Chapter 8:
And then, Virmire happened.
As inadequate a description as that was, it soon became a buzzword aboard the ship. Not a list of the things they'd accomplished down there, blowing up Saren's lab, discovering the terrible truth about Sovereign, Shepard challenging and ultimately talking down a very angry krogan battlemaster, the sacrifice of a certain team member whose name was still too painful to speak aloud. No, Virmire happened. A victory that tasted like a defeat.
The Normandy was now on route to the Citadel, with information for the council that could mean the difference between survival and genocide. Garrus lingered in the cargo hold, trying to keep himself from glaring at the STG team situated at the other end of the room. He tried not to blame them for the melancholic atmosphere on the ship, but damn if it wasn't difficult. Even the indomitable Wrex seemed distraught, facing the wall, silently running his hands over his ancestor's armor.
Shepard had already visited Ashley's station three times that day, she was there now. Just standing over there, eyes closed. Garrus was sure he was the only one close enough to see that she was trembling. How he longed to go over there, offer some kind of comfort. Worried that she would see the truth if he did. Not wanting to worsen the situation with his awkwardness.
Alenko drifted over to where she was standing, his head inclined towards her as he spoke softly. He put his arm around her and Garrus tried so very hard not to feel the sharp stab of jealousy in his gut. She's being comforted, that's the important part. Get a hold of yourself.
Wrex caught his eye as he turned away from the couple, the krogan's expression too knowing. Garrus froze, knowing he'd been caught out, yet again. Was he really that transparent? All indications point to yes, you stupid turian. Apparently, it seemed the only one oblivious to his affections was the very object of them.
It wasn't like Shepard to have that sort of blind spot when it came to the motivations of her team, but he was very glad for it, nonetheless. As though the spirits had finally delivered him this small boon to save him from any embarrassing revelations concerning him and his inappropriate feelings.
Alenko steered Shepard toward the elevator and Garrus risked a peek at her face. The stern mask was in place, but her eyes were blazing. He saw anger and fear and hate in there, roiling around in their dilated depths, and sadness, deep and abiding sadness. Now it was his turn to tremble, truly afraid for her for the first time. It wasn't right or fair or any of those phantom concepts about the galaxy being basically an alright place to live in.
There was no way he was going to let her go sacrificing herself for some greater good. He had a flash of understanding, then, just a tiny taste of where she might be headed in her thinking. High risk, low probability of success missions were just fine and dandy and fairly standard in their line of work, but this feeling that she believed that she deserved no better, was a blatant and terrible lie.
He tasted blood in his mouth as he swore that somehow, someday he would show her the truth, place it in her hands and soul like a gift. It might mean she found comfort in someone else's arms, but he would give anything, sacrifice anything to see that joy in her face again, as it was before time and circumstance had scarred her so deeply. The memory of that little girl soothed his soul, granting him strength to be there for Shepard, however she needed him, asking no more than to be at her side protecting her.
Will resolved, he grimly began to ready his weapons, real and metaphorical.
