Summary:
A year without word of her survival has left Garrus restless. After a whole series of events, the game has finally changed and he's tired of waiting. He knows where she is and he'll let nothing stand between him and the woman most call, "Commander." To him, she's just Shepard.
Excerpt:
Garrus checked the clip on each pistol before fastening them both to his hip, one on each side. He then leaned up against the dash so he could secure his Phaeston assault rifle on his back, left of his Widow. As he snapped his grenade belt around his waist, he spared the building's front entrance a dark grimace. He hated fighting in hospitals and as he donned his helmet, he felt like he was going to war in one.
Disclaimers, because I feel like I should do four:
1) I own nothing
2) The way the hospital is depicted in this chapter does not, in any way, reflect my actual views. I'm sure Vancouver General Hospital is a fine facility... Please don't sue me.
3) A huge thank you to shretl (Girlundone), over on AO3, for taking the time to beta read and catch all my mistakes. I seriously don't know how I managed without you!
4) I commissioned the cover art for this story from MadBee. You can see the image, in its entirety, over on AO3 under my username: Some_Writer. You can find more of MadBee's work over on her Tumblr: heterochromiaturian.
A/N:
This story is Part 3 of my 5 part series. If you'd like to read it in order, it goes as followed:
1) The Primarch's Order
2) Raking Over The Ashes
3) Liberation of Snipers and Spectres
Note: Parts two and three can be read out of order.
Part four and five are still in the works. :)
When I started writing The Primarch's Order, I had a very different reunion planned for Garrus and Shepard that would have involved a lot more Victus. Then Mac Walters put a Tweet out and I loved it so much that I knew I had to incorporate it somehow. Problem was I couldn't think of a way to do that without deviating from Victus' POV. Thus, this was born.
This story was originally written and posted over on AO3. Because of this site's content guidelines, I felt compelled to remove the two adult scenes I had written for this story. If you'd like to read the director's cut, you can find Liberation of Snipers and Spectres over on AO3 under my username: Some_Writer.
Obvious spoiler warning if you haven't read The Primarch's Order.
Enjoy and thank you for reading. :)
It had been twenty-one hours since his shuttle departed from the turian cargo freighter and nineteen hours since it had glided to a smooth stop at the docking port. Eighteen hours ago, he secured a skycar in Toronto and thirteen since he had flown it to Vancouver. He hadn't slept a wink during any of those hours. He couldn't even if he tried, not that he did. He hardly left the driver's seat at all.
Rain spattered the windshield of his parked vehicle. There was a time when Garrus would have enjoyed watching it. It didn't rain often on Palaven, especially Cipritine, so when it did a lot of turians enjoyed it. Getting marooned on a wet, humid planet that rained near-constantly had a way of souring the experience. It was hard to get dry and he still had some scarring from the plate rot that accumulated on parts of his body because of it.
Though, he still found the sound pleasant.
Garrus spent most of the time watching the footage Victus had sent him on that momentous night he'd shown up at his door to tell him, "As you expected, Commander Shepard is alive." He wanted to know exactly where to go once he reached the destination, determined not to spend another single wasted second from Shepard.
It also served as a nice distraction from all the humans that shot him odd looks as they passed his car. He knew he should have sprung for the tinted windows.
Every time his omni-tool flashed, his eyes would dart to it in the hopes of receiving the highly anticipated coordinates he was promised. He knew his destination laid somewhere in the heaping, dilapidated pile the metropolis of Vancouver had become, but he didn't know where exactly.
It would seem the Councilor was content to make him wait. Again.
'Ass.'
Frustrated, he snarled at the unhelpful device as it merely informed him of his heightened blood pressure. Flicking an eye up to his visor revealed the same. He didn't need gadgets to know he was on edge. After a year of mourning, a year of pining, a year of being told (again) that she was dead, he was going to see her. He was going to get her back. She was somewhere in this cesspool of a city, being held by the same people she had placed her trust in for over a decade.
'And they turn on her the first chance they get.' The plating of his gloves creaked as his hand closed into a tight fist.
After everything she had done for them, for the galaxy, this was how she was treated in return; locked away like an inconvenience. The thought struck rage in his heart like two flint stones casting sparks on a pile of dry brush.
She had saved so many even before the war.
She saved her crew.
She saved him.
His omni-tool flashed and, once again, his gaze darted to it immediately.
A. Victus [Cipritine, Palaven]
0723
49.2612°N 123.123056°W
Garrus couldn't help the surprised breath he sucked in as his eyes fell on, in his opinion, the holy-fucking-grail of messages. Turians didn't kiss each other. That show of affection was one he'd learned only for Shepard, but he certainly felt like he could kiss the sender of this message... If he wasn't still so angry at him, that is. Garrus was still leaning strongly toward wanting to punch the Councilor in the face.
His omni-tool flashed again just as Garrus began plugging the coordinates into the car's holo interface, but he ignored it until his car had lifted from the ground. Then he glanced down and wanted to laugh at the follow-up message he'd received.
A. Victus [Cipritine, Palaven]
0724
Minimal bloodshed.
'We'll see,' he was tempted to respond with, but refrained. Lightning cracked across the sky in the same instant his blue eyes lifted from the device on his wrist in favor of the horizon.
His vehicle sped through the skyline, weaving around other cars as he repeatedly ignored that charming middle finger that kept getting raised in his direction. He didn't care. Not when he was only minutes away, and could already begin to make out the outline of the encroaching hospital. The fortress that entrapped Commander Shepard.
"I'm coming, Shepard," he whispered, more as a reassurance to himself. "It's time someone saves you for a change."
The clearer the outline of the building became in the smoggy, cloudy atmosphere, the easier it became for him to count his heartbeats as the muscle hammered itself against his rib cage. He glanced down at the vehicle's sound system, largely neglected until that very moment, and raised a finger to select a track reflecting his mood. Stormy as the sky around him.
A deep base thundered in his ear canals to sync with his heartbeat and he smiled, amused at how influential music still was to him. It was always a point of contention between him and his father.
"You can't afford distractions, Garrus. Turn that off," his father would scold him, never understanding that music helped him concentrate and find a rhythm in each and every shot. He had once boasted to Shepard, while shooting bottles with her on the presidium, of how he could make the rifle dance. It wasn't entirely an exaggeration.
The music pulsed in his head as he brought his car to the ground, parking it in a very illegal spot in front of the main entrance. As he reached for his Widow, the talon on his pointer finger caressed the barrel like a lover before his hand enclosed around the stock and he hefted the gun into his lap.
'Minimal bloodshed,' was Victus' order. Garrus had no intention of hurting anyone... if he didn't have to. He would let nothing stop him from reaching Shepard and damn those who would try.
Perhaps he was taking this mission a little too personally, too emotionally. Then again, maybe that was why Victus chose to send him. He knew Garrus would be a force as merciless as the Councilor himself had become.
'Or maybe it's because he was your friend and he's trusting you not to fuck it up.' He briefly paused on that thought. 'Nah.'
Garrus checked the clip on each pistol before fastening them both to his hip, one on each side. He then leaned up against the dash so he could secure his Phaeston assault rifle on his back, left of his Widow. As he snapped his grenade belt around his waist, he spared the building's front entrance a dark grimace. He hated fighting in hospitals and as he donned his helmet, he felt like he was going to war in one.
With that in mind, the hatch opened and he stepped out of his car to the sight of his first adversaries; two irate-looking, human security guards.
"Hey, you can't park there!" One called out as he and his buddy crossed the wet pavement, illuminated by the neon red hospital sign above. Angrily, they stormed toward his vehicle, but only managed about nine steps before their eyes saw past the wet mist and really landed on him, taking in the gleam of his blue and silver armor and the black visor hiding his face. As a turian Garrus already towered over them, but the fact his bulky armor painted an even more intimating image wasn't lost on him. He watched as their gaze roved up and over his shoulder, settling on the black stock of his menacing Widow and he could almost see the 'oh shit' behind their eyes. Their advance came to an abrupt halt.
The opaque visor of his helmet was set on their faces and he watched them reach for their weapons; Kessler pistols and old models at that. They would hardly graze his shields.
"Hold it right there!" One snapped, his hand lingering in what Garrus was sure was supposed to be an intimidating display over his sidearm.
Garrus barely spared the man a glance before his visor fixated on the goal he and his buddy guarded; the front entrance. Finally fed up with his unrelenting advance, the humans drew their guns, pointed them at him.
He was only feet away now.
"Spectre authority." His omni-tool rose, flashing his omni-ID in time with his steps, still never slowing, but it was plenty of time for the men to see the ID and freeze. The lines of their body had stiffened with uncertainty. Spirits, saying that was almost better than sex. 'Well,' he considered, remembering the way Shepard could bend. 'Almost.'
They didn't try to stop him again as he moved past them and soon, the front doors parted to admit his entrance into the lobby. There, his brain went into overdrive, pulling from the memory of the footage he'd watched countless times over. Garrus' eyes fell on the first order of business; the front desk. Passing that would bring him to the first corridor he needed to take.
"Excuse me, sir!" He heard the alarmed voice from the human behind the desk.
"Spectre authority," he repeated, acknowledging them in the form of his glowing omni-ID.
He felt invincible.
"Where do you think you're going, turian?" Another human called after him as he rounded the third corner and walked briskly down the hallway.
"Spectre authority."
He would make a right at the stock photo of the three trees, then another right at the drinking fountain and then a left at the third fire extinguisher. That corridor would end at the top of a dimly-lit, rather foreboding staircase that descended beneath the ground. His only light source was an eerie, red glow that reminded him of Omega. Now that was a review he was sure the hospital director would loathe to receive. 'Yes, the facilities reminded me of that life-swallowing beast that haunts the Terminus Systems.'
Omega or human tales of 'hell.' The two were synonymous, as far as Garrus was concerned.
Fitting. He'd followed Shepard into hell already so it stands to reason that he'd be the one to drag her out.
Garrus hurried down the staircase before anyone else could try to stop him, pushing thoughts of a certain rotten space station from his mind as his blue and silver armor purpled in the red glow. Hopefully there was only one patient being kept in the depths of such hallowed tunnels.
Thankfully, little had changed from the footage he watched, which made navigating the hallways fairly simple. The only thing that could potentially trip him up was his own eagerness, leaving him open to making mistakes.
'And really, where's the fun in a mission going off without a hitch?'
At last, he rounded what he knew to be the final corner and set his eyes on the door at the end of the hallway. The very same door from the recording that had opened to reveal Shepard.
His vision blurred at the edges as he dashed down the hallway. When he reached the door, he couldn't be bothered to hack the terminal. He wanted that door open and he wanted it now.
Garrus reached down to the belt around his waist and withdrew a single sticky grenade from the clasps. He set it square in the middle of the door, took a few steps back, and raised his omni-tool. At the push of a button, the door was blown off its hinges and Garrus hurried through both the frame and the smoky cloud that filled it. As he stepped past the threshold all pretenses of keeping his emotions at bay went up in the very flames that blasted the metal door from its frame. His eyes immediately landed on where he knew Shepard would be, but knowing she was there did little to abate his shock. His body ground to a halt as his mind raced, trying to piece together the image before him.
There she was; the woman he loved above all else. The one whose death nearly destroyed him twice over. She was alive and she was regarding him with a look that conveyed her surprise, not fear. Who else would blast a door down in a hospital if not one of her crew?
As the smoke swirled around him, ascending toward some air vents her expression began to change. Her surprise shifted to uncertainty as she took in his presence. That's when it occurred to the logical side of his brain that he was still wearing his opaque helmet, and not one she would recognize. He had acquired it, along with the rest of his armor, while on Palaven recovering downed Reapers. She didn't recognize him. Unfortunately, the rest of his brain had short circuited. All he could do was stand there and stare as her eyes tracked over his body, searching for any recognizable sign.
After her gaze climbed up the length of his body, her eyes landed on the sigil emblazoned on his right bicep. It was a sigil she would know as it was the very same he would engrave somewhere on almost every set of armor he owned as a tribute to his ill-fated team on Omega.
Archangel.
"Garrus." His name was spoken by a voice that broke in a hoarse whisper, but there was no uncertainty in her tone as she breathed his name. She knew who he was.
'Shepard.' He still couldn't move.
"Garrus!" She cried before her arms immediately went to work, grabbing the rails of her bed in order to pull herself up. It became clear to Garrus that she was willing to throw herself off the bed and drag her body across the floor to him if she had to.
She wouldn't have to because his own body went into motion the very instant hers did. As he crossed the floor, his hands came up to grab at his helmet, tearing it from his head and sending it on a one-way trip to the floor. He vaguely registered the dull thunk it made when it met the bleached tile.
When he reached her at last, her burned hands instantly rose to cup his mandibles and his hands came down to cradle the sides of her head in kind. After that, the world fell away because all he could focus on was the feel of her lips against his maw. He knew he was pressing against her soft mouth too hard, but he couldn't bring himself to lighten up.
Shepard was here and she was warm and she was his and Spirits, he missed her. He loved her.
Five fingers snaked to the back of his head to pull him closer despite the discomfort he was undoubtedly inflicting on her face. Apparently, she missed him too.
Garrus pulled his mouth away to indulge in his own show of affection by pressing his brow against hers and staring into her eyes earnestly. He breathed deeply, pulling her scent into his nasal cavity like oxygen and it hit him like a shot of adrenaline.
He felt alive again.
"Need an evac?" So long apart and that was the only thing he could think to say. Humor was always a tool he deferred to during times of stress, much to his father's chagrin. Garrus had embarrassed him more than once during inappropriate times. It was a habit that would only worsen during his time with his team on Omega and then again with the Normandy crew.
Shepard's eyes closed and her breath hit his face in the form of hushed laughter. "Yes please."
Garrus had learned quickly that it was a trait he shared with Shepard. It was what they initially bonded over on the SR1, after all.
Hands still gripping her face, he gave her a hard look, reminiscent of the one he shot her when she awoke on the shuttle floor while they fled the planet, Despoina. Giving her head a gentle shake, he would repeat what he said to her then as well.
"Never do that again." Though, he couldn't recall his voice cracking as badly as it had now.
"I had t-"
"Do you hear me?" He snapped, subharmonics haywire with emotion. "Never."
"I'm sorry."
With his brow pressed against her forehead, he could watch the water pooling in her eyes, making them glisten and shine in a way turian eyes cannot. She was so beautiful that he couldn't help the clawed thumb that rose to wipe the moisture that had streaked her cheeks. He watched the way her soft skin gave beneath his gloved talon, her tears collecting around the point as it dimpled her flesh.
Garrus' eyes flickered up to find her watching him, witnessing the intensity of his gaze on her cheek. He brought his mouth down against hers again to convey his forgiveness and swallowed the sob she'd released against his mouth. They would remain that way for several moments before Shepard broke the kiss. She looked him in the eye and said, "Get me out of here, Garrus."
Garrus flicked his mandible, smiling despite the desperate keen he'd been unable to sedate from the moment he laid eyes on her. It was an order he was happy to follow. "You got it."
Remembering the state of her legs from the recording, he glanced around for a wheelchair, but his search was fruitless. His eyes then fell on the walker positioned close to her bed. 'No. That wouldn't work either. Too slow.' He returned his attention to the woman that watched him through watery eyes- a sight reserved only for him. He gave her an expectant look, knowing that no words needed to be said, and waited for her consent. She gave an overly dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes- a few tears escaped at the motion- before she reached her hands up to rest them lightly on his shoulders.
"If you must," she assented and it was all Garrus needed to hear. One arm scooped her beneath the backs of her knees and the other wrapped around her back before he lifted her easily off the cot. She was never heavy to him, but she certainly felt lighter than he remembered.
"Not quite sure what to do with my hands here, Garrus," she admitted as she awkwardly patted the front of his cowl.
"What do humans normally do with them?"
"My arms would go around your neck like this-" she demonstrated, or attempted to. It became clear to Garrus how cumbersome his cowl was to her effort.
"Oh." He remarked. "I guess you can just grab the rim."
"Isn't that what turian children do?"
"Yes," he told her as he turned away from the bed and realized the predicament he'd put himself in when he spotted his helmet lying inconveniently on the floor.
"How romantic," she remarked sarcastically. Shepard sufficed by wrapping her arm, closest to his body, over his shoulder and she gripped the front of his cowl with the other.
"I learned from the best." He gave her a pointed look and flicked his mandible into a glib smile. The music of Shepard's laughter was his reward.
He never thought he'd hear it again.
"Point taken," she said.
His feet halted at his helmet and he glanced between the woman taking up the usage of his arms and the helmet on the floor. Shepard watched his dilemma with no small amount of amusement in her eyes.
"From what I've seen of your human romance vids- they're terrible, by the way- this is a pretty common scenario. Knight in shining armor rescuing the-"
"Don't say it," she warned.
"What's the phrase?" His eyes scanned the ceiling as if to search for the answer above him. "I think it starts with a-"
"Vakarian." Her mouth pulled into a thin line.
"No, not that. It's got three sounds," he ignored her, making a show of thinking very hard for the phrase.
"I swear to god," she grumbled and folded her arms across her chest, fixing him with narrowed eyes and a sour scowl.
"Damsel in distress!" He declared, far louder then he really should have. She opened her mouth, probably to tell him exactly where he could shove that term, but he pressed on before she could, "And you have every right to be after what you've been through. Let me save you for a change, Shepard. I'm pretty sure I owe you a few rescues."
Her scowl faded in the wake of her radiant smile. "I'll accept payment in other ways," she informed him, reaching behind his neck to nudge his head lower so she could brush her soft nose against his mandible. Her voice had dropped into a velvety range that never failed to get his blood pumping. It would seem time away from her had done little to change that.
With his helmet forgotten, he focused on the weight of her in his arms, the warmth of her body against his, the freckles that dusted her cheeks and nose. He wanted to reconnect with her now. Judging by the way her gaze had fixated on his eyes, something about them must have conveyed that to her.
"About that rescue," she reminded him with a soft grunt to clear her throat. Her voice was no more than a hushed whisper, effectively snapping him from his licentious thoughts.
"Right." Garrus blinked. "Forget the helmet. Let's get you out of here."
The hem of her hospital gown whispered against the plating over his thighs as he carried her across the room. He was just about to pass through the mutilated door when she told him, "You know, if you crouched down, I could have grabbed it for you."
'Damn.' His feet slowed briefly before resuming his hurried pace.
"I'll buy a new one."
"Are you sure?"
He ran his eyes down the length of her body before returning to her face, finding that her cheeks had colored a delightful pink at the once-over. "Very sure."
They stepped into the empty, red-lit corridor after that and Garrus' feet beat a hurried path for the staircase.
"Not exactly the most hospitable hospital I've ever been in." Shepard scanned her surroundings, giving Garrus the impression that this was the first time she'd left that room since waking up in it.
"That's reassuring to hear. I've never been in a human hospital. Good to know this isn't standard procedure for your people." Garrus flicked a mandible. "Honestly, it's nicer upstairs."
"Exactly which hospital is this, anyway? They never told me."
"Vancouver General."
That answer earned him a rueful chuckle, followed by a quick, "Assholes." She tilted her chin up to catch the curious look he shot her in response to her rather personal-sounding reply. "According to my medical records, this is where I was born."
Shepard normally preferred not to speak of her background. Doing so usually distressed her, though she hid it well. It wasn't until they were months into their hunt for Saren, as well as three rounds into their tab at the bar, when she finally opened up to him about it. It wasn't a past she was proud of.
Garrus could only imagine what it felt like for her to encounter a moment, of her infancy no less, and discover it had been used against her by the very people she trusted. Garrus tightened his grip on her, momentarily pulling her body into his in what he hoped would be interpreted as a consoling squeeze.
"I doubt most of the staff even know you were down here."
"A few did," she told him, disdain coloring her tone. She looked away from him, her gaze focusing on his feet, watching his steps. "I don't understand, Garrus. Why would the Alliance do this to me?"
The weight of her betrayal felt heavy in his arms.
"I wish I had an answer for you, Shepard," he told her honestly. "But it doesn't matter." Garrus spoke soothingly in a way he knew she appreciated. He had long since perfected the art of comforting Commander Shepard over the years. "You'll be gone after today."
They had rounded two corners and Garrus knew they were closing in on the staircase to take them up to the main floor. His recollection was supported by the map his visor supplied him, tracked from the distance he had covered earlier. Oh, the sight they would make; an armed and armored turian carrying the galaxy's lost war hero out into the public eye. The press was going to shit themselves, but hopefully they will have made their escape by the time word got out.
"Garrus?" Shepard's voice was a hushed breath that left a spot of condensation against his chest.
"Hm?"
"How did you find me?" There was the question Garrus dreaded answering. He didn't want to discuss Victus right now. He was too happy to get pissed off so soon.
At his silence Shepard pressed. "Garrus."
Upon hearing the use of his name, Garrus glanced down at her. "We get out of here and I promise to tell you the whole damn thing."
"Ah." She nodded. "Classified, then."
"Glad we're on the same page."
"Aren't we always?"
No, not always. Garrus could think of a few examples in which they were not on the same page at all. Old mechs and treacherous oceans came to mind, but just as Garrus opened his mouth to give voice to those thoughts a third one reverberated from the staircase they were approaching. "The turian came down here, sir!" It sounded angry.
The sound of armored boots, and lots of them, came stomping down the steps. The staccato was frenzied, panicked, and Garrus knew that evoking his new-found authority might not have the same effect it had last time.
"Friends of yours?" Shepard asked, skepticism coloring her tone as she cast a reproachful look at the staircase.
"No," He turned and hurried in the opposite direction.
"There he is!" One shouted as Garrus rounded the far corner and barreled down the hallway. "Hold it!"
Ignoring them, Garrus broke into a sprint as he picked the next corner and pivoted around it, throwing Shepard and him down the next hallway. He did his best not to jostle her too much as he ran and though she made a valiant effort to hide her discomfort, he saw right through it. He whispered a rapid string of apologies to her, they fell from his mouth in time with his footfalls. All the while his visor flickered readouts across his eye, feeding him a satellite layout of the building.
Armored boots thundered behind them.
"Those are Alliance soldiers," Shepard observed, glancing over his should just as Garrus put another wall between them and their pursuers.
"Yeah."
"Garrus."
A pistol barked and a small chunk of wall exploded just feet ahead of them. A warning shot, Garrus knew, but he instinctively curled in around Shepard's body anyway to shield her from any more bullets that might clip them from behind.
"By Alliance Command, I order you to stop!" Barked one of the soldiers.
According to his visor, the hallways were all connected at some point, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant they couldn't be cornered and they could eventually find their way back to the staircase. Bad because they could easily get headed off should their pursuers call for reinforcements and, by the urgent chatter he heard behind them, that was a likely scenario.
Another chunk of plaster erupted from the wall ahead of them. Another warning shot and Garrus understood how those might be in short supply. He flinched from the dust as he barreled through it and Shepard raised a protective hand over her eyes.
Another shot, closer this time. It would seem the warning shot supply was shorter than he hoped.
"That's it," Shepard grumbled before he felt her shift in his arms. She reached over his shoulder and realization of her intent dawned on him when she enclosed her tiny fingers around the stock of his rifle. He kept running as she undid the clasp securing it and attempted to hoist it over his shoulder. It was heavy, built for a turian's arm, but thanks to her cybernetics Shepard was a human that could handle it. Well, at least she was before she had to lay sedentary in a hospitable bed for months. He felt the weight of the gun wobble worryingly, forcing him to slow down so she could heft it into her lap. He tried to keep his attention on both the floor space in front of them and the information on his visor, but he couldn't help risking a glance down to watch Shepard as she puzzled out the best hand placement for supporting such a weighted gun. Her mouth was set in a grim frown. Undoubtedly, the weight of the rifle was proving more than her unused muscles could handle and she stared at it with her eyebrows knitted in concentration; a problem for Commander Shepard to solve.
True to form, she solved it.
She maneuvered the rifle so that she could shove the gunstock into his shoulder and simply use her hands to brace it. His curled arm fortuitously acted to take some additional pressure from her hands.
"Garrus, turn around." It was an order, delivered by the tone Garrus knew not to argue with. Obediently, he whipped around quickly, running backwards for little more than a second. It was all the time he needed to feel his Widow recoil into his shoulder and see red blood erupt from the shin of the first human to step around the corner.
The human wailed as he went down, not knowing how lucky he really was. Garrus had no doubt that the non-lethal shot was intentional.
The Commander was fed up, but she was merciful, clean, and surgical.
There were two more shots in the rifle and Garrus knew to turn around the instant he heard more footsteps catch up to the fallen soldier. One shot went into a dominate hand wielding a pistol and the last one in the clip found its home in the shoulder of the third human.
"Shots fired! Shots fired!" He heard one of the humans bellow.
Garrus heard the thermal clip clink red-hot on the tiles behind them after Shepard ejected it from the gun.
"Right hip," he informed her, knowing she'd be wanting to reload the gun.
"Think I forgot where you keep your stash, Vakarian?" She quipped with a mischievous smirk, briefly deviating his attention from the pain in her eyes.
Spirits, he loved her.
Shepard reached for his hip, withdrew a clip from its respective pouch, and inserted it into the Widow. She then waited for the sound of more footsteps and, upon hearing them, Garrus whipped around before she even needed to tell him to do so. The connection he had with her was as strong as it ever was, and working with her again felt good. Damn good. The sight of her perfect shots felt even better. The Widow roared, ramming into his shoulder with the fervor of an enthusiastic lover and three more wails rang off the walls.
"Don't suppose your escape plan goes a little more beyond run for our lives?" Shepard asked him, reloading the Widow again as Garrus hurdled around another corner. Another chunk of plaster sprayed from the wall, this time too close to be anything but a simple miss.
Garrus threw himself sideways, through an open door, curling protectively around Shepard and allowing his back to absorb the impact of his fall. Mercifully, she had a tight hold on his precious Widow and it never met the ground the way his body did. He groaned at the feeling, but knew better than to dwell on his discomfort. His grip tightened on Shepard as he scrambled to his feet without the use of his hands and rushed for a door opposite of the one he'd barreled through. It spat the duo out into another hallway and Garrus ran on.
"Still working on it," he grunted.
"Got it." She nodded. Then: "Turn."
And he turned.
The Widow roared three more times.
According to his visor, they were nearing the staircase again. Hopefully their hunters, as Shepard would put it, would give up the ghost once they emerged around other patients. He tried not to dwell too long on the fact that he was hoping to use the presence of other- innocent- people to keep them safe. When had he devolved to using living shields?
'When it came down to them or Shepard.'
He sprinted around a corner and found the staircase again. His heart hammered against his ribs while the muscles in his legs screamed their protest at having been pushed past their limit.
"Getting a little winded, Big Guy?"
"Not helping, Shepard."
His heart hammered and then fell when his ear canal caught the sound of thundering boots coming from the top of the staircase accompanied by loud, angry voices.
"Shit," the turian and human cursed in unison.
Garrus skidded to a stop and turned to run the other direction. Again, but was stopped by the sight of Alliance soldiers rounding the corner; too many for Shepard to shoot with his Widow. His feet came to an abrupt halt.
With soldiers advancing on them from both front and behind, they were trapped in the middle. Garrus gripped Shepard's body, pulling her tightly against his chest, wishing he could somehow absorb her beneath his plates and protect her. He doubted they would kill her, but they would certainly trap her again.
'Over my dead body.'
His eyes narrowed in a menacing glare at their adversaries and a vicious growl ripped from deep within his chest, vibrating through Shepard's back. She glanced up at him- just a brief look, but it was all Garrus needed to understand the meaning.
'It's alright, Big Guy,' her eyes said. 'It's Shepard and Vakarian. To the very end.'
His arms hugged her even tighter to his chest, knowing the pressure had to be disrupting her breathing, but he couldn't help it. She didn't seem inclined to complain.
'Shepard and Vakarian to the end.' There was peace in that.
"Stand down!" A rough voice bellowed from atop the stairs. "Stand down, I say!"
Garrus recognized the voice, though it didn't belong to someone he knew very well. He rotated on the spot to watch a man, dressed in Admiral blues, descend the staircase behind the rows of armed soldiers. Men stepped aside to allow him passage so that he could work his way to the front and come face to face with the Commander and her turian.
"This man is a Spectre sent by the Council!" He loudly explained to the sea of confused faces.
Garrus felt Shepard's eyes flicker up at him at the title, but he ignored it. His gaze was only for the male human in front of him.
"Apologies, Commander," he nodded at Shepard and not at the turian that had done the actual bullet-dodging. Garrus glared at him. "I only just got here after speaking with the Councilor." Garrus didn't miss the note of bitterness he detected in the admiral's voice at the mention of the title. Undoubtedly, his exchange with Victus could not have been a pleasant one.
"Coats," Shepard uttered the name slowly, testing her memory of it.
"Yes, Commander," he confirmed with a curt nod. "You'll find the effects you were recovered with in the main office. And you, Spectre," he turned cold eyes onto Garrus and raised his omni-tool. "You'll be needing this code at the docking bay in London. Your... designated ship will be waiting for you there." He finished the last sentence with a sneer so severe that Garrus would have thought uttering the words made him sick. Upon closer inspection, he saw that Coats stared out through stricken eyes set in an ashen face; he was scared. Terrified.
From his office on Palaven, Victus had reached across solar systems to sink his talons into the back of the human before him, using him to manipulate events as an extension of himself. As he saw fit. All around Garrus, guns lowered, adhering their admiral's order and, by proxy, the Councilor's. They bent and swayed like trees caught in the wind of a merciless hurricane, the landscape forever changed.
Garrus suppressed a shiver.
"Thank you, Admiral." Shepard nodded, though her tone was anything but thankful. Garrus took that as his cue to step around the glaring admiral and walk slowly toward the staircase bordered by a wall of scowling faces and gleaming rifles. Thankfully, the said scowling faces parted so that they could pass, but the heads they were plastered on turned to follow him as Archangel ascended the depths of hell.
True to his word, they found Shepard's things in the main office. Granted, there wasn't much left to find except charred armor -Garrus didn't want to look too closely at that- and her cooked omni-tool. He had set her down in a chair as he rifled through the locker, searching for the one thing he knew she'd want back. It took him a few minutes before he fished his prize out of the locker and held it up for her to see. Her silver dog tags.
Garrus didn't miss the way her jaw clenched as her eyes fell on the gleaming metal dangling from his fingers. He crossed the room, spreading the chain out across both hands and held the necklace out to her like an offering. After a couple seconds, her clenched jaw loosened and a small, accepting smile graced her features.
Carefully, he looped the thin chain over her head and draped it loosely around her neck. He took his time, tracing his fingers down her neck, watching the flesh prickle in the wake of his gloved talons until his fingers found the plates at the end of the chain and he tucked them into the top of her hospitable gown. With his hands still on the fabric of her gown, his eyes gaze traveled up from its place on her collarbone- a favorite spot of his- and found her watching him with a level of intensity he'd never experienced from another person.
Nobody looked at him the way she did.
All at once, the empty feeling he'd been harboring for months filled in with the piece he'd been missing and he was powerless to stop himself from pressing his hard mouth against her soft one. He was also too weak to stop the feeble groan he emitted against her mouth when he heard her sigh into his kiss.
Her hands cupped his mandibles, holding him in place as she deepened their kiss by dragging the tip of her tongue across the outline of his mouth.
"Spirits," he breathed, pulling away before he took her right there in the office. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before he told her, "I missed you."
Shepard huffed a feeble laugh and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was her way of holding back an onslaught of tears, Garrus knew. When they reopened, shining in the way human eyes do, she said, "I missed you too, Garrus."
He pretended not to notice the crack in her voice.
Later, after he helped her into the passenger seat of his rental skycar and took to the air, he glanced over to watch as she scaled down her dark window.
A horrible, elcor version of an old human song played on the sound system.
"With unbridled passion: Take me home tonight. I don't want to let you go until you see the light."
Shepard spared the radio a perplexed look before she looked up and caught him staring. Then, a radiant smile split her face and she shoved her arm out the open window, smiling at the cool, damp air that pelted against her scarred skin and left her loose-fitting sleeve billowing in the wind. He saw her five fingers spread, shaking against the force of the air that hit them and she started to chuckle. At first, it was little more than a soft chortle, but it quickly grew in volume when she laid her head back against the seat. It was roaring laughter mixed with two parts joy and sorrow and Garrus doubted if even she knew which emotion was most prominent. Yet, she expressed them both and he felt honored to be the one she chose to witness it.
He smiled at her, but she was still laughing too hard to notice. It didn't matter. Garrus turned his eyes onto the horizon, his grin never failing, and watched their destination grow more and more prominent.
Commander Shepard was a free woman.