A/N: So how I said I wasn't proud of my last update? Well this one I am proud of. I hope you enjoy it as well! And review? Please?
6. Dark
Aim, shoot, reload. Nothing had made a difference. It was all for nothing. Aim, shoot, reload. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, he could still make a difference without her. Aim, shoot, reload. He couldn't. His team was dead and here he was facing an endless army of mercs. He didn't even know how long he had lasted holed up in here. One day? Two? Aim, shoot, reload. Another wave survived. Now to wait for them to regroup and come again.
Garrus stopped peering out over the bridge, allowing himself a moment to rest. He put his back against the cover, feeling exhausted muscles relax, barely able to maintain themselves without sleep. But he couldn't close his eyes. No, he couldn't face the darkness in his mind, the pressure of his failures. He was a failure to everyone: himself, his father, his team…and to her.
She was the first human to honestly gain his respect. Not the fake respect that was called for when facing your leader or superior officer. No, this was real. He would have followed her to hell and back. Her team trusted her. She deserved that trust and respect. He had thought that he could lead too, that his team could– his team…
No, thought the Turian, forcing himself back up to his position overlooking the bridge. You can't afford to go there. Not now.
When had everything gone wrong? He laughed to himself within his visor. What an obvious answer. Shepard had died, and with her, the last glimmer of hope anyone had. Without that hope, only darkness remained. Which was how he had ended up in Omega, darkest of all. He had thought that if he attacked it at its heart, the darkness would lessen.
He was wrong. The endless number of mercs coming for him was proof of that. Aim, shoot, reload.
Funny how you never realize how important someone is to you until they are gone. Aim, shoot, reload. The gun feels heavy in his hands. He has to work now to keep his talon steady on the trigger, to keep the target in his sights. Aim, shoot, reload. Even things practically instinctual for him were taking a tremendous amount of effort. Turians may be known for stamina in battle, but everyone has their limit. Perhaps this was his. Aim-
And there was the past, staring at him through his scope. He thought he was hallucinating, but when he brought the same merc in to focus, he couldn't deny it. It was no random mercenary hired to kill him. It was Shepard.
Maybe it isn't so dark after all.