A small chip of concrete disappeared just behind the spot where Shepard's head had presented itself a second before. The distinctive blue tinge that accompanied the impact left no question as to the cause. Garrus always thought that the walls, themselves innocent participants of firefights zealously being fought around them, always turned in such a pretty shade of blue when things got heated enough for the people to bring out the big guns. This happened rather often on Omega… and even more so with him around.

At first he didn't recognize the face closing in on him across the bridge. His mind was focused on the mercs already inside the base, instead. Those poor bastards didn't have any real protection to speak of; none of them could afford it. But no... Those fighters out there seemed different... He knew that it was going to take something bigger than normal rounds to take them down the second he saw the armor-clad figures advancing on his position. "Shield emitters, use distruptor ammo. Ablative armor plating, try AP rounds, but gonna have to hit the neck seam..." He could remember his training by instinct. "What the hell…"

The world seemed to stop around him and for a split second time didn't exist. He'd heard rumors, but he has never given them much thought. Hell... he'd kept his identity hidden even from the team. Damn Sidonis to seven hells... No way could this be a trap. Those trigger-happy mercs probably didn't even have the brainpower to think about using his old friend to lure him out.

In a blink, a blue spot flowered on his helmet and violently yanked back his head. That made him regain his composure. No. It was Shepard. He was sure of it. And that could only mean one thing.

He picked up his rifle and started shooting.

It meant he was finally getting out of here.

"You nailed me good a couple of times, by the way", Shepard said, scratching his ear at the same time.

Garrus had had to, though. He knew the Suns had just as many guns pointed on the backs of their cannon fodder as they had on him. "Concussion rounds only... You'll live."

He still couldn't quite believe that the person standing there was his old commander... his friend.

It seemed like ages ago that he had watched from the escape pod as the Normandy's hull disintegrated in orbit, with Shepard still inside, lost somewhere between the girders.. And now he was standing there, not five feet away.

He didn't let himself slip, though. As much as he would have loved to, there was no time for reminiscing. What he saw on the holo-cams was disturbing enough. A sizeable merc team somehow found its way through the old environmental ducts, and he needed those shutters closed, else he'd soon sport some beautiful new holes in the back. He knew his rifle had to cover the bridge, so there wasn't really any choice left as to who should go. "Shepard, you get down there, I'll keep the bridge clear". "And take care of yourself", he thought to himself... First I lost a commander and then I lost a team... I'm not loosing any of them again.

"Archangel!"

Shit, the dropship! Should've seen it coming.

A barrage of metal stopped Garrus mid-thought as the bullets pounded his armor. He tried to reach the cover nearby only to be thrown back by the orange hail. "You think you can screw with the Blue Suns?"

A quick jape flashed through his mind: "Well, they certainly aren't as easy to screw as your mother was." One of the bullets pierced his armor and he felt a scorching pain in his hip. The force of the impact threw him on the ground. He managed to crawl behind the reinforced slab. He didn't know who he should thank more - the guy who taught Tarak how to shoot or the engineer who invented the impenetrable flower pots.

Crap. Can't stay here for long. Must move. Now.

His muscles tensed, he jumped from the cover...

... And the world went white.

"Garrus!"

Breathing was hard.

"We're... you out ... here, Garrus! Just..."

Words were faint...

"Radio... make sure... for us..."

Then there was nothing.

"Move! Get the hell out of the way!" Chakwas looked worried. Mordin looked worried. Since they were the best physicians in the galaxy, Shepard had more then enough reasons to be worried, too. They hurried straight towards the sickbay with Garrus' near-lifeless body in tow. God, Shepard hated elevators.

The gurney levitated through the med-bay doors but Chakwas stopped Shepard mid-step: "Best we take care of him now... Wait with the others".

There was nothing for him to do... Nothing to shoot, no-one to inspire and no-one to lead... Shepard did the only thing he could do.

Watching the small drops of blood pooling on the floor, he waited.

He liked listening to the hum of the drive core. He found the warm sound that resonated through the ship calming; it usually made his mind float. This was the first time in days that he had a quiet moment for himself, and yet he felt so anxious. He couldn't wait with the others... They weren't his old crew... Chakwas understood, and so did Joker. No-one else knew how good of a friend Garrus was... The turian was just a sniper in their eyes, an asset. When he looked at them he saw concern for himself, not for his comrade lying in the surgery with half his face torn off. Looking at those faces, he wanted to kick something in, but the aggression soon gave way to its worrisome counterpart... The med-team looked exhausted, and the best they could say was that "we'll have to wait and see." He couldn't blame them, though... He saw what the blast had done to his face. He knew that Garrus was a fighter, but the worried look on the Chakwas' face left him uneasy...

It was dark in the hallways. Auxiliary lights enveloped the ship in a dim glow only pierced by the sharp holo-interfaces. Since the bulk of Normandy's crew consisted of humans, a ship-wide biorhythm had to be kept in order for them to function normally. The ship was still manned by a skeleton crew, but most of the people on board slept in their quarters. His steps echoed loudly when he walked towards the sickbay. He couldn't sleep, nor did he want to. He needed to see what was happening with Garrus. Exchanging courteous nods with the attending medic, he strode to the bunks.

They had piled his armor on the floor, clearly in a hurry. There was still blood on it, smeared across the chest plate and covering the blue paint with now almost-black crust.

Shepard was a soldier... He'd seen death, he'd seen blood. He was a soldier, as tough as they come, and yet seeing the armor destroyed affected him in a way he never thought possible ever since the Blitz. Fighting the fear he felt festering within ever since the adrenaline rush had subsided, he glanced at Garrus lying on the bed, and the sight sent a chill down his spine. There was a metallic plate covering the right side of his face... A thin medi-foil sheet was draped haphazardly across his body, supposedly for keeping him warm... And yet Shepard could still see how violently the outline of his torso was shivering... It made him angry.

"What the hell? He was supposed to be taken care of, didn't anyone notice he's cold!" It was hard for him to regain composure, and that did not happen often...

"Sir, we've noticed, but... The scans show his internal temperature hovering stably at normal values. Also, there doesn't seem to be any nerve damage which would account for his trembling. Not even Dr Solus knows what's happening but his hypothesis is that the cause is purely psychological. We can't help him... We'll have to..."

"Wait and see, yes, I've heard that sentence one too many times today," Shepard barked back, feeling a bit sorry for the way he scolded the technician. "Go take a break, I'll watch his status for a while, but stay close, in case anything happens."

Shepard realized the crewman had already left the room only when he heard the pneumatic hiss of the closing doors. Watching Garrus shiver made him queasy... He sat at the edge of the bed, vigilantly observing his friend. Seeing the trembling under the foil even better from here, Shepard noticed that quite a lot of it had slipped from the turian, exposing his side to the cold air of the med-bay. Cussing at the crewman for not noticing it, Shepard carefully tugged the fabric so it would cover what was left in the open. Thinking he should get him out of the cold completely, he tried to move the gray hand under the sheet. Slowly touching the palm, he felt his skin rub against the warm hide that covered most of the alien body. Suddenly, Garrus' fingers clenched his own and surprisingly, the turian's trembling subsided a bit. In panic, Shepard tried to pull away but his friend held a tight grip. He didn't know how long he sat there... not long, most likely, but being there, with someone who needed him the way Garrus did, warped his sense of time. The shivering had almost completely disappeared, and now he could clearly see the foil slowly moving in a steady rhythm of breath. Garrus seemingly slipped from the delirium and his movements finally started to resemble something one might call a peaceful slumber. His fingers slightly loosed the grip, yet Shepard still held on.

The room was becoming brighter. At first it wasn't really noticeable. Shadows started to lose their black, turning into gray. Warm yellow night light slowly lost its hue, becoming whiter by the second. It wasn't until the main lights kicked in, though, that Shepard noticed the day cycle was beginning. Had he missed them, he couldn't miss the loud hiss that cut through the quietness of the room. He quickly tucked the hand below the foil and tried his best to look professional while doing it. The medic Shepard had sent outside god-knows-when stumbled through the door, spitting vitriol at himself. They exchanged confused looks. "I... I'm sorry. I seemed to have dozed off. Is the patient stable?"

"Garrus is fine, yes. At your post, and try to look awake when the doctor comes in." Still somewhat shaken from this disturbance, Shepard walked past the battered medic straight to his quarters. At least the poor guy won't tell anyone he saw him, though... He knew Chakwas; she'd have the head of anyone who dozed off while supposedly watching a critical patient. He threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes.

Sleep wouldn't come. His mind flashed with images from the hectic day he went through. Why did he care so much about Garrus? He'd had people take hits for him before, he'd seen good friends die and he always handled that with militaristic discipline that was required from commanders of the Alliance. Were these new emotions a side-effect of the Lazarus project? Miranda said they made him exactly as he used to be, but what if they got it wrong? Why was he so anxious? He kept tumbling in the bed, incapable of going to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw the bloody armor piled on the floor of the sickbay. Thrashing the pillows only served to shove an even bigger incoherent mess of thoughts through his brains and yet he slowly recognized the feeling that has been bothering him through the day. He couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but he found the word that best described what he felt... He was conflicted. But why did he feel conflicted even though there was absolutely nothing to be conflicted about? In theory, everything that happened was so damned textbook a rookie with psych 101 could've handled it. Though Shepard had to admit not many rookies were dead for two years.

Even though his mind was a whirlpool he kept returning to a single thought. An elusive, warm feeling that pervaded the storm of ideas blowing about his head... A thought he couldn't quite define and yet that felt so wonderfully serene. Trying to focus on it, he found himself calming down. His trashing subsided, his breathing slowed down, and he finally felt his body preparing for rest... Wanting to know what caused this sudden change, Shepard explored the feeling further, trying to feel for the images that he could connect with the golden strands in his mind. The warmth that faintly resonated in his memory creeped itself onto his palm. Suddenly, images started to fade in. First a shiny foil, moving in a breathing motion, after that something grey under his palm, on the same spot from which the warmth originated. And that feeling came with a leathery texture on his skin...

Pieces slowly started to come together and the revelation of what exactly brought him from the storm and calmed him to the point where he could relax would have undoubtedly shocked Shepard to his core… if he had had the luxury of realization, as by the time his subconsciousness took hold of the puzzle, his drained body was already fast asleep.

He slept well in the next hours, but when he woke, he couldn't recall his dreams.