He could taste blood.

Blood and ash. For a few moments, his entire world seemed to be made of only these two things.

And the pain. Spirits, the pain!

It was worse than anything he had ever experienced. Worse than Omega, worse than the deaths of his team, worse than the loss of Shepard….

Shepard!

That single word, that single name, was enough to bring him back to his senses. He opened his eyes and willed himself to focus on his surroundings.

He was lying on the ground beside the wreckage of a Mako, the smell of melted human flesh assaulting his senses. The light of the Conduit was blazing before his eyes, casting a bright blue glow over his surroundings.

He sat up groggily, trying his best to make sense of his surroundings. Where was everybody? Vega? Anderson? Liara?

Liara! Oh no, Spirits no. . .

He remembered, the memory slithering into his mind like something from another life. Liara had been right behind him as they made the mad dash to the Conduit. Just as Harbinger's beam had lanced across the battlefield heading straight for him, he had stumbled on the corpse of a husk and had felt the force of a hasty biotic push forcing him away from its path.

Liara. One of his few surviving friends had sacrificed herself to save him. Him and Shepard. . .

Shepard! Once again clarity returned to him. He had to find her.

Spirits no!

There she was lying a dozen meters away from him, face down and unmoving. Her armor was still smoking, no doubt having taken more than a glancing blow from Harbinger's cannon.

Please let her be alive. I can't lose her!

He dragged himself towards her, his legs no longer able to support his weight. His damaged visor giving him erratic readings.

"Shepard," he croaked as he reached her body. "Shepard, please don't. . ."

He turned her over and felt a wave of relief hit him as he felt her soft breathing. She was alive! Thank the Spirits. . .

But not for long, a cynical voice whispered in the back of his mind. Her injuries were horrific, her armor practically melted into her skin and he didn't need his damaged visor to tell him that her vitals were steadily dropping.

Get out of here, his mind ordered him. Get her safe. As long as she was alive, they still had hope.

He tried hailing the Normandy on his comm but got no response. He cursed. What the hell is going on?

He got his answer as he looked up.

Above him loomed the shape of the bane of their existence, Harbinger. He seemed to be engaged in battle with a ship of some sort.

Hang on! Not just any ship. The Normandy!

Joker, what the hell are you thinking. . .

He watched as the Normandy divided towards the Reaper, landing blow after blow with its powerful Thanix cannon. Garrus was pleased to see that it was causing some damage as well. Perhaps with a bit of luck. . . .

The thought had barely crossed his mind when Harbinger's powerful beam scored a direct hit on the ship and disintegrated it.

Garrus couldn't believe his eyes. The Normandy was gone, just like that.

His home. Shepard's home. All their friends. Gone. . . .

This can't be happening.

"Garrus. . . ."

The soft voice jolted him out of his stupor. He turned to regard the woman he held in his arms.

"Shepard. . ."

She was awake. Weak, injured. . . . but still she was awake. His mind once again kicked in. He had to get her out of here. As long as she was still alive, they could continue fighting, they could. . .

"Garrus. . . ."

"Shepard please, save your strength. We need to. . . ."

"Garrus!" she forced him to look at her. Her eyes, bright green, burning with passion, beseeching him to listen, to understand...

"I've. . . been. . . indoctrinated."

That was when Garrus finally admitted it to himself.

They had lost.

It had all been for nothing. All the pain they had borne, all the effort they had put in, all the people they had lost.

Mordin, Wrex, Legion, Tali, Thane, Alenko, Miranda, Kasumi, Anderson, Vega, Liara, Joker, EDI, Chakwas. . . .

All their deaths, all their sacrifices had been for nothing.

"I'm sorry," Shepard whispered. She had seen the realization in his eyes.

Garrus merely looked at her. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to say.

Dimly he was aware of the giant form of Harbinger turning his attention towards them, its giant cannon charging up for the final blow.

"I love you. . ." Garrus whispered as he threw himself over the woman who meant everything to him, shielding her one last time.

A flash of red light, a giant mechanical roar, a searing flame hotter than a thousand suns. . . .

Garrus Vakarian felt his world end.


The first thing that crossed his mind as woke up that the afterlife was strangely comfortable.

Dimly, he remembered human sayings about heaven being somewhere up in the clouds.

Perhaps he floating on such a cloud. . . .

He opened his eyes slowly.

The next thing to cross his mind was that the afterlife strangely reminded him of his apartment on the Citadel.

Heh. My apartment. . . .

He bolted upright suddenly on his bed. His apartment!?

He looked around carefully. Was this some kind of sick joke the Reapers were playing on him? Trapping him in his own head, in an illusion of his apartment?

He scratched the top of his head. No, this wasn't how indoctrination was supposed to work. He was supposed to be hearing voices, having strange dreams, seeing strange things, feeling the sudden urge to worship giant alien bio-mechanical cuttlefish.

He scratched his head in confusion as he moved to the bathroom. Nope, he certainly did not feel the urge to start worshiping giant cuttlefish.

Then what the hell is this supposed to be?

The water felt cool as it splashed on his face, forcing away his fatigue and returning clarity of thought to him. His mind searched for a possible explanation. Was he hallucinating? If so, this was a very vivid hallucination.

He glanced absently at his reflection in the mirror and froze. . .

His face. His face was. . . normal.

He examined himself eagerly in the mirror. His scars were gone, his right mandible was as sharp as it had always been.

He looked completely normal. Or as normal as he had looked during his C-Sec days. . .

Hang on. His C-Sec days?

Crap.

He bolted out of the bathroom, nearly falling over his own feet in his haste to get to his omni-tool. He snapped it on his arm clumsily and activating it, quickly checked the time.

It was 7:00AM Citadel time. No problem.

The date however made his blood freeze. Specifically the year.

2183.

...

...

Oh crap!


Today was the first time that Garrus Vakarian had called in sick to work. Executor Pallin had not been pleased.

But Garrus Vakarian didn't give a damn. He had bigger problems.

No, scratch that. . . . problem was not the right word to describe his current situation.

In fact, Garrus was pretty sure there was no word in any language to describe his current situation.

He had returned to the past.

He had fucking time-travelled.

Ridiculous. . . .

His first thought when he had seen the date was that he had finally cracked under all the pressure. But a quick tour around the Citadel had informed him otherwise.

This wasn't the Citadel that he had fought through just a few months ago to protect the citizens from Cerberus.

No, this was his Citadel. The one that had existed before Cerberus, before Saren, before Sovereign. . . .

The one that Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec detective knew like the back of his hand.

He stood on one of the walkways overlooking the Presidium Lake. All around him, people went about their business like always. Unaware. Unafraid.

He breathed in the familiar air. This wasn't a hallucination. This was real.

He really was back.

But why?

Why had he come back to where it had all began? Was he the only one? Did anyone else know about what was about to happen?

Why him?

Was this just another cruel trick the Reapers were playing on him? Making him lose everything and everyone important to him all over again? His friends? His family? Shepard. . . ?

An icy rage blossomed in the pit of his stomach. Not Shepard. Not again. . . .

Or perhaps it was something different? Perhaps someone out there had finally gotten sick of all the injustice in the galaxy, and decided to give him a second chance.

A chance to do it again. A chance to fight again.

He gripped the railing before him tight.

A chance to make it all right.

Suddenly he remembered a few lines from an Earth poem that he had heard Williams recite on one of their more difficult missions.

"Once more into the fray

Into the last good fight I'll ever know

Live and die on this day

Live and die on this day"

He smiled coldly to himself. Yes, it was apt. He was going into battle once more. It was fitting that this be his guide.

Only he had no intention of letting himself or anyone else die this time round.

No, dying was something he was going to leave to the Reapers.

He straightened up and walked away, back straight, eyes lit with purpose.

Garrus Vakarian was a turian on a mission, and Spirits have mercy on anyone stupid enough to get in his way.


AN: So, what do you guys think? Reviews please.