The marauder screams as the blade tears through it, starting from its belly and ripping upwards, out through the shoulder, with enough force that it's lifted clean off its feet before flesh and bone and exoskeleton give way completely. Garrus can do little more than stare in open-mouthed surprise as the now-lifeless corpse is flung aside like a ragdoll, spraying him with more blood and other viscous things.
Seconds ago he'd been certain he was going to die. Now this. He struggles to make out the face of his saviour through the smoke and darkness, and his shock redoubles when he does. What are the odds..?
"Wrex!"
He's never been so glad to see a krogan in his life, let alone this krogan.
Wrex flicks blood from the shotgun's bayonet with nonchalant ease, grins and says something to him as the rest of the krogan squad fans out, surrounding them in a protective circle.
"What? I can't hear you!" he shouts - or hopes he shouts - gesturing towards his head.
Wrex leans down towards him and fairly roars in his ear. He can just make out the words.
"I said: are you just going to lie on your ass all day, Vakarian? We've got a war to win!"
Two from the squad peel off and start clearing away the remaining rubble trapping him. Within mere seconds he's free. He wiggles his feet cautiously, testing, and concludes that the damage could have been much worse. His armour did its job for once. Standing, though, will be the real test.
"Well, actually I was just thinking about retiring here," he says shakily, accepting Wrex's outstretched hand. "I think I'll put the house just over... there. Something light and airy."
Wrex just shakes his head, and hauls him, wincing, to his feet.
"Can you walk?" The krogan's voice comes through more clearly this time, and Garrus realises he can just - just - make out gunfire around them. From totally deaf to only mostly deaf. His day is getting better by the second.
He tests his weight on his previously trapped leg and finds it stiff but otherwise good to go. He just wishes he could say the same for the rest of him. The rift in his chest has re-opened and he suspects it's going to start really hurting any moment now. Worse, the euphoria of fear and adrenaline are rapidly fading, leaving behind fatigue and a lot of nasty little chemical by-products. He's aware that he's trembling slightly from their wash. Wrex, at least, has the good grace to pretend not to notice.
"I... I think so."
"Good, 'cause we're going to be running in a minute. Northern flank's collapsing. We're falling back to a better position before we're up to our asses in harvesters or worse." He pauses, hesitating to ask the question, and then nods once towards the dark centre of the crater. "Shepard make it?"
Garrus manages a smile, and then wishes he hadn't when what remains of his face reminds him of the indignities so recently inflicted upon it.
"Of course Shepard made it. It's what she does."
"Of course." Wrex grins, scoops up Garrus' rifle and throws it to him in one fluid motion, followed by a few spare clips. Then his expression sombres again. "Wish I'd got here sooner. I should be up there."
Garrus sighs, thinking of the lone running figure. Of Shepard, battling her way through whatever hell lies on the Citadel, without him. Without any of them.
"You and me both. And Javik-" The two of them look down at the wrecked, lifeless body of the last Prothean and Garrus sighs again. There's no time for speeches. "Well, at least it's how he wanted to go."
Wrex nods, rests a surprisingly light but companionable hand on his shoulder, and then turns back to his squad.
"All right you bunch of miserable pack of vorcha! We're done here. Fall back to the FOB."
"Fall back?" one of the younger, less scarred Krogan shouts back, alive with bloodlust as he mows down husk after husk with his brothers in arms. "Krogan don't retreat! I'm not-"
Wrex grabs the youth by his hump as he starts to charge forward, away from the group, and hauls him bodily around so that they're face to face. He jabs with an angry finger up towards the sky.
"Shepard's up there right now fighting to give us a better future. You just want to throw that away? We fall back, we live, we kill Reapers and tomorrow our sons will tell stories of our glory." He releases the youth with a hard shove and spits at his feet. "Well, mine will at least. Your choice."
She makes it to the elevator, trying hard not to pay too much attention to her surroundings. To the mountainous dead. She's already lost the contents of her stomach once, and she can't afford to do so again. The effort of being sick had been nearly enough to end it, there and then, and it took every remaining shred of her willpower to get back up onto her feet once more after collapsing.
It may still prove enough to end it, anyway. She can feel her body starting to shut down. There's blood in her mouth again. She can't feel the fingers of her left hand. Fine tremors wrack her, and there's a pained whimper hiding behind every shallow breath. She wants nothing more than to sit and sleep. There's nothing left now, not even adrenaline. Not even rage. Just dreadful purpose.
...will... kill... them...
She should have stayed with Garrus. But Garrus... Her head swims as she struggles to remember. Garrus hadn't really been there. They were in her head. She has to remember that. The Reapers had been in her head. She can't trust anyone she sees.
She presses the call button, noting absently that she's leaving a smear of blood behind, and rests her head against the cool metal surface. Her eyelids start to droop, and she forces them back open, staring with fixed, mute fascination at the display, counting down along with it, trying to remember what each level holds. She's only seen this part of the Citadel in her briefings. 15th floor - some famous drell art gallery or another. 13th has a moderately-sized C-Sec office with two holding cells and a small armoury of non-lethals. Banking on the 10th. Restaurants and shops on the seventh - it's the one with the overhanging balcony with the glass floor. Bureaucrats and more bureaucrats on the fifth and fourth. And on the third...
She actually laughs when the lift comes to an abrupt halt two floors above her and stays there. It's a clear case of either laugh or cry and, in the end, she actually does both, letting it burble forth even has she jabs clumsily at call button again and again. She's come all this way, only to be thwarted at the last by a recalcitrant elevator? Why does the universe hate her so damn much?
Because you fight the natural order of things comes the answering thought. It's not her own. Too deep. Too smug. Too knowing. Because you do not know your place.
Her anger flares back to life, exploding out from her heart like a supernova. She knows that voice. It even has a name. One word. One fucking word.
She. Will. Kill. Them. All.
She straightens as much as she's able, wipes her eyes with the back of a gauntleted hand, and punches the elevator call button so hard that it shatters. Seconds later, the lift answers her summons, and she limps through the open doors.
Tali and Legion are there, waiting, talking. They look up as she moves towards them.
"Greetings, Shepard-Commander."
"Shepard! Excellent timing. We've got something to show you. You know that Reaper we blew up on Rannoch-"
The door closes behind them. The pistol is warm in her hand.