All characters are owned by Bioware, Inc. All these little one shots are steadily leading to a big fanfic. Maybe then I can stop rehashing scenes everyone else is. XD


Two hours, and they'd be there. The Omega 4 Relay. Taking the fight to the Collectors. Showing them who they were dealing with. But before then, Garrus Vakarian had another role to prepare for. The one part of him that felt this whole ordeal was crazy wasn't entirely certain he knew how. Still, it did very little to dim his excitement.

He appraised himself in the mirror for what felt like the twentieth time, adjusting the collar, the sleeve, of his shirt. His gaze lingered on the right side of his face, surveying the implant covering nearly the whole of his cheek. Damn, how it had hurt to talk, even chew, days after the attack. He smiled wryly, feeling that if not for the rations he had taken with him, he would have died not from trauma but starvation. Despite all that, he was in relatively good health. Lucky for him Shepard didn't mind scars. Or turians, for that matter.

In the flight to stop Saren to that last, tragic moment aboard the first Normandy, never had he imagined he'd be in this position. That she'd disregard any physical discomfort to have this moment with him and no one else. Sometimes he wondered just what it was that led her to this decision. Familiarity, perhaps? Lingering heartache in the wake of seeing Alenko again? After a moment he pushed such doubts aside. Whatever the reason, he knew she would always be straightforward with him. Those two years without her had been hell; no sense spending the present pondering what-ifs.

Taking the bottle of wine he had purchased the last time they were on Omega, Garrus turned and emerged from the mens' restroom, only to bump into Thane Krios.

The drell took in Garrus' attire in one swift, collected glance. "Ah," he said, as if coming to some conclusion. "The others were correct. You have gained more than the commander's trust and respect."

He cleared his throat self-consciously. Vaguely Garrus recalled the poorly concealed, knowing smiles the rest of the crew had given him as Shepard unerringly selected him for missions, and Zaeed's dry but accurate remark of, "You can always tell when a sniper's got his target in sight: he never watches anything else," the other day. It never occurred to him just how obvious they had been. Somehow, had someone come across them in an- ahem- compromising position in the Main Battery, the awkwardness could not have been more acute.

"You...could say that," he said at last.

Thane remained silent, surveying Garrus in that same, calm way. He smiled slightly. "Shepard is a most remarkable and engaging woman."

For a split second Garrus wondered if Thane had also harbored an interest in her. He was on the verge of asking, nigh demanding it, when the drell held up a hand. "I mean no disrespect to your feelings. I was merely stating a fact. It is a wonderful thing to have someone you care for by your side, especially in circumstances as dire as this," he said, sorrow and regret evident in his voice. Hearing it took Garrus back to that day when he learned Shepard had not survived. Not exactly the best thing to think about right now, he thought with some irritation.

The ensuing silence filled the corridor. Garrus, at a loss of trying to find words kind enough to tell his teammate he was in a hurry, finally decided to be blunt. "I shouldn't keep her waiting."

Thane, appearing to be lost in a reverie, gave an absent nod. "My apologies for delaying you," he said, stepping aside to let Garrus pass. The turian voiced his thanks and headed for the elevator. The doors slid open automatically; once he boarded Thane addressed him. "Take this moment and cherish it always," he murmured. "You may not have the time to do it again."

The doors slid closed, and the elevator ascended. Garrus glanced down at the bottle in his hand. Reality forced him to accept that this might be the only time he and Shepard could share in a moment like this. But it was also the same reality where she made it a habit of defying the odds. It was this thought that he carried with him as he strode into her cabin. Whatever happened to them, be it right now or after they entered the relay, tonight was only the beginning.