I watch my space hamster half-heartedly. Sauntering through my personal quarters, I stop to feed my fish. My mind races. I do not walk with the weight of the world on my shoulders, but the weight of the galaxy. I sit stiffly on the edge of my bed and gaze deeply at my old N7 Alliance helmet... the one I died in. I saved the galaxy only to die what felt like a heartbeat later. Resurrected by Cerberus and for what? So that the more-than-questionable multi-billion credit organization can employ me to destroy the Collectors. Now the Alliance has abandoned me. Even Anderson abandoned me. Lying back, I close my eyes and try to put everything in order.

Alive for a month or so, and I'm already shipped off to recruit the strongest group of freaks the galaxy has ever known in order to save billions of human lives. Already I must track down a violence-prone Salarian scientist, a super-powerful psycho biotic (whom we broke out of prison, no less), a genetically engineered test tube baby super-Krogan, and Garrus.

Garrus.

Just thinking the name clears my mind of everything else. He was-- and is one of my closest, one of my only friends. My thoughts flitter to Kaidan for a moment. A quick romance, made in desperation, in the face of death. It meant so little to me now; I almost felt guilty.

But Garrus. Garrus.

Oh, why can't I stop thinking of him? I never felt anything for him before. He was just another trigger-happy Turian warrior, although his passion for capital justice, well. Let's just say that he's my kind of Turian. Garrus was by my side the entire time I hunted Sovereign. I never left Garrus behind. Never. He helped me choose between saving or sacrificing the Council, the leaders of the galaxy. We let three lives fade away in exchange for the safety of a few million human lives. Oh well, Garrus and I never liked the Council anyway. Hell, I once accepted a call from them just to hang up on them.

I chuckle at the memory as my train of thought rushes to the recent events on Omega.

Searching for the mysterious vigilante dubbed the "Archangel." Heh, the title made me grin, but not as much as when I saw the man remove his helmet.

My heart skipped a beat at the revelation. Who else but Garrus could sit in the top floor of an apartment and pick of dozens and dozens of gangsters for days on end with nothing but his sniper rifle? But the joy of reunion was short-lived.

Zaeed and I left for the basement level, leaving Miranda to support Garrus. When we finished locking down the lower level, a helicopter was making laps around the upper floor, a shower of armor-piercing bullets pouring from its turrets. Zaeed, Miranda and I made quick work of the battle chopper. Garrus had not fared so well. He was down when Zaeed and I returned.

Makes me wonder what that bitch Miranda was actually doing to help Garrus up there. God, I wanted to punch her right out the damn window.

Garrus was more important at the moment though. He was against the wall, sprawled on his back. Mouth agape, head-fringe twitching, fingers still gripping the trigger of his rifle desperately, he lay in a pool of his own blood-- a viscous indigo blue that sparkled dully. My stomach turned at the sight and my heart raced. My mind went numb when Zaeed decided to open his mouth.

"He's not gonna make it," he said. I nearly shot that ugly bastard right then and there. But I swallowed my rage and focused on helping Garrus.

I called in the Normandy, barely keeping my voice calm. We loaded him carefully onto the shuttle and then the Normandy. Doctor Chakwas worked her magic, and Garrus was up and smarting off in just a few hours.

Garrus entered the debriefing room as I spoke with Miranda. He looked as good as new, except for a huge scar on his face and a bandage across most of the left side of his head and neck, not to mention the gaping hole in his armor.

"And I thought you were ugly before, Garrus," I joked.

"Some women find facial scars attractive, Shepard," he smirked in reply. "Mind you," he added, "most of those women are Krogan."

We grinned at each other.

I sigh, my flashback finished, and roll over on my side. What a strange feeling. Is this what they call love? Who would've thought that I, who killed Wrex and destroyed the genophage cure, who destroyed the entire Rachni race, who sacrificed the Council, would be able to feel love for anything but battle.

Thoughts of Saren, the Geth, Sovereign, the Reapers, the Collectors, the Alliance, and Cerberus flood my tired brain, making my head pound. Another thought of Garrus pushes it all away. EDI's synthetic voice pushes that away.

"Are you feeling alright, Commander?"

"Shut up," I mumble, burying my face in my pillow. Before EDI can respond, I hear a muffled knock at the door. I pick my head up and hear another, clearer, knock. "What?" I ask, head facing the closed door.

"Am I bothering you, Shepard?" Garrus's flanging voice is distinctive. I leap off the bed.

"Not at all," I answer nonchalant, wondering if he heard my voice quiver.

The door hisses as it opens. I look up at the Turian, tracing the lines of his facepaint with my eyes. I cringe as my gaze falls on the gaping hole in his armor, the sapphire blue burned jet black. I don't think he noticed.

"Commander." I think he might be smiling.

"Yes, Garrus?" I ask.

"Your assistent wants you know that the Illusive Man needs to speak with you."

"Oh." Do I feel... disappointed? I shrug the feeling away and follow Garrus to the elevator.