"I'm on it Sheperd. We'll find you the primarch."
His voice is deeper, rougher and melodic like the ocean beating against rocks. She is frozen with surprise and swept away with relief she didn't know she was waiting for. Since the reapers hit Earth she hadn't even had a moment to herself to send him a message or make that call. Every now and then she had caught herself white knuckles and hoping he was alright.
In her heart she knows that no matter what, Garrus will always come back to her. He is loyal and in love with her. Some mornings she is the reason he wakes and the reason for his every breath.
"Garrus!" She is happy. His name feels so right on her lips, like being welcomed home.
When they shake hands he is rigid, wanting to hold her and comfort them both but they have work to do. He misses the way she feels against him.
Later aboard the Normandy she smiles at how charmingly unsure he is. He wants her, wants to be with her, but he leaves the decision in her hands. If the war is too much he will understand and support her. Mid sentence she kisses him and he is once again her Turian. He makes a joke about the scars and promises to see her later.
Her cabin is much unchanged. The model ships have found their shelves and her hamster is back in the cage. She has fallen asleep with a data pad in hand. He moves quietly to her and untangles her limp fingers from the object. She stirs, mumbling his name.
Garrus picks her up to carry her to the bed. She is thinner than he remembers and lighter in his arms. Still, her body is all muscle and sinew and soft in all the right places.
"Let's get you into something more comfortable," he croons.
She is mostly awake now but still nestled against his chest.
"I missed you," she whispers.
"What are the chances that this whole galaxy is going to hell and we still find each other?"
She sprawl across the bed after stripping her uniform off. Her hair is longer now as it fans around her. As he sits on the side of the bed and drinks her in, he has that feeling again, of belonging.
She doesn't know that his visor now has her name etched into it just as he doesn't know she kept the bottle from their first night together on the old Normandy. There are so many unspoken things between them. Maybe there will never be enough time or the right words to articulate the meaning of these small sentimental things, but it makes the distance seem so much smaller when they are apart.