Garrus squinted his eyes under the painful brightness, blocking the light with his arms. He lay disoriented for a moment, before realising that he was lying in sand. Waves crashed in the distance, the cool water gently lapping at his feet. Leaning up, he was met with the view of a beach and the horizon in the far distance, marking the break between ocean and clear blue sky. The shoreline seemed to stretch on forever, both ways.

Garrus had no idea where he was and yet there was not a single bit of anxiety in his mind.

He was curious, though. Turians didn't like beaches. There weren't many back on Palaven and water that was deep enough to reach your neck was dangerous for turians. He'd never understood what part of sand and water was so appealing to Shepard, but she'd always wanted to go one day, just the two of them.

Shepard.

He now knew why he was here, at the beach. A figure appeared behind him, casting a shadow over where Garrus was sitting.

Shepard.

He turned around so quickly that he almost got whiplash, the bright sun blinding him once again as he looked up to face her, the woman he loved. They could finally be together, after all they'd been through; they had all of eternity, now.

"Your arrival, a little early," Mordin said, blinking rapidly. He was wearing his usual lab attire, a bright red bucket in his hand. He promptly took a seat in the sand, right next to Garrus, who was still staring at him with a blank expression. "Expecting someone else?"

"You could say that," Garrus mumbled, turning back to the horizon, "Don't tell me. Turians and salarians share the same heaven, but humans don't?"

Mordin didn't laugh but he was smiling widely, "Ah, yes. Shepard. Won't find her here."

"I need to see her, Mordin," Garrus said pleadingly, as if the salarian had the power to bring her into this reality. "I think we've both waited long enough."

Mordin played with the seashells in his bucket, stirring them around with his hand. "Selfish, but understandable. Still disappointed."

Garrus gave a tired chuckle, "So am I, truthfully. Thought I'd be able to keep the peace, protect the future that she gave us."

"Still a possibility. Not too late. Can still go back."

"I can?" Garrus blurted out. He hadn't expected that; the last thing he remembered was being caught in some sort of explosion.

Mordin nodded. He guessed it made a certain sort of sense. Somehow, deep down, Garrus knew this wasn't really heaven and that this wasn't the real Mordin, which meant that his brain, in the other world, must still be intact and at least somewhat functional, even in the worst case scenario.

"Alright," he admitted, "I can still go back, but for what? The galaxy's crumbling to pieces. How am I supposed to stop that? It's not like I can just force people to stop fighting and play nice."

Mordin turned to face Garrus, who was looking down at the sand, "Have you tried?" The turian looked up to be met by the intense gaze of the doctor, a look so powerful that his mandibles fluttered involuntarily. "Not all options exhausted. Courses of action still remain, yet to be taken. Yet to be considered."

Garrus thought for a long moment, gazing at the vast expanse of calm waters. The wind was calm, cool air gently blowing into his face. "I know what has to be done. I'm going to save this damned galaxy whether it likes it or not."

"What Shepard would have done," Mordin said, the smile returning to his expression before it turned serious again, "Be careful. Path you will walk is a dangerous one. Easy to lose one self, as I once did."

Garrus took in one last look at the horizon, preparing to set out on the long journey that was ahead of him. "Thanks for the tip."


The sterile smell. The soft sheets. The beeping of machinery.

He was in a hospital, feeling groggy, as he struggled to open his eyes. The room was typically white, with a soft yellow light emanating from a glass cover in the ceiling.

He heard a faint voice, as if it were from a distance, his ears still unfocused.

"Doctor, he's awake." It was Verran standing at his bedside. "Doctor!"

He could twist his neck now, despite the stiffness, and he turned to see the asari nurse coming through the door, with several other personnel in tow, assumedly doctors from the long white coats they were wearing. They crowded around Garrus' bed.

"How are you feeling, sir?" one of them, another asari, asked while the others started scanning him with their omnitools.

His ears were clearing up now.

"Fine," he replied truthfully; other than feeling worn out, he actually felt alright.

"Good to hear," the doctor replied, "I'm Doctor Mavani, your head physician. You were caught in the blast radius of a terrorist bombing. You're very lucky to be alive, sir. Relatively unscathed, too. You were only out for a little over two hours after they'd found you."

Terrorist bombing. That woke him right up, his senses sharpening considerably.

"They found you under a pile of rubble, sir," Verran added with a strained chuckle, "Thank the Spirits you were in the bathroom."

Garrus' head felt almost dizzy with the amount of questions he had, but he prioritised the one he needed to have answered the most, "What happened to Overlord Wrex and Admiral Zorah?"

"They're in the intensive care unit, both still comatose. Admiral Zorah was hit in one of the initial volley of slugs and was carried offsite before the explosion. The shooter escaped the station, but he was seen to be wearing Kavili armour." The Kavili was one of the batarian factions fighting it out on Khar'shan, the one pining for aggressive expansion into neighbouring systems. It was distinctively bright red, some sort of fear tactic, Garrus had always assumed; it was the color of their blood, after all. "The Overlord, on the other hand, was in the midst of the blast, but his armour had saved him."

It wasn't particularly good news. In fact, under normal circumstances, it would have been terrible news, but Garrus couldn't be picky right now. He let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Who else survived?"

Verran fell silent for a moment, his mandibles fluttering nervously. "Sir," he paused again. "There were no other survivors."

"What?" Garrus blurted out the only thing that came to his mind, his eyes wide open.

"There were no other survivors, sir," Veran repeated, this time a lot more firmly.

He turned back to the doctors, who averted his gaze as they continued to scan him from head to toe. "Well then give me the names of the acting Councillors. Who's in charge right now? Don't tell me there's no one left in the lines of succession. They couldn't have been all killed."

The fundraiser event had been one of unprecedented importance, one which could have transformed the geopolitical climate and recovery efforts for decades to come, perhaps even centuries. Extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary actions; every member of the line of succession for every race had been present at the party. It was a definite security threat, but at the heart of the Citadel and with so many C-Sec officers on guard duty, it had been deemed a necessary risk. The rewards to be reaped, whether personal or actually for the people, had been too high.

"They were. Temporary representatives are being chased down as we speak, but I suspect that it'll take some time. No one really wants to take over at a time like this if they aren't obliged to, even if it does mean becoming one of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy."

So he was the only acting Councillor? Garrus couldn't believe it. "Who was it? How did they do it?"

"They've been able to identify the shooter as a member of Karva, from Khar'shan, by the distinct helmet they were wearing." Garrus had heard of Karva, the diehard fanatics of the Kavili party, but the last time he checked they weren't much of a threat. More of a Terra Firma than a Cerberus. They wore helmets with horns jutting out from the sides; more fear tactics, he assumed. "As for the bombing, security recordings were captured via the cameras setup within the bunker interior," Verran replied grimly, "You might not believe it, sir, but it was Salini. The onsite forensics team think she had a bomb strapped on under her dress. C-Sec missed it –"

"Because we skipped past the scanners," Garrus finished as it struck him, his memory jogging back to the call with Kasumi, just before the explosion. I think she's indoctrinated.

It was almost too much to handle and his mind drifted back to the beach. He'd returned to this world, determined to make a change, determined to lead the people toward a better future, but this? It wasn't something Garrus was prepared to handle, not in the slightest.

It's not like I can just force people to stop fighting.

And then, an idea came to mind.

"Verran, go and get me my suit," he ordered as he dragged himself out of the bed, ignoring the doctors' protests. It was a little painful, but it was nothing compared to anything that he'd experienced during the war.

"Sir, you've just awoken from a coma," Mavani interjected, all heads turning to face her, "I'm afraid I must advise you to remain here at the hospital. There are still several tests we have to run, and our initial scans show you're only barely healthy at best."

Mavani held her authoritative stance, although Garrus could tell how nervous the doctor was, standing up against a Citadel Councillor. Her boldness was commendable, he admitted silently.

"The red and gold one, sir?" Verran asked, turning back to his boss.

Garrus nodded, stretching slowly, testing the limitations of his body in its current state, feeling just how sore the sore spots got, "And organise a press conference. There's something I want the people to hear."

Verran left immediately after a curt nod.

The doctor remained silently in place, unsure how to react to her professional recommendation being essentially ignored. A top level physician on the Citadel with countless citations from medical boards all over the galaxy and a degree from Thessia's most prestigious university, she was entirely unused to this lack of care for her advice.

"Your recommendation has been noted, doctor," Garrus said, "But I have a galaxy to run."


Reporters swarmed the room as they fought over whatever space they could get, their camera drones all taking photos and vid recordings of a singular point in the room, of Garrus, who was standing above them all at the podium stand. There were no flashes, however; they were relics of the past.

Garrus did his best to stand straight, to exude power, despite his injuries. "As I am sure you are all aware by now, there was an attack made on the Citadel yesterday afternoon, at the Galactic Relief Efforts Fundraiser," he started, reading the speech off of the holodisplay floating in front of him. "The lives of countless men and women, servants of the public, were lost. May their spirits rest easy in the afterlife." He paused for effect. "This includes the entire line of succession of Councillorship for every single Citadel race, excluding myself."

The entire room fell silent as the press members, even the veteran reporters, seemed to lose their breath. Good. The public needed to know that they were in real danger.

"The instigators of this attack were members of Karva, a pro-batarian fundamentalist group from Khar'shan, but not much else is known about them," Garrus lied. The public couldn't know the truth about Salini, and not even the people on his side could know about her possible indoctrination. Not yet, anyways. "However, we have our best people working on the case. We will find those responsible, and we will make them pay for what they have done." He paused again, letting the gravity of his words sink in.

He'd given them the result, now he had to get them to acknowledge the root cause of the problem.

"However, who are we truly to blame?" he asked rhetorically to the public, to the millions, perhaps billions of people who were no doubt tuning in to the live broadcast. The politicians who sat around and waited for the galaxy's problems to solve themselves, who fought for their own gain and not for their people's. "We had become complacent, passive. We'd waited, when we should have acted. And that has cost us a great many number of lives, both on this day and those which preceded it. The current government has failed to bring peace and prosperity to its people." Garrus clenched his fist into a ball so that it was visible to the cameras, showing off his anger to the public. They had to empathise with him, they had to understand where he was coming from, in order to accept what he was about to tell them.

"No longer will the terrorists have free reign. No longer will the people of the Citadel be forced to live in fear. No longer will we stand by, waiting for the enemy to strike. They already have. Today marks a day of change, a call for action."

He'd presented the problem, now it was time to present the solution. The reporters braced; for what, they didn't really know.

"I hereby call for a Vote of Executive Action," Garrus announced. Some of the press members wore confused expressions, while others knew exactly what was happening.

"I, Garrus Vakarian, will bear the title of High Councillor of the Citadel and Supreme Commander of her armed forces. I will be the highest level of command with the ability to authorize executive orders myself, individually."

This caused an audible stir in the crowd, despite the typically strict 'no talking' protocol.

The Vote required the support of all of the Councillors, so by tradition, those who were against it were asked to speak up; if any of the Councillors disagreed, the Vote was not passed. "Those not in favour, let yourselves be heard," Garrus announced as part of the official proceedings, although the result was already clear. He was the only active Councillor.

He waited for a few token moments and let the silence speak for itself, before continuing, "The Vote has been passed. As my first action as the High Councillor, I hereby give an executive order authorizing the deployment of the Citadel Peacekeeping Fleet into batarian space, chiefly concentrated on Khar'shan. Furthermore, there will be a galaxy wide manhunt for the terrorist shooter responsible for the initial on site attack. Thank you and may the Spirits guide us in these turbulent times."

As soon as he had finished his speech the reporters were already throwing a barrage of questions at him, all of which he dodged by going off stage, flanked by his now even larger security detail. The doors closed behind him, drowning out the sea of voices. Away from the public eye, Garrus allowed himself to limp.

Verran joined him at his side as they walked down the halls of the Citadel tower, looking more than a little uncertain.

"I'm not going to let innocent civilians pay the price for political incompetency," Garrus said firmly, "We have to take control, Verran. We have to pave the way forward to the future." That was what he had told himself, right before the speech, but there was no going back now. The only way was forward, and there was no room for doubt. All he had to rely on was his own conviction.

Verran remained silent for a moment as they made their way toward his office. There was another matter he needed to take care of. Vega was still out there, somewhere, and he needed to extract him.

"I'm with you, sir, until the very end," Verran said shortly with an intense look in his eyes as they arrived at Garrus' office door, where his security detail remained at guard.

"Good," Garrus replied simply, "I need you to organise a meeting with Admiral Vaxus as soon as possible. Bring him here if you can." Vaxus was the Admiral currently responsible for the Peacekeeping Fleet.

"Of course. He'll be at your door within the hour." Verran strode off quickly, looking determined.

Garrus opened the door; inside, Gaila was standing at attention, presumably waiting for him to arrive. "Good evening, High Councillor," she said gracefully, eyes glued to the walls opposite.

"At ease, Gaila. This isn't the military, you know," Garrus replied, admittedly a little amused, as he walked past her to the door that connected the reception to his officer proper. She remained standing until the doors closed behind him.