I apologize if this is not my best piece of writing. I had to write something or else I would go CRAZY! You know what I mean? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it none the less and please review! Thank you for taking the time to read this story. ~ livelaughluvmusic

Give me a damn break!

Garrus was used to being pissed at injustice but this time the untruthful and injust had been laced into his own team. He gripped his sniper rifle even harder at the thought; he could see the bones inside his knuckles pound against his armored hand. People tried to good in the world, Shepard had tried to generate more good in the galaxy and all she got was a sulking crew and a wreath surrounding her flag-draped casket. She had deserved better, deserved a better life and a better remembrance of her legacy.

Shepard.

He constantly wanted to turn around and toss a thermal clip across the room. Who knew, maybe if he did it often enough she would turn up, just to catch it. She would scold him right now, if she could, if she was still here, for being so angry and grim. God, if she was here he would rip his own helmet off his head and toss it to her. She never wore a helmet even when he had stolen her N7 helmet from her locker, put a bow on it, and threw it back in. She had always worn black armor as if it had grown hands and grabbed her skin, forbidding her from scraping it off her body. The black inbedded in his own armour was a small testimony.

It helped to think about Shepard, especially now that he might join her in the veil beyond his steady, rifle gripping hand. His teeth yelled at him as he fired another round. He was getting weaker, his skin feeling the effect more and more.

Give up! Don't you want to see Shepard?

The thought had been screaming in his mind since the first hour of the first day, since he had been couped up here. The thoughts never ceased, the bullets never ceased, the plans for vengeance on Sidonis never ceased. That bastard! He had left good men to die just so that he- one pathetic example of life- could live. It was then that Garrus decided he was cursed. Every times things started to get bright it would grow darker than it ever had before.

Are you going to live when your entire team is dead?

He looked down the scope of his sniper rifle as his thoughts poisoned him. The truth was, he wasn't even sure if they were his thoughts or the fatigued thoughts of a strained man. A man who hasn't stop loosing since he had lost Shepard. He was starting to wonder if she ever really died. To him she was a lingering spirit and up until now she had been his archangel, his guardian angel, but then she had left, maybe to find another soul to guide, maybe for reinforcements. He hoped it was the latter and if she did bring hope and friends then he vowed that when he went into the next life, he would hug her until she pulled her gun on his. Garrus smirked at the thought, his jaw rubbing against the side of his helmet. Even in the afterlife Shepard had probably smuggled all her precious weapons in with her.

Garrus' thoughts, both negative and positive, were interrupted by static and gurgling over a hacked communication link. Odd... Even for him. There had been no radio contact between any of the three groups, they knew he had his fortress, and the area around it, monitored. Then came the outraged yelling of the mercenaries across the bridge. "She's working with Archangel!"

A tingle of hope surged through him at those words. If he wasn't so focused on, you know, not dyeing, he would have gone down on both knees and thanked Shepard until his voice failed him. A scream derailed his thoughts again, sending the pessimistic thoughts into a decreasing spiral. A familiar silhouette filling the sight on his scope.

Spirits, please, please, don't let me be hallucinating...

Garrus switched to concussive rounds as he saw familiar black and red hues of armor and midnight hair. Oh, spirits, I'm going into cardiac arrest! Only one person moved her body that way to create a warp. And still no damn helmet. The familiar turian smirk that he become so rare during his time on Omega crawled on to his face.

For the time that he had been trapped here that he wished the bridge was shorter, just to witness his archangel before him. In the time he had be couped here, every intelligent thought had been of her, of the time the crew had shared on the Normandy. His mind wondered if he had created this team on Omega to replace the old team Shepard had influenced and created.

He heard her make her way upstairs calling his alias repeatedly. The footsteps grew louder as her and her team drew closer to his post.

"Archangel?" The voice of Shepard still bold and soft.

He held up his hand, not trusting his voice. The bullet sang as it inbedded itself into an untrained mercenary. The geth were never meant to cross the veil and reap havic on the world, and for once Garrus found himself thank Saren for bringing them, for delivering Shepard into his life.

He turned, his eyes greeted with the armored body and unarmored skull of the strongest and most hard-headed woman alive, a scar gracing her face, new and red.

"Shepard."