Written by MosaicCreme with dialogue and action expressions for Shepard provided by MizDirected (some words edited to American English spellings for continuity). Comments are always appreciated and make our day!

Words taken from MizDirected's Turian Dictionary

Torin - Torini plural. Male turian of the age of majority (15)

Precor - Damned. Cursed.

Buratrum - The realm of the spirits of dishonourable association. Equivalent of hell.

Mabul - The turian equivalent of the expletive 'fuck'. Derived from Irrumabul - the word for non-consensual sex specifically between a superior and a subordinate.

Amarceru - the bitter, mud-like tea popular with turians. Popular with quarians but much more dilute.

Garrus stood outside his bedroom door, listening to Butler as the human rehashed his glorious 'moves' against Cerberus. "Go home, Butler. I'm sure Nalah is waiting to thank you for being her hero." He fluttered his mandibles, laughter rumbling through his chest.

Butler grinned lasciviously and waggled his eyebrows. "You bet your turian ass she is. Alright, boss, I'll see you tomorrow. Hey, if Pizza Angel stops by, tell her I love her!"

Chuffing, Garrus shook his head and waved Butler off. Once Butler disappeared from sight, down the stairs, Garrus looked around, assuring himself the door to the other room at the end of the hall remained closed. Mandibles flaring he turned back to his own door, his hand hesitating over the controls.

Please be in here. Spirits, please.

He palmed the doors controls, and glanced around the room. Disappointment tugged his mandibles, making them droop when he found the room empty. Taking a deep breath, he paused halfway through the threshold.

Oh, but she was here.

Garrus hurried into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Pulling in slow, deep breaths he scented the air, savoring the faint scent Shepard left behind. He moved to the vent, his eyes landing on the datapad and the old familiar scarf tucked underneath. Carefully, he moved the datapad off of the scarf, afraid he might damage the scarf somehow.

Garrus lifted the scarf with both hands, cradling it as he would an infant. Raising the scarf to his face, he breathed in deep. Turning his head away, he forced the air from his nostrils, clearing the flood of different scents assaulting his nose.

Aria.

A growl rolled through his chest. What had Aria been doing with Shepard's scarf?

Spirits, if she wore this I'll rip her throat out … still, I smell Shepard on here, too. Recently. Does she know Aria has Sookie?

Garrus glanced over the datapad just in case Shepard left him a message as well. A grin spread across his face when he saw that she had. Carrying the scarf and datapad with him, he moved to his bed, settling down on the edge to read. What he read ripped his still beating heart from his chest and lit it on fire, leaving it right in front of his eyes for him to watch burn. A keen tore through his throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, cutting it off before it brought Sidonis to his door.

Pull it together, Garrus. She needs you, she's reaching out. You can't call her sounding like this.

Moving his hand from his mouth, he stroked it over his crest instead. He cleared his throat and turned his comm to her frequency. He hesitated, his talon over the button ready to establish the connection, allowing him to speak to her. Allowing him to hear her voice.

Will she actually talk?

Taking a steadying breath, he activated the frequency. "Shepard?"

Her soft breathing came over the comm. "Shepard died, Archangel. She died over a year ago."

Garrus' breath caught in his throat, the sound of her voice after so much time spent thinking he'd never hear it again did more to squeeze his throat closed than even the horror of her words. "Spirits," he whispered. "Yes, you did. But you're not dead now, Shepard. And neither am I."

"Garrus is supposed to be training to become a Spectre." The rumble of movement created static over the connection. "That was our deal. After he let Saleon go … I knew … she knew he was ready."

He winced, reminded of yet another way he'd let her down. "Yes, well, Garrus … hmmm … I tried, Shepard." Pausing, he ran his talons over her scarf. "The Council … buratrum, just all of it. How could I stick around and listen to them act like everything's okay? Like the reapers aren't real?" He leaned back against his pillow, throwing a leg up on the bed and resting her scarf on his chest. "Even after all of that, everything you did to take down Sovereign, they're still calling it a geth attack."

"If there's a constant to the universe, it's the politicians' ability to stick their heads up their asses. They must take yoga or something to stay that spineless." She held the silence for a moment, weighing her words, he thought. "So you gave up? You could have done so much as a Spectre. On Omega …." She let a soft sigh drift out. "Why here?"

The weight of her disappointment crushed him. He thought it over for a second, leaving the channel open so she could hear his breathing, wanting her to know he was still there. Clearing his throat, he hummed. "I couldn't get anyone to listen, I'm just one torin, Shepard. You … you were gone, and no one seemed to care more reapers were coming our way." He fell silent again, the hum picking back up where his words failed him. "I thought I could do some good here. And maybe I am. My team … they've all got reasons to fight, people they loved Omega took from them. I'm helping them as much as I am Omega … . At least that's what I keep telling myself." He pulled the scarf closer to his face, sniffing gently to catch only the freshest scent. "But I'm glad I did, because I wouldn't have been here to find you."

"I'm glad you're here too, and for them." A faint rustling sound filled the comm air. "You kept me … ." Shepard cleared her throat, her voice returning strangled, barely more than a whisper. "Dead is dead. That's the rule, right? The immutable law of the universe."

He fluttered his mandibles, testing his next words out in his head before speaking. "Apparently not." He hoped the refusal of her finality wouldn't upset her. "I don't know how Cerberus did it, Shepard, and to be honest … hmm … what's the human saying? I'm not going to examine a hoofed quadruped's molars too closely." Garrus tilted his head to the side, his brow plates pulling down. Shaking his head lightly, he hummed again. "Wait, no, that's not right. You know what I mean."

He sat forward, pushing himself further up on his pillows. "The point is, Shepard. You're real. You're alive, flesh and blood. Call it a miracle, or just a miracle of science if you want but there's no way I'm not sticking around to keep you that way."

Shepard chuckled, the sound loosening some of the tension the last few days built up in Garrus' chest. The worry easing a little, he let himself sink into the pillows and squeezed his eyes shut.

If she can still laugh, even a little, then there's hope.

"You're not going to look a gift horse in the mouth?" She sighed softly. "The whole reason that saying was coined is because sometimes gifts come broken. If I am alive … if this isn't some sort of punishment for the lives I've taken or destroyed ... ." Shepard fell silent, a faint clicking followed by a soft rustle the only sound to be heard. "I don't remember much. The pictures help a little. I remembered Ash … the stupid party when I was made a Spectre."

"Hmm … you may not remember, but I happen to be precor good at fixing broken things." He flicked his mandibles, hoping his humor translated through voice alone. "You're a person though, Shepard, you're not broken. You're wounded … and wounds can be healed. Dr. Solus said there's more he can do for you, but you're not letting him." He chuffed, fighting back the urge to insist she listen to the doctor.

"I'd like to think the term was coined because someone out there's smart enough to know to be grateful for a gift, even if it's not in the best condition." He choked back another keen trying to work its way up through his throat, thinking about Shepard's condition. Thinking about seeing her laying in the hospital bed, terrible, glowing red cuts and half-healed scars covering every inch of her body he could see. "I don't even have the words to tell you what it meant to me, learning you were alive." Pain and longing flooded him; choking him despite his best intentions. His voice dropped with the strain, barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't you stay tonight?"

Spirits, I wish you were here. Please, Shepard, please come back. I need you here with me.

"It …" She seemed to stumble with her words. "It's all …." The comm fell silent, her unsteady breathing the only indication she remained. "Until I saw you in that alley, I had it all figured out. I'd died and appeared here. I figured with as dark and ugly as this place was, cleaning it up would eventually buy my way to somewhere better. You've tossed all that into the air. I don't know what's real." A guttural sort of half snort rumbled through the comm. "Why me? Why bring me back? It just doesn't make any sense."

What can I possibly say to that? Can't it just be enough they did bring you back? Why not you, Shepard?! There's no one, not a single person to have ever lived more deserving of a second chance than you. Whatever their reasons, precor, you earned this.

"I don't know, Shepard. But we'll find out, alright? We'll figure out what the mabul Cerberus wants with you … and then we'll kick their asses." He fell quiet for a minute, letting his words sink in for the both of them. "I know you're having trouble believing you're real. Buratrum, I think I would too if I were in your place. But try to at least believe I'm real. And I'm here for you. Anything you need."

Garrus hummed, wishing more than anything that he could see her. "Spirits, it's so good to hear your voice again." He picked up the scarf, running it through his fingers and chuckled. "You were wearing this horrible scarf when we went to the C-Sec range after we left that party. Said it was lucky."

"You made fun of me." She chuckled, barely loud enough to be heard on his end. "I want to believe you're real. You were … ." She swallowed audibly before continuing, "... always the most real …." Shepard scoffed. "Color in a world long gray." Movement from her end filled the pause. "I found The Golden Compass. We never finished it." Another soft chuckle filtered through. "You asked so many damned questions. We were lucky to get half a chapter read."

"Hmmm. So read to me now. I'll shut up and just listen, it's possible, I swear." He smiled up at the ceiling, already wanting to ask her a million more questions; none of them about the book. If reading helped her, if it grounded her though, then he'd stay quiet and cherish every last word.

"I'll believe that when I get more than three lines without being interrupted." She paused briefly. "Droney. Light, please."

"Droney? Wait, nevermind, I'm shutting up." He chuffed again.

"It's a fine name, now shush." The old familiar sound of Shepard opening her book, the creak of old binding and rustle of paper filtered across the open channel. "So, Lyra and Pan had shown up at the facility in the north after being separated from the Gyptians and Iorek Byrnison." She cleared her throat a little dramatically. "My voice is pretty craggy, but … Chapter Sixteen, The Silver Guillotine."

As quietly as he could, he started slipping off the plates of his armor. Her voice soothing his tired soul the way nothing else had been able to since she died; not fighting, not praying, not even brandy.

She began reading. "Lyra ducked her head at once under the shelter of her wolverine hood, and shuffled in through the double doors with the other children. Time enough later to worry about what she'd say when they came face to face: she had another problem to deal with first, and that was how to hide her furs where she could get at them without asking permission."

He tossed his gloves to the table next to him and settled back into bed, pulling the covers over him. Tucking her scarf in around his cowl, he settled the piece of his old bedsheet—now heavily frayed from his frequent need to trace the bloody handprint—on his pillow, gently placing his palm down over it, trying to imagine the feel of her soft skin beneath his rough callouses, fragile bones bending to wrap her fingers around his.

"But luckily, there was such disorder inside, with the adults trying to hurry the children through so as to clear the way for the passengers from the zeppelin, that no one was watching very carefully. Lyra slipped out of the anorak, the leggings, and the boots and bundled them up as small as she could before shoving through the crowded corridors to her dormitory." She sounded very much like her old self, her breathing and words falling into a steady, familiar rhythm.

Garrus woke to the gentle sounds of Shepard's easy breathing. Staying in bed just to listen to her a little longer, he squeezed his eyes closed, letting the rise and fall of his own chest match the sounds coming from his comm. He felt terrible about falling asleep on her while she read, but he couldn't help but to smile knowing she'd left the comm open all night despite his snoring.

She sounds so peaceful. Must still be sleeping.

The gravity of his warm bed pulled at him, the soft breathing of the woman he loved holding him in place. With his eyes closed, he could imagine she was right there next to him. He didn't want to face the cold realities waiting for him outside of his bedroom door. Garrus just wanted to stay locked in there, snuggled in bed with Shepard's scarf around his neck, listening to her exist. But he knew if he didn't get up soon, it'd only be a matter of time before one of his team knocked on his door, and if it happened to be Weaver, she wouldn't hesitate to hack through the locks if he didn't answer.

Suppressing a growl of complaint, he muted his mic so he wouldn't disturb Shepard and sat up. Halfway through getting dressed, he heard her voice muttering something he couldn't quite make out. Pausing, his gloves in hand, he cocked his head to the side and listened.

After a moment of silence, her voice filtered through the comm clear enough for him to hear. "... that rumble mean?"

Garrus' brow plates dipped, his mandibles flaring as he continued to listen, trying to make sense of what she said.

"Liar." Shepard chuckled, the sound warm but distant. "... blushing under those plates … ."

Garrus chuffed, heat creeping through his chest and up his throat as he realized she was talking about him. Dreaming about him. A slow grin lifted his mandibles as he slid his gloves on, moving on to his armor. Tucking the mementos he carried with him down inside his shirt, he situated the scarf so it laid flat enough against his cowl to hide under his armor without bunching and pressing into him uncomfortably. He secured his armor and left the room, a grin still plastered to his face.

Erash met Garrus at the top of the steps, his eyes widening. "Archangel, I was just coming to wake you up. Ripper said you wouldn't get up until one of us made you … ."

Garrus fluttered his mandibles and raised his brow plates. He opened his mouth, ready to apologize for the team's hazing—they loved their ritual—when Shepard began to hum in his ear. Broken, and muffled the tune just barely audible enough for him to make out. She'd called it Scarborough Fair, and said her mother used to sing it all the time when Shepard was a kid. Garrus didn't know how many times he'd heard her hum that song absently while she worked on filling out reports or cleaning her weapons. Hearing it now filled his chest with warmth, his heart swelling with hope.

"Ah. Of course." Erash turned and started back down the stairs, muttering to himself. "Note to self: the turian in charge does not need someone to wake him up, and don't trust the krogan."

Garrus chuckled and followed Erash down the stairs, still listening to the sweet sound of Shepard's sleeping voice. "How are you settling in?"

Looking back over his shoulder, Erash blinked and shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. It's an adjustment. I'm just glad to be away from Dr. Solus and his scans."

Garrus hummed and nodded his head, patting Erash on the shoulder as he moved past him at the foot of the stairs. "I think you'll do fine." He turned, walking backwards a few steps and lifted his shoulders, arms splayed out at his sides. "And if not, I guess I know where to take you. I'm sure Dr. Solus will be happy for the company."

Monteague approached Erash from behind, stopping to rest his arm on the salarian's shoulder and shook his head. "After all this time, he still thinks he's funny. Have you eaten?"

Garrus turned back around, making his way to the kitchen. "What are you talking about? I'm hilarious." He glanced over his shoulders, mandibles fluttering with his grin.

Pouring himself a cup of amarceru, Garrus carried it to the table and settled in to read the morning news from his omni-tool. His smile faded, dipping low into a frown when he saw reports of two more human colonies being attacked in the last couple of months, the colonials all missing, gone without a trace. Meals were left behind, half eaten, cars left running … just like everyone got up and walked away. Garrus rumbled and took a sip of his amarceru.

Melenis settled into the chair across from him, a bowl of fruit sitting in front of her along with a cup of steaming tea. "Bad news?"

"Hmmm." Garrus took another sip and closed his omni-tool, looking up at Melenis. "More human colonies have gone missing. Same as before, everyone just gone. No sign of where they went or why. All here in the Terminus Systems, outside of Alliance and Council jurisdiction."

Melenis lifted her cup to her mouth, blowing across the surface before taking a sip. "Pirates? Slavers?"

Garrus shook his head. "No, I don't think so. These colonies weren't looted. Not much sign of struggle, either."

Melenis watched him over the rim of her cup. "So what are you thinking? It's a little beyond the scope of Omega, Garrus, but it clearly has you worried. Do you think the reapers are involved?"

"I doubt it. Sovereign and his puppet always left things looking like a horror show, not a crime mystery." Garrus shook his head again, trying to stave off the thoughts of humans on spikes being turned to husks. "Wrong M.O. Unless destroying Sovereign changed something … forced their hands and made them consider other alternatives."

"What does Commander Shepard think?" Melenis' voice took on a cold edge, that didn't go unnoticed, even if her features remained smooth.

Garrus hesitated, letting the air around him tell him a little more about Melenis' sudden shift in tone. The bitter tang of jealousy mixed with hurt tainted the air. He let out a weary sigh. "I'm not sure she knows. She uh, she's not really in the best condition right now." Picking up his mug, he took a heavy swallow to buy him a few seconds. "Melenis, listen … ."

Melenis sat her cup down and leaned forward, cutting Garrus off. "Don't. Really, I get it. I'm … I'm glad she's alive, Garrus. I know how important she is to you. That's all that matters. Help her get better, that's all you need to worry about. I've got your six in the meantime."

Garrus flared his mandibles, not really sure what to say so he just nodded instead. She stood up and carried her dishes to the sink, rinsing them before leaving the kitchen. Garrus watched her go, noting the stiffness of her spine, and the square set of her shoulders. As much as Melenis liked to disappear into the background, the asari had a way of pulling every eye in the room to her when her mood soured.

A few moments passed before others filled the void she left, joining Garrus at the table to chat about the fight with Cerberus the day before and their newest squad member. He let the noise surround him, not really taking any of it in as he stared at the empty doorway.

Spirits I hope she can deal with having Shepard around. I hope they all can, because I'll be precor if I have to choose between them and her.

Shepard's voice breaking through his comm tore his attention away from the door. "... think you'd like Garrus … a lot alike, Papa." Her tone shifted, taking on the familiar hint of her teasing. "Stubborn."

Garrus chuckled, drawing the eye of Erash and Weaver. He flared his mandibles and covered it with a cough. He could hear her tossing and turning, he thought she must be waking up.

Unmuting his mic, he pushed his chair away from the table. Garrus moved to the sink, settling his mug down in the basin, trying to give himself some space from prying eyes and ears. "Good morning. Hey, uh, sorry I fell asleep on you last night."

"Oh!" The simple word, gasped more than spoken, lead into a long silence broken only by her yawn. "That was real?"

Garrus fluttered his mandibles, glancing over his shoulder at his squad sitting around the table eating their breakfast. Slipping out of the kitchen, he stopped to lean over the back of the empty couch. "I sure hope so. Listening to you read again was the highlight of my year. How'd you sleep?"

The silence stretched on, uncertainty filling her voice when she spoke again, "Fine. The monster didn't come."

"Monster?! Shepard, what monster? Is someone bothering you down there?" Garrus pushed himself upright, talons digging into the back of the couch.

"When I died, I saw a huge reaper, wreathed in flame and ... . It swallowed me. It'll swallow everything." Shepard trailed off, the catch of her breath telling Garrus she wasn't done talking but needed a moment to collect her thoughts. "Too many puzzles … no boxes with pretty pictures to help put them together. I don't know what's real."

Her voice trembled. "It swallowed me, it lives inside my dreams … kills me over and over every night." A faint thwacking echoed over the comm before she continued, her voice softening. "I think I loved him. That's why you're here. That's why all this is getting mixed up."

His heart stalled, skipping a beat before stuttering back to life, pounding against his ribs. "Shepard ... there wasn't … I—You think … ." He stopped, clearing his throat to steady his racing thoughts and quell the jolts of lightning coursing through his veins.

Did … did she just say she loved me?

"There wasn't a reaper there, at least not one anyone else saw. Maybe the trauma triggered a vision from the prothean beacon?" He let his words linger in the air, afraid to address the rest of what she said; afraid he might be wrong about what she meant. Before he could snap his jaws down on the words, they wriggled their way free of his mouth anyway. "You loved … Garrus?"

"He was color in a world that went gray when Jon …." She cut herself off. "Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. All those silly dreams about what might happen … about being Spectres and … they don't matter now. I died." A strangled sort of sob rolled through the mic. "Just a silly girl with a crush on … should have known better. Still just a silly girl trying to hang on to the few beautiful things."

Hesitation stilled her breath, wariness weighing down her voice when she continued, "You're on the radio. You're real?" Shepard paused again. "I don't … I don't understand." She moaned softly, her voice teetering on the edge of a whimper.

His heart lurched in his chest, he was about to lose her, he could feel it. "Don't hang up, Shepard. Spirits, please don't hang up." Garrus let the words rush from his mouth. Glancing up, he saw Butler enter the base, a stupid grin on his face. Garrus lowered his voice and moved to the stairs. "I am real, Shepard, and so are you." He hesitated, wondering if telling her that he loved her would help her or hurt her. The confusion tearing him in two different directions, like sharp talons digging into his throat, strangling him.

He reached the top of the stairs, and took a cleansing breath. He knew he'd lose her if he didn't say something, and if she cut the connection, Spirits only know when she'd talk to him again. Swallowing down the fear, he took a leap of faith—something he'd never dreamed of doing before Shepard came into his life. "Shepard, I love you."

A strangled gasp drew his attention to his left. Melenis stood in the doorway of the second bedroom on the top floor, eyes wide and mouth agape. She looked—and Garrus felt—as if he'd just slapped her in the face. Violet splotches spread over her cheeks, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Garrus winced as she retreated into the room and closed the door. The utter silence on the other end of the comm stretched on, each second filling Garrus with a deeper dread.

"Garrus?" A slow breath blew across Shepard's mic, whistling in Garrus' aural canal.

Locking down the keen rising through his chest, a soft whine escaped his throat. "Yes, Shepard. It's me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He made his way to his room, sitting down heavily on his bed behind locked doors.

"I need to feed Coco and Splash, but …." She gulped. "And if this is all real … I need to find Cerberus. I need answers." She halted, sounding more firm when she continued, "Miranda Lawson."

Garrus flicked his mandibles, chuffing lightly. "You know … a lesser man, under different circumstances would be devastated after saying something like that, only to have you worry about your goats … so I guess it's a good thing it's me we're talking about." He chuckled, trying to ease his own pounding heart and trembling hands. "Go, take care of Coco and Splash. Maybe you'll let me meet them one of these days." Standing back up, he ran a hand over his crest. His voice losing the playful edge he said, "But Shepard, let me handle Cerberus. I'll get you your answers. You're in no condition to be out there taking them on alone right now."

Shepard scoffed, following it with a light cackle. "Like that ever stopped me. Remember that geth destroyer on … oh hell, whatever that backwater planet was … slammed me so hard I flew ten meters. Still finished the mission." She sighed. "Later … call me and we'll meet to talk. But … no funny business. I need … just let me figure this all out at my own speed, okay? No tranqing me and dragging me back to Mordin, or whatever."

Garrus shook his head, resignation filling his voice. He knew there's no point in arguing with her. It just meant he'd have to beat her to Cerberus. "Yeah … I remember. No tranquilizers, got it. And ah … no funny business of any other sort."

"All right. Even though the specificness of the no tranquilizers is less than encouraging." A soft, almost sobbing chuckle broke her moment of silence. "I feel like I need to draft a list." When her laughter dissipated, the humor in her voice went with it. "So … let me know when you've got some time and privacy. I'll meet you halfway somewhere."

Garrus chuckled. "A list of demands, huh? Hmmm … I guess I can work with that. Anything you need, Shepard. I'll call you tonight when things settle down."

"Okay." A slow, shuddering breath rocked the mic. "And yes … yes, I loved Garrus. He was always my air when I thought I couldn't catch my breath … when the whole thing felt like it was suffocating me." After hesitating for another second, she closed the channel.

It took him the better part of the day, and thousands of credits in bribes, but Garrus finally found a solid lead on Cerberus. Miranda Lawson and her goons were holed up in the back of a warehouse, renting space from Symtech, the shipping and receiving company that owned the place. He couldn't go in guns ablazing as much as he wanted to; there were too many civilians working inside. Besides, if Cerberus knew heard him coming it would just give Lawson a chance to slip away again or get rid of any intel they had on Shepard, and that's what he really wanted after all.

So, he set up a stakeout a few buildings down and waited for the warehouse to empty out for the night. He wasn't foolish enough to think Cerberus would leave the warehouse with the workers, but if he got lucky—and he had Shepard's lucky scarf—they'd grow complacent enough as the night wore on to let their guard down.

He had to pick his team carefully. Infiltration was always Shepard's thing. He'd much rather stay back, someplace up high preferably, with his sniper rifle. Sure, his military training covered infiltration, and he'd put those skills to use a time or two with C-Sec, but it wasn't where he felt comfortable. Butler and Ripper definitely weren't up to the task, but he could station them outside somewhere. If things went sideways, he'd want his strong arms to be able to reach his team. He hadn't tested Erash in the field yet, and the mission meant too much to Garrus to take the risk. Garrus didn't want to take in too many either, the more people he had moving around in there the more likely someone would be spotted.

Hmmm … Sidonis, Krul, Monteague … maybe Melenis. No. This is still too raw for her. She's the only biotic I have, though. She'll have to go. Melenis is good, she can keep things separate.

When the time came, Garrus led his infiltration team in through the loading entrance around back of the warehouse. The only light came from the rooms at his three o'clock, the rest of the building loomed with shadowy silhouettes of machinery and crates his eyes barely made out. Stopping to disable the security feed control box on the back wall, Garrus sent Monteague and Melenis to flank while he crept along the wall with Krul and Sidonis at his six.

Laughter reached his aural canals, distorted through the metal walls, alerting him to the presence of guards stationed nearby before he could see them. Garrus reached the end of the wall and peered around the open doorway, doing his best to stay to the shadows. Two Cerberus commandos stood in the hall a few feet away to his nine o'clock, their backs turned to the door. Waving Krul and Monteague up, he signaled them to take the two guards down quietly.

Krul crept forward, staying low to avoid the windows lining the hall, opening his omni-tool as he went. Monteague moved into place on the opposite wall, and when Krul signaled, both men leapt forward. Krul shoved his palm into the back of the first guard's head, his omni-tool sizzling with electricity, temporarily paralyzing the guard. Monteague wrapped his arms around the other guard's throat, putting him in a chokehold. The commando fought, clawing desperately at Monteague's arms as he lost consciousness, his weight collapsing against Monteague who guided him down to the floor.

Garrus and the others moved in to help secure and gag the guards, pulling them back into the darkness of the main room and leaving them propped against a crate. Moving back into the hall, Garrus took up position next to the first office door, sending Sidonis and Monteague further down to scout ahead. Melenis and Krul waited opposite Garrus, on the other side of the door.

Peering through the cracks in the drawn blinds, Garrus saw two more Cerberus troops inside sitting at a desk ignoring the dead security feeds on the static filled monitors as they played cards. Garrus shook his head in disbelief. Monteague signaled that the second room further down stood empty. Garrus nodded at them, encouraging them to move to the end of the hall.

"It breaks right to another hall, boss. More offices. Want us to keep going?" Sidonis radioed back.

Garrus pitched his voice low, barely above a whisper knowing the Sidonis would hear him just fine if Monteague couldn't. "No, come on back. I don't want anyone getting separated in here. I've got a couple of guards down on this end."

Melenis caught Garrus' eye and held up a suppressor for him to see. Garrus nodded, and she attached it to the muzzle of her pistol before nodding back. Garrus waited for Sidonis and Monteague to make it back to them before palming the door control. Melenis turned into the door as it opened, smirking at the two guards as they looked up at the sound. Before they could open their mouths to sound the alarm, Melenis lifted her pistol and put one in each of their heads. She moved into the room, and fired once more into the second guard still twitching on the floor.

"Idiots should've kept their helmets on," Melenis said, moving back out of the room.

Garrus poked his head in, long enough to determine he wouldn't find anything of interest to his mission, before leading his team down to the next door. The soft glow of a couple of computer terminals broke the darkness of the room. The shipping company's logo spun around on the screens. Doubting Cerberus used Symtech's terminals, he decided to leave them for the time being and pressed on to the junction, peering around the edge.

The hall remained clear, so they moved on. Checking each room as they went, they dealt with any Cerberus troops they encountered along the way, when they couldn't simply be avoided. Finally, they reached an office—thirteen dead or disabled Cerberus commandos later—just outside of the line of sight where the maze of halls opened back up into a larger room, with a single laptop sitting on a desk. The Cerberus logo emblazoned on the back of the laptop's lid stood out like a beacon. The lights were on in the empty room, a cup of still steaming coffee sat on the desk. Whoever used the office would likely soon return.

"I count another ten in here, plus it looks like three in lab coats. That Lawson woman is at the far end of the room talking to them." Monteague's voice hissed in Garrus' earpiece. "My credits are on that being her office, and I don't think we're going to have time to poke around at your leisure, boss. What's the call?" He paused, letting his words sink in. "I've got a bead on Lawson from my twenty."

Garrus flared his mandibles, weighing out the pros and cons. Fifteen wasn't too many for his team to handle, but they'd passed by at least ten others they avoided completely. If the alarm sounded, they'd be boxed in, with their backup all the way at the back entrance. "Krul, get on it, see if you can pull it and take it with us without losing anything or having it tracked back to the base. Monteague, hold your fire."

Garrus sat at his desk, the Cerberus laptop open in front of him. Krul had taken care of the tracking, and disabled all security measures. He would've been able to get more if he'd been able to look over the laptop while connected to Cerberus' network, but Garrus had to make a call. He hoped he made the right one.

His heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach and stayed there the entire time he dug through the files on Project Lazarus. Reading about the condition they'd received Shepard's body in, kept his throat clenched, making him gasp for air. Progress reports detailing the numerous surgeries and implants they'd put inside of her made his plates itch and ache.

The attached files caught him by surprise. They spoke about the string of human colony attacks in the Terminus Systems, stating a suspicion that the collectors were responsible. Conjecture about what the collectors might want with thousands of human subjects was left to a minimum, but the files made it clear Cerberus thought Shepard could stop the attacks from happening.

The worst, though … the worst hit him when he learned someone from the Normandy turned Shepard's body over to Cerberus. The files didn't name her, only referring to them as 'she.' Discounting Liara, Tali, and Dr. Chakwas, that left … he didn't even know how many of the nameless, faceless Alliance crew there'd been keeping the Normandy running smoothly. It had to be one of them. Garrus refused to believe any of those he worked with, day in and day out, would turn to Cerberus, even in desperation to bring Shepard back. He certainly never would've …

Are you sure about that?

Garrus let out a weary sigh and leaned back in his chair, changing frequencies he pushed the button to call Shepard. "Shepard? Are you awake? We need to talk."