got tired of it.

One of the mercs peeked around a corner, practically placing himself in Garrus's crosshairs. With the tired ease of days of practice, Garrus pulled the trigger, downing the merc and sending the man's comrades scrambling for cover.

Garrus lowered his rifle, waiting. Sooner or later they'd pop back out and meet the same fate as their friend. It was a cycle he'd been repeating over and over again for the past few days, and he was practically numb from it at this point.

He checked his ammo out of habit more than any actual concern – spirits, it was getting dangerously low. It was probably only a matter of hours now before he was out and this futile fight was finally over.

It was about damn time.

Garrus had never planned to go out, guns blazing, in a shithole like Omega. If he was ever going to die in a firefight, it was going to be by Jane's side, protecting her to the last. But then…

He stopped himself. No, even after all this time, he wouldn't – couldn't – let himself say it. He couldn't admit that Jane…

Another merc crept out of cover, and Garrus wasted no time spattering the man's brains against the wall. Anything was a welcome distraction at this point.

Even if it wasn't at Jane's side, Garrus had expected to die fighting alongside friends, at least. And for a while, he'd had them – his ragtag team of vigilantes, trying their damn best to clean up Omega – but even they were gone, too.

When he'd had his team, Garrus took a kind of sick pleasure in picking off mercs like this, honestly believing he was doing something good for Omega. Now, holed up alone with nothing but his rifle, he was just sick of it all. He was sick of fighting this futile fight, watching everyone he cared about die.

Idly, almost masochistically, his thoughts returned to Jane once more. What would she say if she could see him now, see him halfheartedly fighting a battle he knew he'd lose? She'd tell him, of course, to find a way out, not to throw away the fragile foundations of the life he'd begun to build after so many years a slave.

He snorted derisively at his own thoughts. He couldn't possibly be less interested in a life without Jane, if he could even call it a life.

It had been almost two years since he'd gotten the call, that horrible, horrible call. Joker had been on the line at first, babbling and sobbing incoherently. All Garrus had been able to make out was "Shepard," over and over and over. He knew something couldn't be right, but he had no idea just how wrong it was. Jane had just been on a simple mission, she had just gotten injured, or something – right?

Then Anderson had taken over, quietly explaining to Garrus that the woman he loved…

In almost two years, Garrus hadn't let himself think the word. But it seemed appropriate now, now that he knew he was about to join her.

…he finally had to admit that Jane Shepard was dead.

The thought sent a spasm of pain through his body, powerful enough that his finger slipped and wasted a shot into the floor below. Jane…Jane was dead. She really was dead and gone, and all the dreams the two of them had shared, all their hopes for a bright and happy future, had died with her.

Memories of her had haunted him for months, tormenting him with glimpses at the one thing he wanted, the one thing out of his reach. Garrus couldn't remember the last time he slept through the night without nightmares of her death jolting him awake. If he did get a full night's sleep, he would awake with tears wetting his cheeks from dreams of all the times they did get together.

The whirring of mechs became audible and Garrus sighed; now it really was over. He certainly didn't have enough ammunition left to handle mechs and mercs. This battle had officially become — what did Jane always call it? — his swan song.

He allowed himself a moment before the mechs came into view, just one more fleeting moment, to remember Jane one last time.

Garrus had always heard that your life flashed before your eyes before you died, letting you relive all your most important moments. He'd never realized before, though, how all of the important moments of his life had been measured by Jane Shepard.

He could still see her in the very first moment they met, that shining, beautiful moment that had changed his life forever. Spirits, how her hair burned like fire, how her eyes sparkled like jewels, how the air around her was charged with energy, as if to show just how important that little girl would grow up to be.

Garrus could almost feel the chilly wind against his face as he and Jane sat in the tree on the Shepards' farm their first night together. He could imagine, too, the warmth of Jane's blankets around him when she had let him sleep in her bed. Memories of Jane's whispers of, "Hey, Garrus?" were so vivid he could swear she was right there, beginning their friendship all over again with two simple words.

He could nearly taste the quarian delicacies he'd first been able to have on Jane's tenth birthday. Was it that moment, when Jane gave up everything a ten-year-old could for him, that he fell in love with her? He couldn't remember anymore what his food had been called, but he could still see her with that damn chocolate bar she'd bought, could feel the weight of the credit chit in his hand. She'd been grounded for a week after that, after her birthday, so she could help him. Garrus's stomach churned. Jane had made sacrifices for him her whole life, hadn't she?

The twisting in his stomach became more violent as the darker memories came rushing back. Jane's brutal beating when she'd rejected Derek…spirits, Garrus had never come so close to murder before that day. He could still see her body, frail and small and covered in blood and bruises. Had death been kinder to her, or had it left her just as small and broken before it took her from him?

How he wished he could've said goodbye.

Not that that ever made it easier. He remembered the look on Jane's face when she left for basic, and how he would've done anything to go with her. Garrus had never seen Jane so solemn before that moment…and it was the last time he saw her for years.

He didn't know how he made it through eleven years without her, not now, not when two years had broken him beyond recognition. Maybe it was knowing that Jane had been somewhere out there in the galaxy before, even if he would never see her again, that had kept him going. But now…what was the point of a galaxy without her?

A rush of joy flooded through him, just for a moment, as he remembered the first time he met Jane again on the Citadel. His heart had nearly burst when he saw her face. Though they were both older, wiser, and significantly more battered, it somehow seemed like hardly any time had passed since they'd been together. That was the way it had always been with Jane; they fit together so perfectly and easily that everything they did just seemed natural.

Garrus sighed, remembering the warmth of Jane's tiny body against his as they lay curled up on their first night together after a decade apart. Her breath, soft and gentle, had tickled his hands as he held her tight, reveling in being so close that he could hear her heartbeat.

They'd spent many nights together after that, during and after their mission. Somehow, in a cruel irony, things were more peaceful during the mission than after. Jane had horrible nightmares of the prothean beacon and of fighting Sovereign. She'd woken up screaming, drenched in cold sweat, more times than Garrus cared to count. It broke Garrus's heart — then, and even now remembering it — to see Jane so scared, in so much pain. He would spend hours calming her down, tearing her away from the phantoms only she could see and assuring her everything would be alright.

His stomach clenched as he remembered the most cruelly wonderful moments of his time with Jane: when they first consummated their relationship. It had been only a few days before she had left on her fateful mission…though Garrus cherished every memory he had with her, this one was the hardest to bear.

It had been yet another night broken by Jane's nightmares. As always, he had been there to bring her back to reality, but somehow that night was…different. He couldn't remember how they had gone from Jane trembling in his arms to...well, trembling, but for a very different reason. It didn't matter, though. Garrus could still see the flush in her cheeks, could still hear the way she moaned his name. Spirits, he hadn't thought it was possible to fall even more in love with her, but he had that night. He had learned then, hearing his name tumbling desperately from her lips, feeling her impossibly soft skin against his, that he would do anything, anything for her.

Here he was, he thought bitterly. Dying for her.

The mercs needed to hurry up, Garrus decided. As much as he treasured every moment with Jane, she was gone, and every memory of her only served to mock her loss and make him long for her even more. It was far more merciful to die of a bullet to the head than a broken heart, at least in his book. He was going to take as many of them with him as he could, but he was quickly losing his will to fight.

Garrus raised his rifle again, sighing, as some more mercs tried to sneak out of cover. He'd be out of ammo soon enough, and this would all be over. Finally.

He easily took down three more mercs before he had to pause once again to reload his trusty old gun. That was when he heard it.

Footsteps behind him, heading up the stairs.

So this was the end, Garrus thought bitterly. He quickly reloaded the rifle, suddenly determined to take even just one more merc with him, to make one more slimeball feel his pain.

"Archangel?" a female voice called.

He ignored the voice, leveling his rifle and easily dispatching an Eclipse soldier with a shot to the throat. It was only as he was searching for another target that it hit him.

He knew that voice.

It took every ounce of self-control left in his body to not whirl around. There was no way it could be, not again. Could it?

He took off his helmet to get a better look, turning to face the speaker. Sure enough, there she was, flanked by two humans he didn't know. She looked significantly worse for wear, her face marred by odd scars, but it was her.

It was Jane, his Jane, alive and well. Miraculously, against all odds once again, the woman he'd do anything for was standing before him, proud and confident and beautiful as a queen.

Despite their dire situation, Garrus smiled. He had gotten so lost in his musings and bitter memories that he couldn't even remember the last time he'd so much as cracked a smirk, but now, suddenly, all of that pain was gone. They were cornered by a horde of raging mercenaries, but they were together again, ready to fight side by side, as they always did.

As Jane and her squad moved to help defend Garrus's shitty little apartment from the mercs, Garrus could hardly take his eyes off Jane, afraid that if he looked away for even a moment she would disappear once again. Jane seemed to pick up on this during the firefight, offering him a teasing smile and a playful rebuke as they finished off the last of the mercs.

Spirits, he would kill a Reaper with his bare hands just to see that smile, and she offered it so willingly to him. He was the luckiest damn turian in the galaxy.

Suddenly, though, Jane's smile turned into a look of fear and she yelled something at Garrus, pointing behind him as she raised her gun. Everything felt like a dream to Garrus, like it was hard to move with any semblance of speed, and so by the time he had turned, he barely had time to see the rocket shot from the hovering gunship before it hit him.

Everything went dark and hazy; he was faintly aware he was on the ground. Something was damp and smelled of metal…was he bleeding?

Almost immediately Jane was by his side, her small hands clutching at his. She was yelling something at her teammates, but Garrus could hardly make out what she was saying.

"I'm right here, big guy," Jane's voice murmured in Garrus's ear after a brief silence. She had something pressed to his jaw, something stinging and painful, but her other hand remained tightly locked around his. "I'm never leaving you again."

Despite the haze and the stinging and the pain, Garrus made sure to preserve this memory as best he could. Someday, years from now, his life would flash before his eyes once again, and this was a moment he wanted to see again — the moment he got Jane back not just once, but a second time, and back from the dead no less.

He struggled to remain conscious, to take it all in, but his injuries were getting the better of him. As everything started to fade to black, he could faintly hear Jane insisting, "Garrus, hang in there. Please. I…I love you."

Despite the pain that enveloped him as he lost consciousness, Garrus knew that this was a memory he was going to treasure for the rest of his life.