A flash of red; Makos and cursing marines firing into the air; a sound of screeching metal, and the faint whoof of air as the airlock latched shut on the Normandy.
Those were the last images he had of Jane Shepard.
"Get those damn things the hell off my men!"
"With pleasure," smirked a blue-faced turian. The clan markings were getting harder to read, what with the grime of war, the wear of age, and of course: the giant scar from a missile that marred the better half of his face. Hell Garrus, you were always ugly- slap some war paint on it and you'll be fine. He remembered her smirk wane as her eyes rested and lingered on his freshly bandaged face. Had she cared for him, even then? He figured he'd just have to ask her himself in their regular correspondence through private messages, but that would have to wait. For now, he had an ass load of husks to take care of. He took up a nice position just far enough away to create some distance, and just elevated enough to keep him out of arm's length.
The rocky, canyoned landscape of Menae offered plenty of suitable points to bunker down, but this spot couldn't be better: the rocks formed a funnel like effect that meant only a handful of husks could emerge at a time. Just enough for him to down them before their numbers became dangerous. He knew he needed to hold this position to offer some relief to the battalion attempting to escape behind him, as most were injured due to an unexpected explosion from a downed gunnery ship. These husks weren't going to touch a single plate on those men, he made sure of that with every screaming, wailing husk that graced his crosshairs. I love this rifle.
A flash of blue off in the distance, and the familiar electrical tingle that was left in the air. A biotic blast emanated from the nearby camp, but that shouldn't be right. The biotic units were stationed much further east, attempting to deal with a mess of harvesters dropping off cannibals. Garrus couldn't help himself as he took his sights from the funnel of husks, now piling high with the dead ones and creating an even more obtrusive bottleneck effect, and toward the camp.
It was indeed a biotic blast, one that sent husks and cannibals alike flailing midair-another crack of swirling blue from a singularity and the enemies remained stuck in their foolish floating positions as they were picked off with well placed shots. One cannibal however did not have the luxury of a quick and graceful pistol shot, though instead received the pulsated blam of a short range shotgun blast, directly in its abdomen. Recognizing the battle tactics immediately, Garrus' chuckle purred against his still raised sniper rifle as he thought to himself how she still wasn't any better of a shot. He quickly repositioned himself to throw out a proximity mine to collapse against the rocks, creating a barrier against the incoming horde of husks that was drastically thinned due to his superior shots. The dust still settled as he turned to the direction of the camp, his steps quickening. There was no reaper on this moon that was going to touch his human.
"What do you mean she's gone?" he hissed, stepping closer to the general who had the unfortunate task of informing him of Shepard's whereabouts.
"Sir, she just left to take care of a radio tower in an effort to get communications back up. She needs to get to Victus, but she never specified for what...sir," he added the last part nervously as Garrus' mandibles flicked with irritation. He didn't run through hordes of husks and spirits-know-what-else to save her ass just to have her not be there. So much for the dashing entrance, he thought.
He didn't have to wait long however, as the communications flickered back to life and he could hear the camp's barricade lift to let her enter. Still though, it was long enough for his plates to burn in nervous anticipation. He lost her once already, and he couldn't stand the thought of not being there, looking over her 6.
She walked up with a familiar asari, and a stranger human, much too tan and much too..muscled. His human was covered in the electric slime of husks, and the blue slop that had to come from short range blasts to cannibals. Garrus became suddenly aware that Shepard had never truly seen him in a purely turian environment, particularly one where he held authority. What if she preferred him as one to take orders, or what if he was too...alien? How did humans even act when greeting after absences?
After catching the general up to speed as to what they just encountered, the group was able to pinpoint the last known location of Victus.
"I think I can narrow that location down even further," Garrus chimed in before Shepard had a chance to go barreling after the general, "I just saw him and his unit a little under an hour ago. I can take you there,"
"Garrus!" she noticed him from across the holodisplays of the battlefield and crossed the distance with earnest strides before skirting to a stop a foot away. He could see the conflict in her face, displaying exactly what he was feeling. What was the appropriate way to greet each other after what happened? Especially here, where he held some form of authority?
He reached out a hand, taking hers and clasping on with his other. "It's good to see you Shepard,"
Before she could say another word, a signal came from the Normandy of a situation, and it was back to business from there. They fell back into the sync of battle easily, as if they were never apart. Shepard came in close to enemy battalions, while Garrus picked off any that she missed or were out of her line of sight. James, the new human, was easy to work with. He had the hitting power of a shotgun as well, but given Shepard's prowess with her own it seemed redundant, forcing him to use his assault rifle. Though new, it worked well given the variety of enemies they faced, and it absolutely worked in their favor when facing a brute after their barricade collapsed basically on top of it.
Before long they reached Victus, and from there they had no more reason to stay on Menae. After one more long look back to the big burning orange on Palaven, Garrus left his moon and boarded the Normandy.
It's good to be home.
"So there's no way I can convince you to just send a persuasive vid instead?"
"Unfortunately, turians usually prefer a more..physical presence," Garrus emphasized the last part as as his talons gently brushed her soft cheek. Spirits, there were so many of those- what were they called? Freckles? He wanted to count them all, wanted to memorize the way her green eyes shown through him with that mischievous grin that knew him too well. How she always did that, could always see right through him with just a look, never ceased to amaze him. He rested his brow against hers, an act that she fondly referred to as "turian kisses".
"Hmmm...the way you make it sound, perhaps I have been misidentified as the wrong species," her sweet breath clouded his already troubled senses. "Because you know, Vakarian, I too prefer a more...physical presence," she sighed the last part against the leather dip of his neck. He wondered if she knew how that sent him into a frenzy, but he didn't have to guess for long as her hand caressed the very spot her lips had just rested, causing a low sub-harmonic hum to reverberate from his bare chest.
"Careful, Shepard," his voice was dark and deep, more tantalizing than intimidating.
"You should know me better than to think I would be careful. I like things close range, remember?" she struck him with that knowing grin again, baiting him, "Now if you'd excuse me, I have a shower to get to," she didn't even take a second glance as she slid from his embrace in her cabin, turned and went to start the steam from the shower. He sat in a daze on her couch before he got up and followed the trail of clothes.
"Coming?" she cooed. He was on her before she even had the chance to raise her snarky eyebrow.
Garrus snapped himself back to his senses. Thank the spirits for these damn guns, or he would have nothing to distract himself from these wicked thoughts echoed across his mind. He still had trouble after the missile blast with the numbers, which usually meant a greater need for deeper concentration. He poured himself into his task, as the battery doors hummed open.
A brilliant flash of red gave her away: her strange fringe still fascinated him beyond belief, and he couldn't help but stare in adoration. His eyes met hers, and as they fell they slowly paused on her neck. A pang of guilt filled him completely, particularly given where his thoughts had previously taken him. The memory was quickly buried in his mind, as he tried to focus on the present Shepard standing in front of him now. Their correspondences over the months did not feel awkward, or forced. Perhaps she didn't hate him as much as he thought? She should. After what I did to her...
"So I see you have generals saluting you now. I'm surprised I didn't hear 'Vakarian' when I asked who the next Primarch would be," her smile came naturally as she pushed back a curl behind her ear. It had been a long time since she had done that around him, hell, maybe even as far back as the SR-1, maybe? This did nothing to boost his confidence in the awkwardness of the situation.
"Ah, let's not go there. Victus is exactly who you need to get the job done in a time like this. Perhaps a bit, unorthodox, but still," he turned his eyes back to his calibrations, "dependable."
"I happen to know another turian with strikingly similar qualities," she took a step closer to him, placing a cool hand on his gloved ones. "Is someone unfamiliar with customary human reunions?" she teased.
"Hmm," he couldn't help but sigh at her touch. No matter how they last parted, having her back, knowing she was safe here with him, put his mind at ease. Her words hung in the air, almost tangible. Dependable. Had she begun to forgive him?
He straightened up and turned to her, still unable to look straight in her piercing eyes. How safe with him was she really? The thought made his bones ache in remembered pain, which unfortunately showed on his face.
"I'm teasing Garrus, honestly," she took his scarred face in her soft palm, "It's just good to see you again," a smile appeared on her perfect full lips. A memory came to him of how soft they felt on his face plates, and suddenly longed for that feeling again.
"Well give me a bottle of cheap wine and some mood music and let me try this again," he quietly chuckled, remembering their first liason together. Shepard couldn't help laughing too, remembering his awkward and fumbling attempt to lighten the mood before confessing his true feelings. He wanted to talk to her about what happened between them before he left, but as she tenderly grazed her pink fingers against his plates, he couldn't bare to trouble her further. He instead decided to switch to a subject both soldiers were more comfortable with: the progress of this war.
