Garrus and Shepard abandoned the skycar in favor of a much faster, private shuttle. The flight from Vancouver, across the ocean to London, would be an eight hour flight. Thankfully the shuttle was self-driving, needing only the destination punched into the interface for it to operate. They- or rather Garrus- primarily passed the time by sleeping. He was exhausted after his excursion at the hospital.

"I've slept enough," Shepard told him after he expressed his concerns for her own sleep. She then bumped her shoulder playfully against his and said, "You go on. I've got first watch."

The call of sleep was alluring, but no more than she herself was. Garrus longed to be close to her, to sleep with his head resting in her lap and her hand stroking the top of his fringe, but when they tried, the muscles in her legs protested at the pressure placed upon them. She made a valiant effort to ignore the discomfort, but when Garrus cracked an eye open and caught her wincing he sat up immediately. He settled for the empty bench across from her.

It was a restless sleep that Garrus fell into and he had a feeling it would remain that way until he had Shepard safely off planet, away from the Alliance. He didn't like closing his eyes without the feel of her body against his for fear that she wouldn't be there when he opened them again. Mercifully, he found her each time he woke, staring pensively out the window. He took a private moment to watch her without sitting up, marveling at the very presence of her because she was alive.

"Safe enough to answer my question now?" He'd been caught. She never looked at him, but somehow noticed his wakefulness all the same. It was scary how good she was at that, a sign of a master infiltrator. She could observe someone without them ever knowing they were being watched.

His fatigued mind didn't immediately follow.

At his silence, she reiterated. "How you found me?" She turned her head to look at him then, the vista out her window forgotten if she had even been watching it at all. "You got the information from that agent, didn't you?" It was a statement, not a question.

Garrus slowly sat up from his seat. "Yes," he nodded. "Victus sent her."

"I figured as much." Of course she did. "I've never met a Black Watch agent, but the name doesn't exactly inspire a sense of openness and the turian that visited me didn't exactly strike me as an extrovert. Only the Primarchs have authority over the Black Watch, right? I don't know many Primarchs so it was pretty easy to put the pieces together."

Garrus wasn't ready to talk about Victus. He could already feel his irritation bubbling to the surface at the mere mention of the barefaced diplomat he'd become. Still, Shepard had a right to know. "He was the one that found out you were alive. I don't exactly know how, but it had something to do with an SOS signal he received after a communication with Hackett."

"Hackett?" Surprised, Shepard gave him a wide-eyed look. It then melted away to be replaced by a mischievous smile. "I guess I owe him a drink then. He visited me a few times, but I never thought he would..." She trailed off to pull the inside of her bottom lip between her teeth; an old, decidedly Shepard habit.

"If you owe him a drink, Victus must owe him twelve. Turns out it was a warning that the Alliance was sending a hitman to kill him-"

"They what?"

Garrus nodded gravely, knowing how much she hated hearing what her beloved Alliance had become. "Well, they had help from the Primarch of Invictus."

"Why?" She asked, tone hushed with disbelief.

"If Victus ever found out, he hasn't told me."

"Why would he tell you?"

Garrus instantly regretted his slip. Not only because the subject irritated him, but because he would have to explain how their friendship began. He would have to tell her what her death did to him and how Victus took it upon himself to help him through it because he knew what it was like to lose the person you bonded to. He had yet to have that conversation with Shepard and now was certainly not the time.

He must have taken too long to answer because Shepard drew her own conclusion from his silence. "I take it you saw a lot of the Primarch after the war."

Garrus barely managed to suppress a snort. "I saw far more of that man than I ever needed to." Shepard's copper brows knitted together, her expression puzzled. "By that, I mean I worked closely with him for a time." He quickly rephrased, picturing the gutter her thoughts were heading. "Got my Reaper Task Force going again and used it to start tracking down all the fallen Reapers on Palaven so we could tag them and send them on a one-way trip into Trebia- the Primarch's order."

Shepard made a hum of approval despite the withdrawn lines of her body. "I knew I liked that turian."

Garrus huffed a laugh. "I told him you'd approve." For a brief moment, his anger at his former friend had abated, replaced by a sudden surge of fond memories. He almost followed up his words with 'he liked you too,' but refrained when his last conversation with the newly elected Councilor came to mind.

'A commodity,' he'd called her.

She was eyeing him curiously so he pressed on with his story. "Anyway, by the time they sent the assassin, Black Watch had already been dispatched. After that it was simply a matter of waiting for the proper intel to come back." He flared a mandible, forming a waggish smirk. "I guess Victus took offense to the attempt on his life because he came to me with the footage and then executed the Invictus Primarch." Embarrassed, he rested his hand on the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise as he prepared to explain, "He-uh... made me a Spectre after that so I could come get you."

Shepard's eyes gleamed brilliantly as a bright grin lit up her face. Garrus had to remind himself to breath. "I thought I heard Coat's say... Damn, Vakarian. It finally happened, huh?"

"It did." Garrus' mandible flicked into a humorous grin. "And it only took Armageddon to make it happen."

She chuckled softly, her expression warm. "Spectre Vakarian," she uttered slowly, testing the sound of it on her tongue. "That's going to take some getting used to." A small hand rose to trail delicately across his mandible, making him shiver. "But I like it."

Garrus cleared his throat, feeling the heat on his neck more than ever now as well as the burning paths her fingers left. "Please, it's just-"

"Garrus to me?" Her grin never faltered as she uttered the words he'd said to her the last time they were reunited after her death. She met his gaze with indomitable eyes, bright with a passion she held only for him. This was his Shepard. Not a clone. Not a replica. This was the woman he had fallen so hard for without even knowing that he had.

"What?" Her smile faded then, a question in her eyes and Garrus realized he was staring. Then he was on his feet, crossing the small span of floor to her in a single stride and he was on her. His mouth found hers and his knees found the edge of the bench. He felt her hand slide up the back of his neck, beneath his fringe and knew he couldn't wait anymore. His body screamed to join with her own.

Garrus drew his talons up the outsides of her thighs and then up under her hospitable gown, relishing the way she gasped into his mouth when his fingers slid over the curve of her hips. She wore nothing underneath, nothing to get in his way and he growled when his grip found her slender waist. He was desperate to be close to her, eager to be inside her and his body instinctively rolled his armored groin against her pelvis while his hands slid up to support her back as he lowered her to the bench-

"Ouch," she hissed, bringing his advances to a grinding standstill.

He quickly pulled away from her mouth, the taste of her lingering on his tongue, and asked, "What's wrong?"

Her face was still contorted in a painful grimace, which drove Garrus further away. "Sorry," she grunted. "Everything still hurts a little. My legs and lower back, mostly."

Of course she was still hurting. She had been in a coma for how long while she recovered? He knew, from the footage, the doctors were putting her through physical therapy, but he knew that in of itself was hell and she had to suffer through it alone without the support of those who loved her. He shrunk away from her, ashamed of himself for not considering the current fragile state of her body.

"It's alright, Garrus." She reached for his scarred mandible to cup her palm against it. Despite himself, he leaned into her hand, desperate for her touch. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked away from her, but she wouldn't be deterred. He felt pressure from her fingers, directing his wandering eyes back to her. "I just need a little more time to heal, that's all."

Garrus nodded against the palm of her hand, still feeling embarrassed at his rashness, but he would wait for as long as she needed to. The last thing he ever wanted to do was cause her pain and he wordlessly sealed that vow to her by pressing his mouth against the delicate skin of her wrist; One of her favorite spots to be kissed, he remembered.

"Did I hurt you back there? When I was carrying you?"

Her mouth pressed into a tight line, an indication that she was reluctant to answer. After a moment, she nodded. "A little, but the adrenaline helped." The grim line of her mouth softened, the corner tugging up. "That, and it felt damn good to shoot again. Not exactly what the doctor ordered, but..."

"Which reminds me, you did realize I had two pistols you could have used instead, right?"

"Sure I did, but I felt more comfortable with a scope to look into. I figured I'd do less-well... permanent damage applying my aim to my weapon of choice."

"I'm pretty sure I saw a few hands go flying," Garrus reminded her.

"Maybe." Shepard frowned, thoughtful. "Still better than losing a head. Besides, I really like your gun." Her eyes wandered to the opposite bench where the beloved rifle in question laid.

Garrus followed her gaze and then emitted a playful growl. "Afraid she's spoken for, Shepard. She may have cooperated with you back there, but it was a pity date, I assure you. She knows who her true master is."

"I don't know, Vakarian. It felt damn good in my hands."

He didn't miss the way her eyes darted towards his groin, a pointed look she knew he'd catch and she laughed when she met his gaze.

"We're not talking about guns anymore, are we?" Shepard replied with a shrug, her mouth quirked in an easy smile. "You're cruel."

They spent the last hour of the ride side by side, reveling in the presence of the other. Garrus had to remind himself to stop staring, though he couldn't help the glances he'd steal every now and again when he thought she wasn't looking and he'd privately celebrate when he caught her doing the same.

Every touch from her, even ones as innocent as a brush of the hand against his own, left him burning with want. Shepard always had a way of reducing him to a horny teenager during their private moments. Though, after a year of no real intimacy with anyone, it came to him as a slight relief that his body was still capable.

Sure, he tried moving on after he met a pretty turian woman named, Cybele. She was a nice girl that seemed to truly care for him even after that embarrassing night when they tried to take their relationship to the next step. Unfortunately, Garrus' body refused to respond. No matter what she did or how she touched him, her hard plates and sharp angles just didn't do it for him anymore. He remembered closing his eyes as she straddled him, hating himself as he thought of Shepard, but when he habitually brought his hands up to her chest and they closed around empty air, he knew the effort was in vain.

'It's alright,' she told him, bending from her place atop his hips to brush her brow against his. "We can try again another time."

Cybele was sweet, and so understanding. She deserved better than a man who up and left her the second he got wind of the other woman. She deserved someone who could actually bond with her. She deserved someone capable of looking at her the way he looked at Shepard now. Someone to marvel at the gleam of her plates the way he marveled at the copper halo that would appear on Shepard's head when the sun hit her hair. Someone to trace the lines of her colony markings the way he loved to do to the freckles on Shepard's cheeks and nose, especially the ones she, herself, wasn't capable of seeing with her human eyes.

'What are you staring at?' she'd ask him, playfully swatting his hand away.

'You have bigger spots on your forehead.' He told her, ignoring her repel to poke at them with the tip of a talon. 'Here. And here.'

'I do?' She exclaimed, leaping naked from the bed to check her mirror in the bathroom, only to reemerge with a puzzled look on her face. That was the day Garrus learned that he knew more about Shepard's body than even she did.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when his omni-tool suddenly lit up. He glanced down and saw a message from someone he'd regrettably ignored since he left the Normandy and her crew behind on Earth all those months ago.

J. Moreau [London, Earth]
1432
So I just heard a funny story. Apparently some big, angry turian just waltzed into a hospital in Vancouver, armed like The Terminator, and walked back out carrying Shepard! You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?

Garrus flicked his mandibles.

G. Vakarian [Atlantic Ocean, Earth]
1432
Can't say I've heard that one yet. Honestly, Jeff I'm insulted that you automatically assume I'd know the guy. I don't know every turian in the Galaxy, but if I did I'd say he's probably in need of a good pilot right now. By the way, I don't suppose you'd know a guy?

J. Moreau [London, Earth]
1433
You know what? I think I do. He's usually reallybusy being important and all, but I bet I can convince him to clear his schedule. He'll meet you at Dock 23 at London Port.

"Who is it?" Garrus looked up at the question and held his wrist out to Shepard so she could take in the holo-screen of his omni-tool.

"I might have secured us a pilot," he told her.

"Joker." She smiled at the name, but it wasn't to last. It faded faster than a child watching a moxie devour their dessert. Shepard's eyes locked onto his and she breathed a single name: "Edi."

Garrus felt his mandibles pinch against his jaw. That was another subject he wasn't keen to discuss with Shepard. She recognized the meaning behind it and she leaned towards him, her look growing sharp.

"She... went down the night the Reapers did."

While he and the Normandy crew were marooned on that planet, Garrus lost count of the number of times he thought to himself, 'This would be so much easier with EDI.'

Over the years, Garrus had developed a habit of ribbing the Normandy pilot with playful jokes about his condition. Looking back, they probably weren't very funny, but they were often in response to some turian-stick-up-your-ass joke from him. It was playful banter between them. Then Edi went down and Shepard was lost and, as it turned out, Joker was the stronger one between the two of them.

When the dust settled and the Normandy laid dormant in the mud, Joker immediately set to work towards repairing the vessel. Garrus, to his regret, wallowed in his grief. Crushed underneath the immense guilt he harbored over leaving Shepard behind, he nearly starved himself alone in the cabin he had shared with her. Then Tali forced her way in and made him get a hold of himself.

'We don't know anything yet, you bosh'tet!' She grabbed him by the front of his cowl and shook him. 'And we won't learn anything unless we get off this stupid planet. Now, are you going to help me with these couplings or not?'

For a while, he had hope again. All they had to do was get back to Earth...

Then they got back to Earth. It was all downhill from there.

Garrus watched the array of emotions flicker across Shepard's face, last of which was grief. She raised a shaky hand to cover her eyes and she turned away from him to face the window. Guilt, he recognized. He suspected that it had something to do with what happened after she... after she left him behind, but he doubted she wanted to talk about it now. So instead of asking, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her to his side. He rested his maxilla against the top of her head and, for a second, mused at how he never thought he'd miss the feeling of her hair tangled around his mandible.

"We can bring her back, Shepard," he told her, feeling how she began to shake with grief. "I don't know how, but we will."

After their shuttle made a smooth landing in London, Shepard recoiled from the window. Garrus gave her a puzzled look, but then remembered the message he had exchanged with Joker. News had undoubtedly spread about Commander Shepard's survival and Garrus didn't have to open the hatch to know there was a sea of reporters waiting just outside.

"You don't have to talk to them," he reminded her gently, placing a comforting hand on her knee.

"They're not going to make ignoring them easy," she countered, resigned to her fate.

"No," he agreed. "But I'm not going to make getting near you easy either." His sub-harmonics hummed a tune that would be soothing for a turian, but the resonance was too low for Shepard to hear. Garrus intentionally kicked the sound up and then reached for her hand to lay it gently against his throat so that she could feel them. Her eyes lingered on his throat before they rose to meet his gaze, a nervous smile cracking through.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, knowing the answer.

Predictably, she responded with a firm, "Yes."

"Good. I'm right behind you." He stooped to gingerly gather her in his arms again, careful not to jostle her. He would send for their things to be transferred to their new ship once she was safely passed the horde. Feeling Shepard's back pressed against his armor, he couldn't help flicking his mandible into a smirk and adding, "Literately."

Shepard released a breath of laughter though her nose, which Garrus almost missed beneath the sound of the hatch hissing open as it lowered to form a ramp. Before it had even reached the half-way point to the ground, flashbulbs started igniting in their faces. He felt Shepard press into him and didn't miss the steadying breath she sucked in.

Shepard didn't care for talking with reporters, it was always something she would do grudgingly, but this was different. It wasn't the voices she was recoiling from; it was the hundreds of flashes. Drones whirred up to them, their lenses shifting as they focused in on their faces. Garrus didn't care for the flashes either. They made him think of machine turrets on gunships and rockets. Torn plates and flesh as his blood sprayed from his neck and face while his eyes struggled to see past the flash of light. But his trauma was old. It had time to heal and scar over in the lines of flesh that marred his face. Shepard's aversion to explosions was new and, judging by the still-healing burn marks on her body, recent.

A comforting hum resonated anew from his second larynx and with Shepard held against him, he knew she could feel it as he took his first step down the hatch-turned-ramp. Camera drones were hot on his heels, zipping around their heads dizzily while they both ignored the hundreds of questions lobbed at them.

"Commander Shepard, where have you been?"

"Commander Shepard, are you alright?"

"We just have a few questions, Commander!"

Shepard's bare toes brushed against coats and camera lenses as the crowd pressed in on them suffocatingly. Her face was a stern mask of indifference, but he could see the tenseness around her eyes, the thin line of her mouth. She was putting on a brave face, but the ordeal was proving to be a tremendous amount of stress on her.

"Commander Shepard, the Galaxy needs to know what happened the night the Reapers were defeated!"

"What happened on the Citadel?"

"Is it true that you're dating this turian?"

Garrus dipped his mouth near her ear and mumbled, "You know, I still have my Widow on my back if you're up for some more target practice. I'm willing to share her again."

He was rewarded by a smile that had forced its way to the surface. Stress was still evident on her face, but her eyes told him that his joke was appreciated. Thankfully, the crowd around them was made up of mostly humans so Garrus had little trouble scanning above their heads for their destination. He read the signs as he passed them.

"Garrus! Garrus Vakarian, are you and Commander Shepard a couple?"

Docking Bay 19

"How did you know where to find her?"

Docking Bay 20

"There are rumors that Councilor Victus had a hand in this, Mr. Vakarian. Can you confirm or deny that?"

Docking Bay 21

"What is your relationship with the Councilor?"

Docking Bay 22.

"We're almost there," he told her, suppressing his own anxiety that threatened to seep into his voice.

Garrus shoved his way through the crowd without pausing to apologize for every foot he stepped on or every chin his elbows scraped. Finally, he approached the front desk that was set up in front of the door marked, Docking Bay 23. Garrus began to shift Shepard so that he could flash his omni-ID, but the receptionist waved him through, likely expecting his arrival. As Garrus made his way around the desk and through the doors, he heard the man stand from his desk and shout, "No reporters past this line!"

The steel door shut between them with a finality that silenced the pandemonium behind them. All that could be heard of the ongoing commotion was a low drone through the metal, which was easy to ignore in favor of the sight before them. Garrus froze as he and Shepard feasted their eyes on their designated ship.

The Normandy, in all her pristine glory, was docked like she was waiting for them to come home.

'It's been too long, girl.'

And standing -the best he could- in front of the vessel's entryway was her pilot. He was dressed in his Alliance uniform, his standard SR2 cap adorning his head and big grin on his face.

"I heard you were in the market for a pilot," he told them on their approach, eyes flickering between Garrus and Shepard.

"Might be," said Shepard, trying-and failing, for mock professionalism. Her joy at seeing her pilot again ruled the emotions on both her face and voice. "What are your credentials?"

Joker gingerly shifted his weight to his other leg. "Well, in 2183 I executed a rather impressive Mako drop on a little-known planet called Ilos. I had a Spectre on board, who needed it done and I was the man for the job-" Joker's voice changed to an embarrassing falsetto that Garrus could only assume was supposed to be Shepard. "-Help us, Joker, she said. You're our only hope!" Shepard snorted and shook her head in amusement. The pilot held up a hand and began listing off his exploits, using his fingers to count them. "I also led a fleet against the first Reaper to attack the Citadel, I'm the first pilot to fly a ship through the Omega 4 relay and return, my ship was at the head of the whole Galactic Fleet for Earth and... Oh yeah. That Spectre I mentioned earlier? It was Commander Shepard, I flew for. No biggie."

"Commander Shepard, huh?" Shepard glanced up at Garrus questioningly. "You heard of her?"

Garrus tilted his head to the side and pretended to look thoughtful. "I might've heard a thing or two about her. Here and there."

"Should we hire him?"

"Hm, I suppose a trial run couldn't hurt."

Joker rolled his eyes, but the smirk he wore betrayed his amusement. Then he did something Garrus had never seen the pilot do. He straightened his back- a trying task for him, and squared his shoulders before snapping the most militaristic salute Garrus had ever seen coming from him. His eyes were fixed firmly on Shepard's and his smirk faded. "Welcome aboard, Commander." The relief was palpable in his flat, human voice even without subharmonics and Garrus had to remind himself that he was hardly the only one who missed Shepard and mourned her.

Shepard returned the salute, an act that probably would have looked more impressive had she not been cradled in his arms. "Thanks. It's good to be back."

There were several events that occurred in his life that Garrus knew would be painted in his memories for the rest of his days. Unsurprisingly, Shepard had the starring role in about ninety percent of them. She wasn't exactly the type of person someone could forget. One such moment was when Shepard came crawling out from under the debris on the Citadel after Sovereign came crashing down on them. Another was when she slid along the ground on her belly, snatching his hand just as he went toppling over the edge of a collapsing platform in the Collector Base and then, subsequently, he returned the favor when she took that flying leap to the Normandy's hatch. A common thread that tied the memories together was adrenaline; Snippets in time when he was breathless throughout all of them. Yet, as he calmly carried Shepard through the Normandy's CIC, watching the lights dance across her freckled skin as she took it all in with a sort of reverence in her eyes, he had to remind himself to breathe. This, he knew, would be such a moment.

Garrus dipped his head, placing his mouth close to her ear and rumbled, "Welcome home, Shepard." Privately, he took pride in the way the flesh on her arm prickled at the close proximity of his voice. That was certainly something he missed.

Joker had alerted Dr. Chakwas the instant he established communications with Garrus and she was waiting for them at her post in the med-bay. Shepard groaned when they stepped off the lift and rounded the corner to approach the door.

"Just couldn't wait to get me back here, huh, G?" Shepard fixed him with a dry look.

Garrus flicked a mandible. "Don't blame me. You know she'd just come looking for you if I didn't."

"Benedict Arnold," she mumbled, her face pouting in the way only humans could. Garrus' steps slowed, confused at the name, and took mental note to look it up later.

When the doors to the med-bay opened and Dr. Chakwas turned in her seat to regard them, all pretenses of Shepard's ire dissipated instantly. The older woman's eyes traveled up and down Shepard's body, a clinical evaluation for her work ahead, but there was a wonder in her gaze as well. If Garrus didn't know any better, he'd say that the good doctor had not dared to believe the story that her favorite patient -though she'd never admit that aloud- was alive and mostly well. However, the tender moment was quick to pass and the doctor was all business once again. Detached and efficient.

"Place her over here, if you would, Garrus." She gestured to one of the hospital beds that she had clearly just prepped with clean, white sheets. "Thank you."

Shepard crossed her arms and shot the said table a withering look as Garrus approached it. Ever the star patient. "Here I thought you'd be happy to see me, Karin."

"You'll get your greeting after your evaluation," was all the response Dr. Chakwas gave, her thoughts preoccupied by all the tools she was drawing from their respective drawers. Garrus always admired the way the Dr. Chakwas could handle their Commander, even during her most prickly moments.

With Shepard safely in Dr. Chakwas' care and, really, there was no one he'd trust more to leave her with, Garrus gave her arm a gentle squeeze, a promise for his short return, and he ducked out of the med-bay. As the only other Spectre on board, the Normandy was under his command, a realization that slammed into Garrus as the slow elevator brought him to the floor of the CIC. Technically, he had just completed his first mission as a Spectre and, while it certainly could have gone a lot smoother, he had to take the results straight to the Councilor as promised. Though, he didn't relish the thought of letting Victus anywhere near Shepard in her state.

'A commodity.' He covered his disgusted growl with a deep, steadying breath as the elevator doors opened and he headed straight for the cockpit to inform their pilot of the rendezvous.

"We have a visitor."

Shepard's whisper drew him from his light slumber. He sat hunched, yet comfortable in his chair beside her bed, head resting on her belly, a feat only made temporarily possible by the painkillers Dr. Chakwas had given her to relax her tightened, damaged muscles. Of course, she protested at first. Garrus suspected that she had been kept heavily drugged while she was held captive in that underground lair. It was only her trust in Karin that she relented. He could see the relief on her face the moment the drugs kicked in and she let out a breath he doubted she was even aware she was holding. In turn, that lulled him into a state of relaxation and as his fatigue caught up to him, he began to drift. He felt elated when she gently pulled his head down to her so that he could rest against her. The thought that she craved his closeness just as much as he craved hers left an annoying lump in his throat that wouldn't go away no matter how many times he swallowed.

She would never know just how much she meant to him.

Garrus slowly opened his eyes, a task made difficult by the hypnotic way she gently stroked his fringe. It was as if her fingers were brushing away the harsh realities that threatened to barge in on their happy little existence. She must have sensed this because, regrettably, her hand ceased its movements and Garrus was forced to confront the interruption- a little anyway. He turned his head just enough to regard their intruder and instantly remembered what his sleepiness had caused him to forget.

Victus.

Garrus' body reacted before he could think, a primal impulse to protect his mate against a threat. And that's what he was, wasn't he? Gone was the man Garrus knew, the friend he'd drink and commiserate with. He was a politician now and politicians reduced people to numbers. He reduced Shepard as something to be used, but Victus was a new breed. He was a politician that seized power in the wake of unrest and desperation, ruthless enough to unravel the twine that held the fragile state of galactic peace together for his own gain and damn those who got hurt in the process. Though he was no longer the Chief Primarch, Garrus harbored no illusions that he didn't still hold the hearts and minds of those on the homeworld in one hand and, with the other, suppressed the other races under his thumb.

Over the course of a single year, Adrien Victus had, quite possibly, become the most powerful man in the Galaxy and Garrus would be damned if he was going to let his talons anywhere near Shepard.

He refused to allow her to be used and abused again.

However, he didn't wish to alarm Shepard in her current state so he suppressed his warning growl and shot the Councilor an icy look. The meaning would translate the same. Then his anger spiked when Victus' amber eyes returned his glare with nothing but complete indifference. It was as if there was nothing left of the man Garrus had come to call friend within the walking entity of power and authority.

"Something wrong?" He heard Shepard ask, obviously noticing the chilly exchange between both turians.

Ever the one that's quick with his answers, Victus replied with a curt, "No." Then, switching his tone to a gentler note, the Councilor asked, "May I speak with you privately, Commander?" That was exactly what Garrus didn't want happening, but Victus must have anticipated that because his sub-harmonics whispered a different meaning that was only for Garrus to hear. "I promise to be brief," they said, not unkindly. Still, they did little to actually assuage Garrus.

"Of course, Primarch... Councilor," she corrected. "Sorry. That's going to take some getting used to."

Victus smiled, a gesture Garrus didn't buy for an instant, and began to move towards her. "For me as well."

She laughed softly, not at all intimidated by the presence of the figuratively barefaced politician the way Garrus knew she should be, and she turned her attention back down to him. Sensing his anxiety, Shepard told him, "I'm not going anywhere, Big Guy. Give us ten minutes. I'm sure you can find something to calibrate in that time."

He shot her an annoyed look. "You're not as funny as you think you are."

"You know, the Alliance has had possession of the Normandy for some time now. Imagine how badly they've messed up that Thanix cannon."

'True,' he thought. 'But-'

"Shepard, there are things you can joke about and things you just can't."

"Who said I was joking?"

Garrus understood what she wanted. She didn't care about the state of the Thanix in that moment. Her body was damaged and injured, but she was still a soldier, a Spectre, and right now she was needed for a mission briefing. The woman looking down on him wasn't the sweet, delicate one that used to cuddle up to him, pressing her icy toes against his hide and then giggling when he would yelp and flinch away. This was the hardened Commander Shepard responding to duty. Still, the thought of leaving her alone with Victus didn't sit well with him. Garrus sat up to glance from her face to the side window toward the direction of the forward battery.

"Go on," she urged. "Ten minutes."

"Come now, Garrus." Dr. Chakwas swept from her desk to lay a comforting hand on the back of his cowl. "She'll be fine."

None of them knew Adrien the way Garrus did. What if Victus had some nefarious plan to kill her for the benefit of some ridiculous power-play that he'd convinced himself would work?

What if that was the real reason he wanted her retrieved?

The fact that Naash wasn't beside him did little to abate Garrus' anxiety. He knew Victus wasn't above getting his hands dirty.

Would he do that?

In the past, Garrus would have thought, 'No. Not a chance. He wouldn't betray an ally.'

Now...?

Garrus met Shepard's stare for a moment, sizing up her resolve, but he knew her mind was made up. Defeated, he began to lift himself from his chair at the doctor's behest. Then, in a gesture he never would have done in front of Victus during the war, he leaned over Shepard's bed and caressed the top of her head with his mandible before dipping his brow to press against hers. Pride swelled in his chest as he felt Shepard return the gesture, a sign that their relationship was no longer one to be kept on the down low. It hadn't for a while, especially towards the end of the war, and certainly not after Garrus pulled her out on the dance floor in front of a crowd of people. Still, the acceptance felt good and it felt even better in front of the Turian Councilor, regardless of who held the title.

Before they pulled apart, their eyes met and, once again, a wordless promise was exchanged. As Garrus turned from the bed and moved to pass Victus, all the tenderness that he knew was present in his eyes hardened over as he gave the Councillor another chilly look.

"Councilor," he greeted, without warmth.

"Spectre Vakarian."

Garrus sequestered his stormy thoughts within the confines of the cargo bay. Compared to what it was during the war, the large space was empty. Lonely, even. The first thing he was forced to acknowledge was the noticeable absence of the near constant bickering between Jimmy Vega and Steve Cortez, replaced by the lone drone of the Normandy's drivecore from above. He made a mental note to contact them both. Maybe they'd be interested in coming back to work under a Spectre, even if it was him and not Shepard. There were still hundreds of boxes and crates -of course- stacked high against the walls, a sight that hadn't changed, but the Alliance had removed the Kodiak as well as every other vehicle they had collected and stored. 'Of course they drive off with the vehicles and leave us the crap.'

Garrus would remedy that on their return trip to Earth once this business with the Councilor was done.

As he strolled along the wall of steel crates, he read the labels on the sides of them, mentally taking notes of what they would need to stock up on when they entered port again. A necessary task, he knew, but it also doubled as a distraction from the memories that haunted him in this space; a recollection of him screaming and struggling against Vega's grip the second the hatch sealed shut and the realization that Shepard wasn't coming had stabbed into his gut like a lance.

Garrus shook his head and began to read the crate labels out loud in an attempt to drown out the mental sounds of his own wailing.

"Couplings," he growled. "Brackets. Pistol mods. Sniper scopes-" He dragged that crate out and set it aside. "-Levo rations-" No Dextro though. He'd have to get that too. "-Mako parts-" 'Why?'

Garrus stopped when he met the Normandy's hatch, having reached the end of the wall of crates, but his abrupt halt was not simply due to running out of space. His eyes fell on a crate that had been placed apart from the others, likely having just been placed there at the last minute before takeoff. More specifically, he stared at the name written on the crate: Commander Shepard.

Garrus cast a quick scan behind him, an action more out of habit than anything, before he began to open it. Once opened, Garrus couldn't help but smile at the sight that met him.

Shepard's beloved Widow, Morticia. Someone had disassembled her, and to Garrus' chagrin, not properly. His mandibles pinched against his face when he noticed there were pieces still attached that shouldn't be and her optic mount leaned hazardously against the wall of the crate with all the weight of the frame pressing on it. Rage ignited inside him when he saw all the dirt and soot that still covered the gun. Whoever disassembled her, or attempted to, hadn't bothered to clean her up first. Hero of the whole damn galaxy and they couldn't even take care of her fucking gun for her.

'Cara Mia,' he mentally lamented, using the nickname Shepard had lovingly bestowed on the rifle as he stooped to lift the pieces gingerly into his arms. He cradled the dismantled rifle to his chest in much the same way he had done for her mistress only hours ago.

Standing from his crouch with his arms full of gun metal, he carried his charge to the loading bench and laid it gently on the surface as if lowering a snoozing fledgling into the nest. After retrieving a several rags and some gun oil, he set to work. Morticia wasn't his, but he would treat her as such. He wiped down every piece of black metal until he could see his face reflecting back in dark, inky images of himself. It was only after each piece past an inspection so thorough it would have made his dad proud, did Garrus start to reassemble the gun. He inwardly celebrated every satisfying snap and click as Morticia came back together anew.

Just as he knew Shepard would.

Once finished, he collected Morticia and made his way to the elevator. He had given the Councilor longer than the promised ten minutes and he was eager to see the look on Shepard's face when she saw her beloved rifle again. The thought of her beaming smile was enough to chase away his discontent at having to see Victus again and as he rode the lift up, Garrus bounced from foot to foot with anticipation. When the doors opened, he rounded the corner and strode briskly to the med-bay doors.

"Look what I found in the cargo-" Garrus drew to a sudden halt. "Bay."

He had no idea what had transpired between Shepard and the Councilor, but the atmosphere in the room was charged with a heavy tension. His eyes sought Shepard immediately and had managed to catch the look of shock she wore on her face before all traces of it were wiped clean. However, she was unable to hide the slightly weepy look in her eyes when she looked around Victus' shoulder and spotted him standing in the door. Her gaze found his first before they darted down to the burden in his arms.

"Morticia!" She exclaimed. "I've missed you so much!"

The temptation to ask about what he had walked in on was there, but he caught Shepard's lead. Her excitement over her gun was genuine, but he knew her well enough to recognize the cover that it was.

'Not now,' was what she really meant. 'We'll talk later.'

Garrus stifled his curiosity and played along. "Shepard, I've only been gone a few minutes- oh. You mean the gun."

Victus slipped past him without a word and exited the room. Good. The sooner he left, the better.

Garrus placed Morticia into her mistress' waiting arms. While Shepard's initial excitement was, in part, an act, it bubbled genuinely out of her the instant her hands closed around her faithful gun. He could almost see the end goals play across Shepard's eyes; to regain her ability to walk. Her ability to shoot.

Commander Shepard was living again.

"You just cleaned her, didn't you?" Garrus replied with a flare of his mandible and watched as she hefted the Widow, grunting from the effort, but determined to place her eye behind the scope. She tested her hold, her technique, like an athlete stretching old muscles. "You got the Vakarian treatment, huh girl? He's pretty good with his hands, I know."

Garrus grunted bashfully and looked away to quickly scan his surroundings for a hidden doctor that could have heard her lewd -though complimenting- comment. He saw no doctor, but as his gaze made its lap around the perimeter of the room, they inadvertently found the last thing Garrus expected to see. Victus, whom shockingly hadn't left yet, was standing just outside the med-bay window, watching them. At first, Garrus' body stiffened as he had when the Councilor first entered the room, but after only a second of watching him, he relaxed.

Gone was the ruthless stranger that started a race war for his own political gains. Gone was the man that looked him dead in the eye and called his bondmate a commodity. Garrus knew the man that stood outside, recognized the warm expression on his face because it was the very same one that shared the death of his own bondmate with him after literally beating sense back into him. It was the same one that took him on a hunting trip to get Garrus' head on straight. The same one that placed a comforting hand on his shoulder when he mourned Shepard after shooting the first Reaper into the sun.

In that instant, Garrus realized that even though he had Shepard back, he was still in mourning. Except now, it wasn't the loss of a bondmate he grieved for, it was the loss of a very good friend.

The walls of the med-bay were soundproof, so Garrus couldn't hear the older turian's subharmonics, but he could tell by the look in Adrien's eyes that they had to be humming a tune both elated and tragic. He watched Adrien watch Shepard, only guessing what was going through his mind. Then the amber eyes shifted from Shepard onto him and the array of emotions on Adrien's face were obliterated in the wake of the surprise that took over. He'd been caught with his walls down and he knew it. He expected the shock to leave just as quickly as the other emotions, so it was Garrus' turn to be taken aback when Adrien, instead of expectantly returning to a look of cold indifference, raised a hand in a subdued wave.

A goodbye and Garrus found himself reflexively returning it.

Then Adrien turned and nearly bolted away.

'No.'

"I'll be right back," he told Shepard and hurried for the corridor to stop Adrien before he could board the lift.

"Adrien, wait!" Garrus called as the med-bay doors shut behind him. Too late. He heard the elevator doors shut.

Garrus bolted for the fire escape hatch. When he reached the ladder, he grabbed the rungs and climbed quickly upwards, only to encounter the absurdly locked hatch that covered the top.

'No!'

Adrien had been there for him when he needed him most. It was time to return the favor, but with every failed attempt to get the hatch opened, he felt his chance to do so slip away from him. Garrus dipped his head and shoved the back of his cowl hard against the hatch once, twice.

"Damn it! Who the fuck locked the fire escape hatch?" Garrus bellowed angrily to no one in particular before slamming his back a third time, which resulted in the metal plate snapping up and slamming backwards against the floor with a violent bang.

"Adrien!" He called again, scrambling up from the hole in the floor. Garrus knew he had to have heard him, if not his voice than his subharmonics surely. Yet, at the lack of a response, it became clear to him that he was being ignored. Adrien wasn't just departing from the Normandy, he was making an escape. Garrus' anger spiked.

He sprinted through the CIC, ignoring the confused looks he received from the staff around him, and reached the bridge just in time to see Joker cast a fearful look between Victus, Naash, and then Garrus. He was about to call out to Joker, to tell him to seal the airlock, but his order came too late. The pilot was obviously intimidated by his opposition so he did what any person short of Commander Shepard would do, he opened the door and let them through.

"Damn it, Adrien, get your ass back here! Spirits, I'll hit you again!" Garrus shouted just before the doors sealed shut. He hurried to them, knowing Adrien had heard him and hoping the doors would reopen with his friend's return by the time he reached them, but they didn't. Garrus wanted to follow him through, but he stopped himself. Clearly, Shepard needed him more than Councilor Victus did or he would have stopped, would have heard him out. Still, the thought of losing yet another trusted friend stung him to his core and he turned a murderous look on Joker.

"What?" Joker bristled. "You didn't see the way he looked at me! I damn near shit my pants. He could've killed me!"

Later, Garrus would look back and understand Joker's position, but in that moment, he felt like throttling him. Not wanting to say something he couldn't take back, Garrus wheeled around and stormed away. He crossed the CIC and entered the elevator, Omega weighing heavily on his mind.

Once again, Garrus would have to find peace knowing he'd failed yet another friend.

When the doors opened on the crew deck, Garrus rounded the corner and went straight for the med-bay. Shepard looked up at the sound of his return, her face tight with concern. He could tell by the wrinkled sheets that her hands had been worrying the fabric. Without a single word, he dragged his feet across the room and resettled into the chair beside her bed, the human seat squeaking its protest to his weight. He was unable to bottle the tired groan that escaped him and he didn't bother to wait for a second invitation before he returned his head to its previous resting spot upon her stomach. She allowed it, as he knew she would, and resumed the soothing, back and forth motion of her hand along the spines of his fringe.

Her presence was a balm for his anger at both himself and at Victus. He understood that there was nothing he could do for his former friend. He had made his choice, clarifying where their friendship stood. Adrien didn't need nor want him around anymore. Maybe he never did.

Shepard's blunt fingernails made a light scratching sound as they glided slowly along his fringe. Adrien might not need him anymore, but she did. She needed him just as much as he needed her.

"Want to hear what he and I discussed?" She asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Garrus' eyes closed the instant he heard her voice and allowed himself to relax into her. His arm came up to reach across her lap and curl up along her side to lightly draw himself closer to her. He breathed deeply, basking in the scent of her that surrounded him and turned his head to nuzzle his nose against her soft stomach.

"No," he answered. "Not right now."

With his eyes still closed, he couldn't see the concerned look on her face, though he knew it was there. But the movements of her hand never ceased and he felt himself be pulled back into the sleepy abyss. Just before it claimed him with its warm embrace, he heard her whispered reply.

"Okay."