Hot wax sizzled on Elaine's flesh as she gripped the candle tightly in her palm. She hissed, the urge to drop it strong in her burning skin. But it was the only illumination she had to peer through the gloom. Thick black fog swept all around her. She was barely able to make out her outreached hand. The flame flickered in the wind as she tried to wade through this dense shroud.

Sounds echoed to her through the mist, shapes and shadows fleetingly forming and dissipating before she could make sense of them. A voice sobbed seemingly close beside her right ear. "Stop! Don't hurt him. Please, have mercy on him – he's just a boy!"

The glint of a sword caught her eye. In the shadows on the fog, Elaine saw a boy huddled on the floor, clutched tight to his mother. The silhouette of a woman stood over the pair of them, sword held aloft, ready to strike them down. Elaine blanched, recognising the voice for Lady Isolde of Redcliffe. But no, she thought furiously, she hadn't killed Connor – she'd initially wanted to, but couldn't go through with the bloody deed. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from the image, huddling the burning flame closer to her heart so that it wouldn't be extinguished in the sudden gust of wind.

The scent of disinfectant stung her nose, and blast of cold swept along the floor and climbed up her legs. A scream echoed through the fog; her scream. Elaine whirled around, disorientated and confused. A figure was walking towards her through the mist, his shadow tall, slightly hunched, a thin sword at his side. Heart beginning to hammer wildly, Elaine tried to step away, but her feet were stuck to the ground she could not see.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Cousland," came the lecherous voice of Kei Leng, his hand reaching for her through the mist. "Cerberus thanks you for the contributions you're going to make towards Humanity's future,"

Desperately, Elaine tried to scramble away, almost casting away the flame in her hand. With enough force that she nearly dislocated her ankles, she pulled on her feet and tried to run. But then, another vice sounded in the mist. Just to her left. Stomach flipping, Elaine tried to peer around as the rich honey tones of her best friend gently glided on the breeze to her ears.

"My friends," she heard him say. Frantically, Elaine ran towards his voice, and after a time thought she could see the silhouette of Alistair, stood in his father's armour. He stared her way, his voice low and mournful. "We are gathered here to pay our respects to the Grey Warden that saved us all."

She slammed to a halt. Through the mist she could now see more figures, more shadows. Her friends, her brother, the leaders of the factions she had all pulled together to form her army. They were all gathered around as if for a funeral… and she realised with a sickening sense of dread that they were.

"Elaine Cousland gave her life to stop the Blight." Continued Alistair. "A sacrifice we must never forget."

Hands crawled across Elaine's skin. She desperately tried to bat them away, but every time she turned, only the mist surrounded her. But she could feel them, touching her hair, running along her hips, across her breasts. Panicking, Elaine tried to reach for Alistair, her best friend, the one she could always count on, no matter what. She reached out the flame to him, hoping that if she illuminated him, he would be real, and he could save her. "Alistair!" she called weakly. "I'm here!"

"I… I thought we would be…" Alistair looked away, his voice choked. "Friends, let us hope that she has gone on to a better place and that she knows just how thankful we are for what she has done here."

Could he not see them?! The hands now had knives, needles, pincers, all of them poking at her, tearing her open. Alistair was just WATCHING. Why wouldn't he do something to save her?! "Alistair! Please! I'm here – I'M HERE!"

"You will be missed. More than I can possibly say…"

And then he was gone. Gleefully, the hands relished in her despair and pulled her into their embrace. Elaine fought and struggled, screaming until she was hoarse. She tried to lift the candle that burned her skin so that they wouldn't have it. They tore her open, took pieces from inside her, all the while cackling madly. At first Elaine thought she was weeping, but then realised that it was her own laughter she could hear in her ears.

"But the true abomination," whispered a raspy voice, a voice she recognised from long ago in the darkest pits of the earth, "is not that it occurred… but that it was allowed! The stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal."

And then the ground quaked. It rumbled and roared and broke apart. In the palm of her hand, the candle spluttered as it suddenly had little left to feed it. The wax was nothing more than scalding hot droplets that dribbled off her skin. And then, it was gone, flashing out of existence. Elaine cried out with anguish as she was plunged into darkness. The world continued to tremble all around her, and then, a monstrous roar deafened her with its beautiful but horrible voice. Something thudded and clanked above her. From the darkness, two eyes glowed. One milky white, the other red and blazing. Elaine tried to cower away as the red light flashed bright, blinding her, and then another mechanical roar drowned out the world as Elaine was engulphed in flames.

"ARRRRRRRRGH!" Elaine screamed, jolting awake back in her own bed. For a moment she panicked as the sheets became tangled around her ankles. It took her too long to recognise that she was in her own room on the Normandy, the Starboard Lounge, in her new bed. The dark was too oppressing. Only the rosy lights at the edges of the ceiling were dimly lit so that there wasn't total blackness. But she despised it, reminding her too much of her dream.

Stumbling out from her bed, Elaine threw herself to the window and slammed her hand down on the control panel. There was a loud CLANK that made her startle, but then the shutter began to roll away from the window. The great expanse of space was revealed to her, the soft light of distant stars bathing the room. Almost instantly, Elaine felt her entire body relax, and then begin to shake as the adrenaline started to leave her system.

She hung her head, running her hands through her hair as she attempted to focus her mind. The dreams hadn't ceased since she'd been rescued, and that was two weeks ago now. And despite the fact that they always involved something new to torture her with, they always ended the same – an Archdemon bearing down on her. Did it mean something? Last time she'd dreamed so often of the Old Gods, it almost spelled doom.

Yes, but you were also losing your mind, she chided herself. This is just your sanity slipping away again – another thing Cerberus has stolen!

But what if it wasn't? With a shiver, Elaine looked around the empty room, a room with too many shadows, too many places for lingering voices to hide. What if the Archdemon was back? What if it had been inside her head? What if it had just been waiting for a moment when she was at her weakest and now sought to claim her once again?

Then I will not allow it, she vowed. I will control it. I will fight it. I will force it to let me have my vengeance, to do my duty. And then, I will make sure it won't harm anyone else. But until that time, no one must ever know.

The more time passed, the more it became clear that Elaine's mental stability was continuing to decline. Or at least, to Garrus it was. But everyone else he asked, seemed to think that Elaine was just acting very professionally. She never acted irrationally or with any kind of outburst. She might be a little withdrawn, they said, but otherwise she was perfectly fine. Yet Garrus knew better. He knew that the real Elaine wouldn't be distant, she wasn't cold and efficient, she was full of life and passion. And the more he saw her without that spark, the further away from her he seemed to feel. He was lost and helpless to do anything.

"You need to relax," Shepard tried to tell him at one point.

"Maybe I will, when everyone stops acting like I'm the crazy one just for wanting to help!" Garrus snapped testily. Almost instantly, he regretted his tone, and gave a heavy sigh. "Sorry, Shepard. I'm just… not with it. This isn't exactly how I imagined my reunion with Elaine would go."

To his credit, Shepard didn't reprimand Garrus, instead looking upon him with pity. "I know this has gotta be tough for you. But you can't beat yourself up over this, Garrus. Just give her a little time."

"And what if by then we've drifted so far away there's no going back?" the turian voiced the small insecurity that plagued him at night.

"Nobody said you had to stay away entirely," Shepard said. "Try and reconnect. Take it slow. Rome wasn't built in a day."

Despite not knowing that human metaphor, Garrus ignored it in favour of the idea that suddenly came to him.

Around an hour later, he'd managed to collect Starfang, given it a proper clean and sharpened the blade exactly as the instructions on the extranet told him. EDI then told him where exactly he would find his Warden, down in the cargo bay. The entire elevator ride down, he fidgeted nervously, holding the sword in his hands as if it were made of glass. He hoped this worked, Elaine loved this sword, called it her most precious possession. He hoped that it would remind her of better times, could help bring them together. Some part of him was a little sad to return it, for not only had it saved his life once or twice over the past six months, but it had also been his only tether to the woman he thought he loved. He'd promised to return it to her, but in giving it back, it felt like he was losing that one last part of her he remembered. The point was moot, anyway, he realised. The sword belonged to Elaine, she was incomplete without it. It was the right thing to do. And it would bring her back to him, it just had to!

When Garrus stepped out into the hold, he was immediately greeted by the shuttle pilot, Cortez. A decent man, well spoken and mannered, but with a subtle yet wicked sense of humour. Garrus had easily liked him. The two exchanged a short greeting, before Garrus' attention was drawn further into the hold.

Mats were spread on the floor. Atop them, Vega danced around, fists up to protect his face, dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts. Opposite him, Elaine stalked in a circle like a jungle-cat from earth, hands by her sides, eyes watching and waiting for a moment to strike. The pair charged at each other. Where one would assume Vega would hit the hardest because of his immense size and muscle mass; Elaine was able to hit him just as hard as he hit her. The pair fought with nothing held back. When they let loose a punch or a kick, everyone could feel the weight behind each impact. Sweat dripped down their bodies, Vega's nose was bloody, and Elaine had a bruise starting to bloom on her cheek.

As Garrus watched, he couldn't help the stab of jealousy that twisted and writhed in his gut like an angry flame. Sparring always used to be their thing, him and Elaine, working off stress, something only they did exclusively with each other. How long had this been going on? Why didn't she reach out to him? If she wanted to spar, he would've been happy to help…

The fight ended when Elaine ducked low, and punched Vega in the stomach as hard as she could. The man doubled over, and the woman seized the opportunity to grab hold of his shoulders and knee him in the ribs repeatedly. Yelling in pain, Vega seized hold of her around the waist, jumped up, and slammed the pair of them down. Elaine was left winded and pinned beneath him.

"Do they really need to be that rough?" Garrus asked Cortez, trying desperately to keep the twitching anger out of his voice as he watched the pair on the mats.

Cortez sighed. "I tried. Neither of 'em want a ref," he shrugged. "I think they want to try and beat the living crap out of each other – take it out on something, right?"

Garrus was silent as he watched Vega slowly stagger to his feet, trying to regain his breath, before leaning down to help pull Elaine up. The pair of them were shaking, as if they'd been at this for hours. Barely able to stand, Vega still managed to give a breathy chuckle. "Damn Lola, how'm I supposed to work my pretty face when you fight so dirty?"

Elaine spat blood onto the floor. "If you don't like it, fight better. And what did you call me?"

He grinned. "Lola. Like I call Shepard Loco. You kinda look like a Lola."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Already wanting more, huh? Can't keep you ladies away." Vega laughed. He turned to leave, slapping Elaine's shoulder as he passed. "Eres increíble, mi amiga!"

Garrus didn't say a word until the human had pulled himself into the elevator to head for the showers. He knew Elaine had already spotted him, could feel her eyes on him. When he turned forward again, he found her almost right in front of him. Yet still there was a distance of a few feet between them, one which Garrus was painfully aware of. As if sensing their need for a certain level of privacy, Cortez had excused himself to go check on the Kodiak. Garrus reminded himself to thank the pilot later.

"You okay?" was all Garrus said at first, unsure how to kickstart the conversation.

Elaine nodded. As if she already knew what he was thinking, she said: "Vega and I started these sessions just the other day. I needed a living opponent to hit. Someone human-enough for me to vent on. Someone who didn't know from… from before."

Someone who wouldn't go easy on her, was what was left unsaid. Garrus tried to brush away the feeling of sad rejection, and instead tried to forge ahead with his plan. "Elaine? I know things have been a little… off with us, lately. But I wanted to return this."

He held out the sword to her. The instant her eyes settled on the familiar blade, she grew statue-still. With an ever-so-slight tremble in her hands, she reached out carefully took it into her embrace like a long-long-child. In one grand sweep, she unsheathed the sword from its scabbard. The metal sang as it was held aloft. Was it Garrus' imagination, or did the sword seem to glow a little brighter when now in the hands of its rightful owner? For a fleeting moment, Garrus thought he saw the return of the old Elaine in her face, which glowed with happiness to be whole again. She finally tore her gaze away from the sword, to stare up at him. The turian's heart began to beat a little faster, a smile spreading across his face.

"You remember when you gave me that sword?" he asked, nearly breathless. "I didn't want to take the damn thing. But then you said…"

"Hold on to it, until we are reunited, and I can fight at your side with it once more…" the words echoed from her mouth, an ever so slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. A lock of hair fell in front of her face.

Tentatively, Garrus reached up and gently tucked the stray strand back behind her ear. He allowed his talons to linger on her skin, trailing down the path of her jaw as if he meant to cup her face in his hand. Elaine continued to stare into his eyes, with each moment appearing more and more like herself and –

Her eyes fixed on something behind him. With an exclaimed curse, the Grey Warden jumped back, features distorting from affection to horror and anger. She readied herself in a battle-stance, holding her sword aloft and ready. Garrus spun to see what had frightened her so, only to find Javik stepping out of the elevator. As the Prothean's four sneering eyes glanced over everything in his general vicinity, Garrus finally understood what had Elaine so spooked.

"No, Elaine! It's okay!" he quickly spun back to her, holding up his hands to try and signal for peace. "This is Javik! He's a Prothean, he's with us."

"That is incorrect, Turian," said Javik, his words almost made indecipherable to Garrus with a thick accent, even though it still managed to perfectly convey his scorn. "I am working with the Commander, to avenge my people and destroy the Reapers."

Elaine slowly shortened her stance, but she did not lower her sword, still wary. "I thought the Protheans were extinct. How do we know he is not a Collector?"

Javik's lip curled to show his offence. "I come from a time when my people were more than those indoctrinated monsters. I am a true Prothean, not a mockery of one."

"Javik's been frozen in sleep for the past fifty thousand years," Garrus explained at Elaine's confused look. "Hey, maybe that's something you two have in common? Javik, Elaine here is also a woman out of her time."

The Prothean looked Elaine up and down. Sword finally lowered, she stood straight and proud and said, "I've travelled a thousand years from my own world."

"And not a technologically advanced one," Javik muttered, glancing at her sword. "A primitive amongst primitives."

Elaine's eyes narrowed. Garrus tried to mollify her anger, leaning closer to stage-whisper: "Ignore his superiority complex, the rest of us do."

"I watched the sparring from my quarters," said Javik, pointedly ignoring Garrus' existence as he took a step closer to Elaine. "Your combat style is ruthless, destructive, but clinical; it is competent enough to use against the Reapers' creatures."

"You speak as if I require your approval. Let me state clearly right now, that I need no such thing." Elaine retorted with the same scathing tone. "But by all means, tell me how you disapprove. I'll be sure to consider such words when I am able to find a single fuck to give."

Garrus nearly choked on his laughter. Where had she learned that phrase?

As she went to shove her way past Javik, the Prothean reached out and briefly touched her. The moment his fingers brushed her skin, the pair of them froze to the spot. Javik's eyes flickered back and forth as if he were reading an invisible text. Garrus' visor told him Elaine's heart-rate had just spiked exponentially.

"You are indeed a warrior," Javik sound, his voice sounding suddenly eerie, as if from another world. Garrus was reminded of when he'd seen Liara mind-meld with Shepard to find Ilos. Just like then, he now felt the plates along his spine tingle. It took him a moment to remember Shepard's story of how Javik could read his environment – and people – with a touch. "All your life, you have honed your body for the purpose of war. You have fought, you have killed, you have… died… Yet now you are conflicted. Confusion over your torture, despair that you are losing your mind, and anger, so much anger. And there is something else, deep within, a–"

Suddenly, Javik ripped himself away from Elaine. The woman stumbled with a cry as if pained. Garrus immediately went to steady her, fearful that Javik had somehow hurt her. When he went to reprimand the careless Prothean, he found the alien pulled away from them both, as if revolted even by the sight of the woman before him. Elaine shivered under his gaze.

"What have you done to yourself?!" Javik demanded in a quiet voice. "Something dark and twisted lingers in your blood. A foul corruption, not too dissimilar from the Reapers themselves."

"That's enough, Javik." Garrus snapped defensively, feeling the woman in his arms cringe away from the Prothean's hateful words.

"There is an evil in this woman, Turian. In it, I hear a thousand voices, a force so malevolent it waits to devour her and everything around it. And I know she bonded with this thing willingly. She is a viper in the grass, and will strike when we least expect it."

"I said enough!" shouted Garrus, leaning forward to growl in the Prothean's unflinching face.

"Hey!" called Cortez hotly from the other side of the Cargo Hold. "Everything okay over there?"

Garrus glared Javik down for several long moments, making sure his point was clear, before he called out: "Yeah. We're good, Cortez."

But it was only when he finally turned away from Javik, that he noticed that the woman he'd been defending was gone.

For what felt like the dozenth time that morning, Victus re-read through the reports he'd been sent from his fleets attempting to defend nearly all of Turian-Space. Most of it was concentrated around Palaven, but he refused to think he would abandon those of his people who lived off the homeworld. They had to be protected as well, or at least, given the chance to flee. Reading through the casualty numbers made his heart grow heavy, a sense of hopelessness yawn wide to wonder at what possible chance they could have for victory. But this feeling was only brief. He refused to allow it to consume him. Instead, he used it to fuel his determination. He would save his people. He would forge this alliance and give Palaven a fighting chance. The Turians would not go down without a fight!

The Normandy was approaching the peace-summit, the Salarian and Krogan dignitaries would be on board within the hour. Victus had to shake his head at the thought of the Asari backing out simply because it would problematic. Cowards, he thought. His people had more bad blood with the Krogan than possibly even the Salarians, yet he wasn't turning squeamish over this. It was enough to infuriate him, but decided to leave it be. Deal with the Asari later, he had enough to worry about knowing the Salarians were going to be a pain in his ass over this upcoming negotiation.

He took a datapad along with him to scan through the numbers again, as well as attempt to memorise all the information he'd gathered on the other dignitaries he'd be meeting with today. By all accounts, Urdnot Wrex was what the Krogan's might call a progressive, ditching the heavily valued traditions of his people to prioritise survival for the next generation. But he was no softie, his previous association with Shepard should've been proof enough of that. Victus knew he'd need to get to the point and cut hard and fast with him.

As he got himself settled into the meeting room to await the other dignitaries, the doors opened again behind him. He looked up to see Garrus stumbling in, a little out of breath from having run here. Victus schooled his expression. He'd pinged Garrus to meet him here ten minutes ago. Whilst he didn't approve of tardiness, he knew he shouldn't scold him like he was his father. The young Vakarian needed to be treated with a little more respect than that. He was, after all, third in line after Victus for the seat of Primarch.

"Vakarian," Victus greeted. "Glad you could make it."

Something in his formal tone must've given him away, because Garrus immediately began to trip over his own words in his haste to apologise. "Sir! I'm so sorry, I was busy with–"

"Calibrations, I know," he murmured. "But, you're here now. That's what matters."

"Primarch Victus, sir?" Garrus asked, cautious as if unsure how to phrase his next words correctly. "Why exactly am I here?"

"Palaven needs this alliance, Vakarian. We need the Krogan on our side. To convince them, I'll need all the help I can get. You served with Urdnot Wrex on the SR1, and you're the third highest ranking officer in the Turian Hierarchy. Wrex is sure to feel a little more at ease if he thinks he has another ally in the room."

He slid his datapad to Garrus along the glass table. Sitting down, Garrus began to scroll through the messages. "To think… if our grandfathers could see us now… going to the Krogan for help…"

"I don't care what our grandfathers would think," Victus snapped. "This war is more than any of them could've imagined. Casualty reports in the millions. Two of our dreadnoughts lost in a matter of hours."

"I know, Primarch, I didn't mean anything by it."

Victus stood from the table to gaze out the window onto the endless expanse of stars, talons clasped behind his back. "We have to turn this around. And fast."

"Well, you can trust Shepard, sir. If anybody can get the Krogan to cooperate, it's him. He's an old friend of Urdnot Wrex."

"Let's just hope friendship still counts for something in this war." Victus murmured. "I cannot even begin to count how many lives are counting on this negotiation being a success. Our troops need heavy reinforcements. We need to at least halt the Reaper advance." He took a moment as a stray thought entered his mind, and allowed a small smile to spread on his mandibles, even as a familiar ache twisted in his heart. "Huh. If my Lita were here, she'd have the Reapers in full retreat by sundown. Never met a more remarkable woman than that. Could make a vorcha shrink in his boots with just a look. I tell you, Vakarian, in times like these we need guts like that. Vakarian?"

When he got no answer, he turned, and saw that Garrus was staring off into space. Cocking a brow-plate, Victus cleared his throat loudly to grab the other Turian's attention. It worked, for Garrus nearly jumped out of his seat with fright. "Oh! S-Sorry! Sir! I-I must've…"

"A little distracted, Vakarian?"

"Um, you could say that, sir. I'm so sorry, Primarch, it won't happen again."

"You have me intrigued now," Victus pressed, turning around to fully face him. "What's on your mind?"

The young man's throat blushed brightly with shame at being caught. "It's, um, it's Elaine, sir. Sorry, Miss Cousland."

"The human female Shepard rescued from Cerberus?" Victus clarified.

"Yes sir." Garrus nodded. At just the mere mention of the female, his subharmonics began to take on a life of their own, growing warm and filled with protective assurance. An alien wouldn't be able to pick up on these subtle tells, but Victus could. "I'm just worried about her is all. I'm not sure she's recovering all that well."

"Shepard seems to think she is, otherwise why would she not be cleared for ground-missions?"

"I mean, physically, yeah. Elaine's one of the best fighters I've ever seen! It's just… I want to help her. I don't think she's letting herself recover mentally. And I–I worry, is all."

Victus had to suppress the smirk that threatened to spread his mandibles wide. Vakarian's affection for the woman was as clear as day. And he couldn't stop himself from teasing. "Didn't know you were that into humans, Vakarian."

Immediately, Garrus blushed near bright-blue at his throat. "N-no! I mean, it's not like that, sir!" he stuttered. "I just, I mean, we all look out for each other on the Normandy. Not that there's anything wrong with – you know, liking humans. And Elaine's an amazing woman. I just–"

Victus held up a hand for silence. "Garrus," he smiled softly. "If I might be so bold… It's clear to me that you do care about this woman, deeply. Am I wrong?"

"Yes – I mean, no. Sir, I do… care about her." His eyes drifted away again, and once more his subharmonics told the story that his words did not. "It happened when we went up against the Collectors. Blowing off steam, I thought at first. But, I don't know, it just… it just felt like so much more. Not that it matters now, anyway." He sighed, miserably studying his own hands in his lap. "After everything that's happened… I'm almost sure whatever it was is gone…"

Well I'll be damned… Victus thought in wonder as he stared hard at an oblivious Vakarian. For truly, he must be oblivious, to himself as well as everything around him. Victus could see quite clearly that Vakarian cared for this Elaine-woman, even more than he was letting on, and that he didn't want it to be over between them. The unhappiness evident in him at the thought of losing her was almost as plain as the fringe on his head. So few Turians these days ever found what was clearly happening to Garrus right now. Victus could tell almost immediately, because he had been the exact same. When he'd mated with his beloved Lita, it had been frowned upon by his peers as she was very low in the rankings of the hierarchy at the time. They all chose a bond-mate that would help their social standing, having never found what Adrien did. That love which resonated in his very bones, that made it impossible to think of how life was worth living without her.

When he'd lost Lita, he'd contemplated ending his own life more than once. But he had an infant son to look after. He knew she would've wanted him to carry on for Tarquin's sake. Still, the pain of her loss haunted him almost every day. And he could tell that Garrus had almost been at that same point when he'd thought he'd lost his Elaine. It was clear he was unaware what was happening to him, so Victus thought it appropriate not to spoil the surprise. Let him figure it out on his own. The time would come soon enough when he would know for sure.

"Get out of here, Vakarain," Vitus sighed after a lengthy silence, deciding to take pity on the poor confused youngster.

Garrus looked up sharply, alarmed. "Sir? No! Please, I promise I won't be distracted when we're–"

"Garrus," Victus reasoned, "we both know we need you in top shape for this war. Go get some rest. Relax a little. I'll send you notes on how this peace-summit goes."

As Victus watched him go, he felt his shoulders sag a little. Whilst it was great to see some small light of potential happiness in these dark times, Victus couldn't help but pessimistically wonder if this revelation for Garrus would come too late…

Author's Note: I know this chapter is 2 weeks late! I'm sorry. Unfortunately, real life threw some unexpected wrenches into the mix, and it delayed my schedule without even a moment for breathing room. Apologies, I will try to get back on schedule.

Finally we meet Javik! I know a couple of people have been wondering where he is, and don't worry, he is here, and the main plot is moving forward. Up next is Sur'kesh!

If you liked this chapter, please leave a review. It really helps my creative process and helps to get this story noticed by even more fantastic readers. Thanks guys!