Garrus had only been to Earth once in his life, and that was spent thinking he was going to die. So, in his mind's eye, Earth was…shitty. He was sure it had once been beautiful, what with its lush greenery and towering structures, all built by the most fragile of the Galaxy's species.

But now, it looked like a dump. The spaceport at London was destroyed, so the little Volus carrier ship that had taken him to Earth had dropped him off in one of the lesser decimated parts of the area – which happened to be a moor several miles from the actual city. He was grateful all the same, and attempted to pay his brief hosts with whatever chits he had left. But the two Volus had thrown up their hands and backed away, saying that it was their pleasure and to please thank the Shadow Broker for such an opportunity.

The air still smelled like smoke, even if it had been something of a week since the battle. In the distance, Garrus could make out the blackened husks of what had once been huge buildings, now brought down to half their original size. If he squinted, he could barely make out the fallen corpse of a Reaper, its once bright cybernetics now black and dead. He grunted in satisfaction. If they had done anything right, it was surely that.

The trek towards the city was long and wearing. He had brought along a small pack of provisions along with his rifle – enough to last him a few days at least. He'd worry about anything else later – Shepard needed him.

Garrus came upon hunks of blackened metal and stone that increased in number the closer he got to the city. It truly did look like the warzone it was. With a sharp pang in his chest, he realized Palaven must not look much different.

Thinking of his home planet brought his father and sister to the forefront of his mind. Guiltily, he realized that he hadn't attempted contact with them yet. For all he knew, they were dead. They almost certainly thought he was.

They'd understand, he told himself. Because he knew they were still alive, just like he knew Shepard was. But Solana and Castis had each other – Shepard was alone. The thought of his dear commander made him walk even faster, weaving in between fallen structures and crawling over broken fences.

London was as empty as he had expected. With the survivors of the assault having been evacuated to safer locations, the city felt dead. As Garrus made his way quietly around the broken streets, he tried not to look at the signs of death all around: the blackened outline of a crouching form against a building, a gray hand reaching from beneath a pile of rubble, a gun laying abandoned and crushed on the sidewalk. Thankfully, most of the bodies had been retrieved – Garrus wasn't sure how he'd be able to cope if there were corpses in plain sight.

He came upon the shell of a Reaper, its massive form taking up a good portion of this side of the city. Getting close to it made his lungs seize with fear, but there was really no way around it. He walked up to it, the acrid stench of smoke making his nostrils burn. He coughed, backing away slightly from the corpse. It had definitely been on fire at one point, and the burning cybernetics probably created poisonous fumes. Garrus brought his helmet up, letting out a sigh of relief as the worst of the smoke was filtered away.

The Reaper, despite its massive size, looked a lot sadder in the light of day. Like a fallen warship, it was crumpled and filled with burned holes. It looked like part of it had already been scrapped. The once vibrant cybernetic innards spilled out the sides like it had been gutted.

He gave its side a sharp kick, which made his foot hurt. At least it quelled the anger in his heart. At least for now.

Garrus continued walking through London as the sun set. He could see Earth's one moon in the sky, its ghostly form barely visible behind the thick clouds. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. He knew he was heading in the general direction of where the beam had been, of the center of the carnage. He was hoping to come across someone, anyone, but the streets were barren.

He hadn't noticed during the battle, but Garrus was slowly becoming aware of how cold Earth was at night. Not as cold as ice planets, but definitely much less comfortable than he wanted. Garrus begrudgingly turned on one of the heat coils inside his armor, not wanting to waste it but also already much too cold.

The darkness was settling, and Garrus realized that he'd need to find shelter soon. Of the buildings that were still upright, not a lot of them looked habitable. So he kept walking, keeping an eye out for somewhere he could hold up. He wasn't too sure about Earth, but walking around at night alone on Palaven was asking for some predator to pick you up as its dinner.

As he was walking down one of the less damaged streets, something caught his eye. It was an orange glow inside a broken window on the upper part of a mostly-intact building. A fire? Feeling mildly optimistic about finding someone, he made his way over to the building.

The door was easy enough to open – the only thing holding it from falling over was a chair made of wood. Not the sturdiest material, Garrus mused. He wondered why humans bothered still using it.

Not wanting to look threatening (which was stupid, he realized, as these could be humans who had never seen a Turian before), Garrus settled his rifle behind his back. However, his pistol remained ready at his hip. Slowly, he ascended the stairs. He could hear voices – a good sign. There were definitely beings up here. Hopefully they were willing to be friendly.

The door to the room with light in it was closed. The voices here were louder, but he couldn't quite pick up what they were saying. Suddenly feeling sheepish, Garrus almost went back down the stairs. But the voice in the back of his head (which sounded an awful lot like Shepard's) told him not to be such a pussy. He knocked.

The voices in the room stopped abruptly. He could hear a few murmurings, and then footsteps. Garrus sent a small prayer to whoever was listening that he wasn't about to be shot on the spot.

The door opened a crack, revealing the face of a human man. He looked young, but not unsure of himself. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Garrus cleared his throat. "My name is Garrus Vakarian. I'm looking for someone. Perhaps you've seen her."

The man shook his head. "Nope. You're the first Turian I've seen in a week." He started to close the door, but Garrus caught it, desperation making him reckless.

"She isn't Turian," he said, "she's human."

The man stopped trying to close the door, reopening it slightly. He looked Garrus up and down, his mouth pinched.

"Fine," he said, giving in. "You can come in. But leave your weapons outside."

Garrus hated parting with his rifle even for a second, but he took it off and lay it down next to the door, along with his pistol. The young man seemed to sense his discomfort, because he gave Garrus a slight grin. "Don't worry, it'll be safe. There's nobody out here." Garrus didn't bother pointing out that he had been out there, but didn't want to push his chance to have a warm place to sleep and some questions answered. He stepped gratefully into the room.

There were six other humans in the room, all sitting around a contained fire. They all glanced up at him as he answered, eyes wary. One of the humans, a skinny male, immediately leaped up and threw himself against the wall.

"You let him in?" he snarled, narrow eyes flashing angrily at the man who had opened the door. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

The original man grimaced. "He's harmless. I took away his weapons."

"He's still a bloody alien," the skinny man said. His eyes darted to Garrus. "Fuck knows what he could do."

"Oh, shut up, Cole," one of the other humans, a female, said. "If you left your flat more often you'd see more aliens." She turned to Garrus and smiled. It struck him how similar to Shepard she looked – red hair, green eyes, and numerous freckles. She was much younger, however. Humans could look similar to him sometimes. "Don't mind him, he's a fucking freak. I'm Souzan."

"Garrus," Garrus greeted back. "And don't worry, I won't savage you." She laughed, but Cole glowered.

"I'm Brandon," the man who had answered the door said. "And that's Tavi, Fayth, Stroud, and Layla." He pointed to each of the other humans, whom Garrus nodded to.

"Have a seat!" Souzan said, patting the floor next to her. Garrus didn't much like sitting on the ground, but he took the seat anyway, not wanting to offend his hosts.

"So you're looking for someone?" Brandon asked. He had remained standing, his back against the door. Garrus suddenly realized that he was the only human in the room wearing military fatigues.

"Yes," Garrus said. He was feeling very large in this room – usually there was someone bigger than him. Then again, he was surrounded by humans. "An Alliance commander. Jane Shepard."

The room went quiet. Even Cole, who was still pasted to the corner, looked mildly surprised.

"You're looking for Commander Shepard?" one of the women – Tavi – asked. Garrus nodded.

"Do you know her? I know she spent some time in London –"

"Of course we know her," Souzan interrupted. Her eyes were huge. "She's super famous."

"I mean, she's the first human spectre," Brandon put in. "That's huge for humanity."

"Plus she was in the top vids for the last three weeks," Tavi added. "I don't think I know anyone who wouldn't recognize that name."

Garrus felt like an idiot. Of course they'd know who Shepard was – she was basically humanity's savior. But this also meant that she could be easier to locate.

"Have you seen her?" he asked, his subvocals just barely squeaking in desperation. Spirits, if he had been talking to another Turian they would have laughed. Luckily, the humans' hearing wasn't nearly sensitive enough.

They all looked at each other, suddenly quiet. One of the females who hadn't spoken yet looked over at him with questioning brown eyes.

"Isn't she dead?"

Garrus growled in frustration. "She isn't actually, and I know she's out here somewhere. I need to find her as soon as possible."

"I think we would have noticed Commander Shepard wandering the streets of London," Cole grumbled. "If she isn't buried under the rubble like everyone else."

Garrus snapped his teeth on an angry retort. He stood up and paced to the window, sweeping some of the glass away so he could lean out and feel the air. With all the time he'd spent around Shepard and the Normandy crew, he'd forgotten how annoying some humans could be.

"Did the council send you to find her?" the small voice of the brown-eyed girl piped up. He'd already forgotten her name.

"Not exactly," he said slowly, unsure whether or not he should trust these people with his reasons for being here.

"Then why are you here?" Cole spat. "Chasing ghosts? You some fan or something?"

Garrus spun suddenly, his anger making him clutch his talons into fists. "Because she's my mate, you squishy idiot!"

Everyone stared at him once again, expressions of total surprise on their faces. Garrus quickly realized what he had said and cursed. He was more stressed than he thought, having an outburst like that. It took a great deal to make him angry.

"She's your mate?" Souzan asked, her eyes like tiny moons.

Not seeing the point in denying it, Garrus nodded. It felt…strange to say it aloud. He'd barely even thought about the term, let alone admit it to himself or a bunch of aliens. "Yes," he said, his deeper vocals humming with embarrassment. "So you understand why I need to help her."

The brown-eyed girl glanced at Souzan, and then at Brandon. "We have to help him," she said.

Brandon raised an eyebrow. "How are we supposed to do that, Layla? We barely know what to do with ourselves."

"It's for love, Brandon!" Souzan exclaimed, leaning over Layla. "Like Fleet and Flotilla! Don't you remember the episode when –"

"This isn't your alien soap opera, Souz," the quiet man in the back said. His voice was deep, almost like a Krogan's. "And we already promised that we'd look for supplies at the Port, which is in the completely opposite direction."

"Stroud's right," Brandon said. Souzan opened his mouth to protest, but he raised his palm. "We can't help Garrus. I'm sorry."

Garrus could almost feel his energy leaving him like a deflating balloon. The first hope he'd come across, and they were useless. He'd have to go on alone, and try and find his way towards her.

"But we can take him to someone who can help," Brandon said. Garrus's head whipped up, letting out a trill of hope. "One of us can take him to Colonel Stark – if anyone can help him, he can."

"I can take him," Layla offered, raising a petite hand. "He is my father after all. He'd listen to me. And I trust Garrus."

"He's my father too!" Souzan argued, giving Layla a somewhat forceful nudge. Garrus hoped that Brandon wouldn't agree to let her come – she was proving to be exhausting.

"Your sister has some medical training," Brandon growled. "She can actually be some help." Souzan pouted, but didn't argue further.

"It's very kind of you to be doing this," Garrus said, bowing his head down slightly. "I don't want to impede what you're doing in any way."

"It's no problem," Layla shrugged. "I need a break from Cole anyway." The mentioned man huffed and turned his head away. Garrus felt his mandibles twitch into a smile.

"That settles it then," Brandon said. "We leave first thing in the morning."