This is super long, just so you know. It's a section out a larger fic I wrote a little while ago and never published. Hope it's okay!

"Joker, what's our ETA?"

Garrus heard him sigh through the comm system. "Five hours, give or take. Just like I told you ten minutes ago."

"Sorry," Garrus apologized, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm just anxious, I guess."

"You and me both, asshole," Joker shot back. "You're not the only one on board who cared about her, you know."

Garrus winced at his unusually sharp tone. Since landing on that godforsaken garden world, Joker's sense of humor had all but vanished, only to be replaced with sharp retorts and biting insults. Garrus couldn't blame him, really. Tali and Engineer Adams had yet to figure out how to turn EDI back on, and it had been six weeks. Still, they worked hard at it. Garrus figured they were trying to keep their mind off things, just like he was.

"I know, I know," he apologized, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his talons together. "I'll stop asking."

Joker sighed, sounding tinny through the comm. "Shit, I—sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's fine."

"It's not. I'm just wound pretty tight, I guess."

"We'll get EDI back online, Joker," Garrus assured him, although the sentiment felt empty. There was no guarantee they could bring EDI back. They both knew it. Still, all they could do was hope.

"Yeah, I…I know," Joker said quietly. "It's the waiting that kills me."

"I know what you mean."

"Yeah." He breathed. "Yeah, I guess you do. I'll let you know when we break atmo, all right?"

The comm went silent, leaving Garrus alone with his thoughts. Before everything happened, Shepard's burbling fish tank had been the only sound in her cabin—its absence was more than obvious now. The glass had cracked during the crash, draining the water and flooding her cabin. It had long since been cleaned up, but they'd reserved their water supply for survival instead of refilling Shepard's fish tank. Smart, but not comforting. It was just another part of her that was missing from the ship.

Garrus rubbed at his eyes and sighed, sinking back into the chair at Shepard's old desk. The light next to her terminal wasn't blinking—no connection. Not yet, at least. That would change when they broke Earth's atmosphere and got in range of their comm towers, providing they could get through the checkpoint the humans had set up to scan for any remaining Reaper tech. Every ship was going through the process, and they weren't anywhere close to getting through the line.

"Even with the galaxy half-destroyed, we're still tied up with red tape," he muttered. Garrus looked up at the model SR1 in the center of her model display case. "You'd hate this, Shepard."

The one time my Spectre status would come in handy. He could almost see her smirking at him, lips quirked on one side.

"Come on, you hate using that excuse."

You're right, but I'd make an exception in this case. We did save the galaxy, after all.

Garrus chuckled, half-expecting Shepard to come out of the bathroom behind him and wrap her arms around his neck the way she used to. When the door didn't whoosh open, he crashed back to the cold, empty reality around him.

Shepard wasn't there. Hadn't been for six weeks. Still, it was like he could hear her voice as if she were right next to him. Maybe he was going crazy—not that he really cared.

"Where are you, Shepard?" he whispered to no one.

Her hamster remained quiet on the subject.

Garrus was half-tempted to ping Joker again, but decided against it. The pilot's fuse was short and getting shorter with each passing day. Garrus felt a pang of sympathy for him—in the span of five minutes, he'd lost both his girlfriend and his C.O., whom he'd known much longer than Garrus had. If anyone on the ship deserved to be angry, it was Joker.

Garrus couldn't stomach anger anymore. Now all he felt was fear.

Garrus pushed out of Shepard's chair and walked down the short steps toward her bed, which he had taken over in the last six weeks. He knew that if Shepard saw how messy and wrinkled the sheets were, she'd slap him upside the head. Shepard never left her bed unmade.

At least, not until she started spending her nights with him.

Garrus sat at the foot of the bed, looking up through the window in her ceiling. "Impractical and stupid," she used to tell him. "But the view is nice, I guess."

She wouldn't be saying that about the current view. Garrus couldn't see Earth from this angle, but the charred skeleton of the Citadel floated above them, drifting aimlessly. The wards were mostly intact, as far as he could tell, but the crisscrossing lights that always marked them were eerily absent. The Presidium ring was fractured in several places, but somehow managed to hold its shape in the blast. Still, it was an empty, half-burnt shell of what the station had been before the war. He wondered how many millions of people died onboard.

He wondered if she was up there somewhere.

With great difficulty, Garrus averted his eyes from the Citadel's remains. He was so close to having an answer. He wouldn't have to wonder for much longer.

"I miss you," he said to no one.

You'll find me. We always find each other, Garrus.

"Wait for me, Shepard. Just a little longer."

Always.

Flopping back on the bed, Garrus closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her sheets. They had long since stopped smelling like her, but that didn't matter. He remembered every second they'd spent together in this bed, and those memories didn't disappear easily.

Garrus closed his eyes and slept. He dreamt of her.

"Engineer, ten o'clock," Shepard said flatly.

Garrus lined up the shot and fired, humming in satisfaction as the turret harnessed to the Cerberus engineer's back exploded in a flurry of sparks. Another shot from Shepard's rifle took his head clean off.

"You stole my kill," he observed drily. He knew she was positioned up on the balcony above the courtyard, keeping the Grissom students in her peripherals as they held their barriers under fire.

He could almost hear the smirk in her voice. "You were taking too long."

"Patience is a virtue, you know."

"I've never been good at waiting."

"No wonder you're such a terrible sniper."

"Hey," she objected. "That shot was flawless and you know it. Trooper, two o'clock."

Garrus squeezed off the shot, hitting the Cerberus grunt with a concussive round before reloading and finishing him off with a clean shot to the chest. He groaned and crumpled to the ground in a heap of smoking armor. Even though Garrus wasn't sure Shepard could see him, he glanced up at the balcony and raised a browplate in silent challenge.

"Two bullets?" she scoffed. "You're slipping, Vakarian. You could've done that in one."

"The score is seventeen to sixteen, so I think you're the one who's slipping. Sitting on your ass for six months has done you no favors."

"Screw you."

"Maybe later," he hummed, picking off another Cerberus engineer in the middle of setting up a turret. The telltale beep of a smokescreen grenade came from their left and clouded his view of the door. "More coming from the left."

"I see them," Shepard answered tersely as she squeezed off another shot to take down an engineer.

"Uh, guys?" Vega's voice crackled through the comm, sounding uncomfortable. "If you're going to flirt, you might want to open up a private channel or somethin'."

"Too much effort," Shepard shrugged. "Centurions are walking out of that smokescreen, Vega. Watch your ass."

"Shit, there are six of them. Anybody want to lend me a hand?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Shepard trailed suggestively. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shepard vault over the low wall where she'd been taking cover and land in a roll on the lower level of the courtyard. Garrus heard her take a deep breath that hitched at its apex and he flinched, sensing what was coming.

The pressure in Garrus' ears fluctuated and he heard a deafening boom as Shepard charged at the group of Centurions that had moved to the center of the courtyard near James. Garrus released his finger from the trigger until he could see where she'd ended up. Last time she'd done her biotic charge without warning, he'd clipped her shields with an incendiary round as soon as she'd appeared. He didn't hear the end of that one for days.

In an explosion of blue, Shepard reappeared in the midst of the Centurions, knocking them back a few steps before she cried out and slammed her fist to the ground, sending the majority of the soldiers flying in every direction. Vega picked off two of them midair, Garrus killed another three with a few quick shots, and Shepard finished the last on with a shotgun blast to the chest at point-blank range.

The courtyard was quiet after that. Shepard was breathing heavily and her knees were bent in a crouch as she circled, eyes searching for more Cerberus troops. When she saw none, she holstered her shotgun and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear before looking up at the balcony to check on the students.

"Fuck, Shepard," Jack called out, leaning her elbows on the guardrail of the balcony. Her students crowded around her, looking at Shepard with thinly veiled amazement. "I forgot how loud you are when you charge like that."

"You complaining?"

"Nope," Jack smirked. She jerked her head over her shoulder, gesturing to her students. "But you're making them pretty jealous. Soon they're all gonna want an L5n like yours."

Shepard chuckled, waving her off, and turned her attention back to the pile of Cerberus bodies in front of her. Jack and her students moved along the balcony toward the shuttle bay, checking injuries and rifling through their armor compartments for any spare thermal clips or a handy document titled "Why Cerberus is Attacking a School for Biotics." When she didn't find anything, she stood up and kicked the dead trooper, cursing softly.

James ducked out from behind a nearby bullet-riddled planter and snapped his fingers by his ear. "A little warning next time, Lola? Pretty sure you blew out one of my eardrums."

"Count yourself lucky that it was just your ears," Garrus remarked from across the way. "I've seen her blow limbs off Collectors just by shouting at them."

Garrus jumped down from his cover and trotted over to stand next to Shepard, smiling slightly. She returned the smile, but it was tight and her eyes relayed a deep frustration. She rubbed the base of her skull, wincing when she touched the implant that was beneath her skin.

"I hate when you do that, you know," Garrus quipped, holstering his rifle and standing up from his cover.

She turned and peered up at him, gesturing to the plethora of dead bodies scattered around them. "Can't argue with results, Vakarian. Complain all you want."

"Never said I was complaining," he said seriously, lowering his voice so Vega couldn't hear. "That was a pretty large distance you covered back there. You okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied, rolling her shoulders and wincing. "Just out of practice, that's all."

"Shepard."

"I said I'm fine."

The tight set of her jaw and the raggedness of her breathing said otherwise, but Garrus didn't push. He knew that face, the one that told him she wouldn't back down without a fight. He decided to broach the subject back on the Normandy once they got the students off the station. Reluctantly Garrus nodded and killed the private channel, pulling out his rifle and taking his place at her six. Vega fell in behind him as Shepard turned on her heel and walked toward the door at the far end of the room.

"Jack," Shepard barked, pulling out her pistol and holding it in front of her as she moved, checking corners. Blue biotic sparks jumped across the surface of her scuffed armor. "You guys make it the shuttle?"

"Yeah, we're here. No Cerberus troops in sight. Are you comin' or what?"

Shepard didn't lower her weapon as she entered the large room where they were supposed to be picked up. "Be there in one minute. Making sure we didn't miss anything."

Shepard signaled for James and Garrus to flank left and right, respectively. Garrus started climbing the ramp to the balcony that lined the entirety of the right side of the room.

Shepard continued up the middle, eyes darting around the room suspiciously. "Am I crazy, or does this feel too easy?"

"You read my mind," Garrus whispered. "I'm not seeing any movement. Plan, Shepard?"

No response. He frowned and tried again. "Still breathing down there?"

"Normandy, do you copy? I need an evac. Right now!"

Garrus' blood turned to ice in his veins.

He knew those words. He knew them like he knew her laugh, her smile, the way she hummed before jumping from cover to cover. The way she popped her index finger knuckle with her thumb when she was nervous. Every lilt and inflection in that statement had been burned into his memories on that day.

He knew those words and wished he didn't.

His rifle slipped from his shaking hands and he reached to catch it, but it dissipated like smoke just before it hit the ground. Debilitating pain shot through his knees and he crumpled halfway to the ground before Liara materialized underneath one of his arms, holding him up. She looked like she was about to cry and was staring at a point just past his shoulder.

His skin felt hot and cold and all wrong at the same time and he didn't know what was going on—

Shepard was looking up at him from the bottom of the Normandy shuttle bay ramp. Her face streaked with dirt and blood and her hair was singed at the ends, no longer up in its usual coif. It was…wrong. Everything was wrong.

"Don't argue, Garrus," she said softly. Too softly. She wasn't shouting to be heard over Harbinger's beam. She didn't seem to notice the screams of the Alliance soldiers around them as they were incinerated, whole groups at a time. There was fire. Lots and lots of fire and more screaming and she didn't care about any of it.

"We're in this till the end," he heard himself say. Desperation flooded his subvocals and he couldn't hide it. Didn't care.

Shepard started stepping up the ramp, slowly, purposefully. Her piercing gaze never left his. "No matter what happens here…"

She reached out and her fingers ghosted over the scarred side of his face. He didn't feel anything.

He was just cold. So very, very cold.

"…you know I love you," she finished, her voice slipping away. "I always will."

The ground opened up beneath them both and swallowed the scene, plunging him into darkness. He swung around wildly, arms outstretched to clutch at Shepard's hand, arm, waist, something. Anything that would keep her here.

He had to say it back. She had to know how much he loved her, how she was the thing that kept him breathing and no one else mattered, not anyone in the entire galaxy.

But Shepard was gone.

"We're through the checkpoint."

Garrus snapped out of the nightmare, gasping for breath and clawing uselessly at the sheets. They'd been torn to ribbons again—he really needed to track down a file as soon as they got to Earth. Wildly, he looked around the room expecting to see Shepard standing somewhere nearby, still reaching out to him and looking beautiful despite the blood and dirt smeared across her cheeks.

Shepard wasn't there. She never was.

Groaning, Garrus flopped back on the bed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He'd lost count of how many time he'd had that nightmare. The beginning was always a different mission they'd been on, even reaching back as far as their days hunting Saren. Even on those missions when their shoulder brushes hadn't meant anything, she still haunted him with her subtle smiles and her fierce eyes that could make the toughest krogan shake in their armor.

The dream always ended the same way, though. With fire, blood, and the crushing feeling of being completely and utterly alone.

He sat up and untangled himself from the remnants of the sheets he'd destroyed. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he massaged the back of his neck and closed his eyes in an attempt to steady his ragged breathing. He was sore—shouldn't have slept in his armor, he thought as he tried to work out a kink in his neck and shoulders.

"Garrus?" Joker asked, sounding uncertain. "You alive in there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm here. Thanks," he rumbled, coughing to get the morning heaviness out of his voice.

"Do you want to call Hackett now or wait until we land?"

"Now," he replied quickly, standing up and heading for the door of her cabin, foregoing the shower for the time being. He pressed the button to call the elevator a little more forcefully than necessary.

"I'll set it up for you in the vidcomm room. Oh, and Garrus?" Joker asked, suddenly sounding nervous. "Do you mind if we all listen in?"

The elevator door opened in front of him. He stepped in and pressed the button to descend, replying, "I don't care. Have Liara meet me in the comm room, though. Need to ask her a few things beforehand."

"Will do. And thanks. We're all really…anxious to hear the news."

Garrus knew what he wanted to say: they were scared, not anxious.

As he stepped out of the elevator that emptied him out into the CIC, he saw all eyes of the crewmembers around the galaxy map turn to meet him. Some of the crew were wringing their hands together nervously, others looked dejected and resigned, as if expecting the worst. Traynor was the only one who didn't look at him directly, choosing instead to sit on the steps of the galaxy map and bite her nails.

Squaring his shoulders, he nodded at all of them and turned toward the war room checkpoint. Shepard had always been good at maintaining morale on the ship, even when things looked bleak. He wasn't sure how she managed that. He didn't think he would ever know.

Westmoreland and Campbell had long since abandoned their post at the war room door, opting instead to help with the navigational systems up closer to the cockpit, so he got through without being stopped and scanned. He'd always hated that damn scanner anyway.

His steps faltered when the glass-walled briefing room came into view. He remembered finding Shepard in here countless times, elbow-deep in paperwork and reports for Hackett. The wisps of one particular memory sank its claws into him, dragging him back down into the murky depths of his own mind.

"Hey," he greeted softly, leaning against the threshold of the briefing room.

"Hey yourself." She was sitting at the head of the table, datapads and stacks of paper scattered in front of her. Her legs were twisted and crossed beneath her in some weird fashion that couldn't possibly be comfortable.

The dark shadows beneath her eyes were more prominent than they were yesterday. He murmured, "Not sleeping?"

Shepard shrugged, leaning back in her chair, grabbing her mug of coffee. She stared into its rich depths and avoided his eyes. "Not well."

"Nightmares?"

"The same one as before. More ghosts this time."

"Shepard," Garrus murmured. He crossed the room to stand behind her chair and set a tentative hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Tell me how I can help."

She leaned her head back against his abdomen and sighed quietly. "Unless you have a couple thousand ground troops hiding somewhere in that armor of yours, I don't think you'll be able to help me out too much."

"You think what we have isn't going to be enough?"

"I know it isn't. God, Garrus, I just…I feel like I've done everything I was supposed to do and it ended up amounting to absolutely nothing."

She looked up at him through her lashes, concern knitting her eyebrows together. Absentmindedly, Garrus ran his talons through the loose strands of her hair and hummed under his breath. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I happen to know a pretty decent turian sniper who's fighting on your side. He makes up for an entire fleet by himself, if you ask me."

"Pretty decent?" She smiled wryly.

"More than decent. He's practically verging on legendary status."

"I don't know," she trailed off, shaking her head. "Some say he's a pretty mouthy asshole who clips his C.O.'s shields in the middle of combat."

"That was one time, Shepard."

"You're going to be hearing about that one for years. Get used to it."

Whatever sardonic comment Garrus had prepared died in his throat. He looked down at Shepard and laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Years, huh?"

Shepard's eyes widened a fraction, suddenly realizing what she'd just said. "Well, I—not that I don't want—shit, I'm terrible at this. It just slipped out."

"It's okay, Shepard," he assured her, trailing his talons up and down the smooth column of her neck. Her pulse was fluttering rapidly under his touch. "I suppose I could go for a few more years with you. More than a few, if…if you'll have me?"

Her face softened and she reached up to entwine her fingers with his, stopping his ministrations on the soft junction of her neck and shoulder. "Like you even have to ask."

It was the first time they'd ever talked about the concept of "after" the war. For months, they'd both been too scared to mention it, as if talking about the possibility of surviving would jinx the outcome somehow. Looking back on it, Garrus regretted not talking about it. Too many things left unsaid, too many emotions kept behind locked doors.

Now, he was scared he'd never get the chance to remedy that.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Garrus trudged through the remains of the cluttered war room. Once in the vidcomm room, he noticed with relief that the main control terminal was blinking green. They finally had a connection.

"Garrus," a soothing voice called out behind him. He turned just in time to see Liara jogging up behind him, carting several datapads in her arms with Glyph in tow. She smiled sadly at Garrus, barely managing to hide the fact that she was scared out of her mind as well.

"Hey," he greeted gruffly, taking a datapad when she held it out to her.

"Since we broke atmo, I've been searching for any news of her," she explained, dumping the datapads in a pile on a nearby desk. She began to sort them into different stacks. "So far, nothing. But I've only been at this for five minutes, so give me a little credit. I'm going to hit Alliance channels next and see what I can find."

Garrus skimmed the words in front of him, barely registering their meaning.

Where is the Great Hero?

Commander Shepard: Alliance Won't Break the Six-Week Silence!

Hospitals Flood with Cybernetic Short-Outs

Report: Citadel Ruins Remain Inactive

All speculation and rumor, Garrus noted bitterly. Nothing real. Nothing that would point them in the right direction.

"How long will it take you to crack Alliance channels?"

"Please," Liara scoffed, sounding almost offended. "Their security is pitiful. It'll take no more than five minutes."

Garrus hummed and continued to scroll through the articles that flooded the screen of the datapad. Countless articles with Shepard's name were splashed across the screen, but most of them were recounts of past missions (blown way out of proportion, he might add) or videos of interviews she'd done with Allers and Al-Jilani over the years.

"Looks like no one's heard from her since that day," he muttered, skimming through a few more useless articles.

"I doubt the Alliance would broadcast her location so freely."

"I know, but Hackett wouldn't pass up a chance to use her for marketing."

Liara stopped typing and glanced up at him pointedly. "I sincerely hope you have a better attitude than that before you speak with him."

"I'm not Alliance. I don't have to play nice with him."

"You do if you want to find out where they're keeping her. If they have her at all, that is."

Garrus glared down at the datapad, avoiding her eyes. "That bastard sent her on errands, Liara. Forgive me if I'm not too fond of the guy."

"Shepard respected him. She did those missions because it was her job and she knew that. Did you ever hear her complain about them?"

Garrus sighed deeply and leaned back against the terminal, admitting, "No, but someone else could have done them. She had more important things to worry about at the time than tiny Cerberus labs out in the ass-end of space."

Liara gave him a knowing look. "She cared about those people, Garrus."

"I…yeah, I know. Sorry. I'm just—"

"Terrified?" Liara suggested. She averted her gaze to the floor, looking sullen. "I know how you feel."

Garrus hummed under his breath and tried to keep the low, keening note out of his subvocals as he continued to scroll. A small looping gif in the corner of one of the articles (Five Tips to Get Commander Shepard's Signature Hairstyle!) caught his eye. He zoomed in on it and fought down the knot that was tightening in his chest.

She was sitting in the Presidium Commons at a table in the café she liked, the one that served traditional human breakfasts all day long. She was wearing her civvies—the video was probably taken during their last round of shore leave, he thought. The artificial breeze was gently teasing the loose strands of her hair that had fallen out of her ponytail and didn't have those dark circles underneath her eyes for once. A small smile curled the edges of her mouth as she turned the page in an old-fashioned paper book she was reading. In the last second of the gif, Shepard looked up at whoever had been holding the camera, first looking confused before smiling warmly at the person.

She didn't look stressed. She didn't look exhausted.

She looked like the Shepard he loved, not the one the media made up. The Shepard who would stay up late with her crew members and tell war stories during endless rounds of Skyllian Five; who would tease him relentlessly about his affinity for calibrations and would kick ass on the ground while smiling politely at diplomats who deserved far less than what she gave them.

She looked like the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Liara must have sensed his grief. She gave him a pitying look. "We're going to find her, Garrus," she assured him softly, placing a hand on his arm. "She's out there somewhere."

"Right," he agreed, his voice jagged and half-broken. With the extranet damaged and EDI the way that she was, they hadn't been able to find any recordings or news about Shepard while they were stranded. The sudden onslaught of memories was downright debilitating.

"Joker," Garrus grumbled, attempting to put a stoic mask back in place. Shepard had always been better at hiding her emotions than him. Gingerly, he gave the datapad back to Liara. "Hail Admiral Hackett for me. We're wasting too much time."

"Hailing him now."

Garrus turned back to the vidcomm, bracing his hands against the blinking console. He heard Liara typing frantically, trying to find any information that she could on Shepard's whereabouts. Bracing himself, he pressed the central button and watched grimly as Hackett materialized in front of him, blue and flickering, but unflinching as ever.

"Officer Vakarian," he greeted flatly. He turned his head and took notice of Liara in the background, nodding to her. "Dr. T'Soni. I'm pleased to see both of you in one piece."

"Where's Shepard?" Garrus asked suddenly. Shepard never wasted time with empty sentiments and pleasantries—she always got straight to the point.

Hackett pointedly ignored him. "How's the Normandy faring?"

Garrus opened his mouth to snarl something at Hackett, but Liara put a hand on his shoulder and sent a subtle shock through him with her biotics. Shut up, she was telling him, although she probably wouldn't use such kind words. He clenched his jaw in frustration, but backed off nonetheless, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The ship is functioning," Liara informed the Admiral. "We have minor hull damage and some issues with a few of our port thrusters, but everything else seems to be in good shape."

"Your message reported casualties."

"The AI," Liara explained patiently. "We considered her to be a part of our crew and are treating her as a casualty until we can figure out how to restart her systems safely."

"That was…misleading," Hackett remarked, rubbing his neck and frowning.

"We apologize. We had very limited extranet capabilities while we were out there. The message could only hold so much information."

"I understand," Hackett said, grimacing. Straightening his shoulders and holding his hands behind his back, he looked Garrus in the eye and scrutinized him. "I'll be sure to clear up the confusion in my report."

"I'm not Alliance," Garrus snapped suddenly, startling Liara and Hackett with the outburst, "So I'm not going to play diplomat with you. Tell us where Shepard is."

Hackett narrowed his eyes at the turian. Gruffly, he replied, "Tell your pilot to land at the Alliance air base near Denver, Colorado. You'll all be debriefed and then we can talk."

"Dammit, at least tell us if she's alive or not!"

"I can't do that. There are too many eyes on Alliance channels right now and as far as we know, Cerberus is still active."

"Admiral," Liara pleaded, her eyes misty. "Please. If there's anything, anything at all that you can tell us, we need to know."

Silence filled the space between them as Hackett hesitated. He wanted to tell them, that much was obvious.

Garrus clenched his fists. Liara held her breath.

Hackett clenched his jaw and blinked quickly in succession, his steely gaze darting between Liara and Garrus. "Come to Denver. I'll expect you within the hour. Hackett out."

The hologram collapsed, leaving the two of them in darkness, save the orange glow from Liara's stack of datapads. A low growl escaped Garrus' mouth and he slammed his fists against the railing around the vidcomm station.

"So close and they won't tell us anything," Garrus snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. "So goddamn close."

"There has to be a paper trail," Liara muttered numbly, turning back to her collection of tablets. She typed so quickly her fingers became a blue blur over the keyboard. Garrus almost missed the trembling that pervaded her hands. "A ship manifest, a medical release…something. I'll find her."

"Joker," Garrus called out.

"Yeah," the pilot answered, sounding resigned and even more depressed than usual.

"Take us to Denver ASAP. Break laws if you have to."

"Roger that."

Breathing deeply to reign in his rage at the Admiral, Garrus turned to Liara and stepped next to her to look over her shoulder. "Found anything?"

"Not yet," she said, clipped. "No medical forms or credit transfers under her name, or under the Alliance's. Her name isn't coming up at all. The network is pretty frayed right now, though. She could have slipped through."

Garrus reached over and took one of the tablets, typing out a few commands to narrow the search. They worked silently for a few minutes, side by side, shoulders stiff with unspoken fears. The only sound between them was the padding of fingers against the screens of the tablets in front of them. Glyph hovered silently off to the side.

Garrus searched for her using her full name, the name she used when she was running with the Reds before she enlisted, her mother's name. Nothing came up. All information networks were tied up by the enormous influx of messages from other the other Council races and planets in need of assistance from ships with functioning FTL drives. Refugees needed travel arrangements and medical supplies. Everybody seemed to need something, and absolutely none of it pointed to Shepard.

After several more minutes of tense silence, Garrus heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind them. They both looked over their shoulders to see Traynor standing in the doorway of the vidcomm room. The glowing datapad she was hugging to her chest cast long shadows across her face, making her cheeks look more gaunt than usual; the shadows under her eyes were worse than Kaiden's, Garrus thought. However, there was an energetic spark in her eyes that hadn't been there for the past six weeks.

"Pardon me," Traynor called out softly. She was biting the inside of her cheek and shuffling her feet nervously.

"What is it, Samantha?" Liara asked gently.

Traynor winced. "Now, this could be a complete coincidence. Just want to throw that out there before I start."

Garrus turned to look at her fully, peering down at the Comm Specialist. He remembered Shepard telling him about the signals Samantha always seemed to intercept, as if she had a sixth sense for them.

"What do you think of the new Comm Specialist?" he asked Shepard breathlessly, bracing himself for the furious kick she directed at his ribs. He trapped her ankle against his waist and yanked her forward off her feet with a low growl.

Released from his grip, Shepard rolled across the mat and sprang back up onto her feet. She regarded him with narrowed eyes as she waited for him to lunge first, but became impatient when he kept up his guard. Shepard spun and feinted left, coming up sharply with her elbow in an attempt to catch the underside of his jaw, but he intercepted the move and the blow glanced off his mandible harmlessly. He knew Shepard wasn't pulling her punches, but she definitely wasn't focused, either. She was telegraphing her moves and her feet were spaced way too far apart.

Shepard backed up and bounced lightly on her toes, fists out in front of her face as they circled each other. She panted, "Who, Traynor? She's good."

He directed a swift right hook at her face, which she easily dodged. "But?"

A frown creased her eyebrows as she admitted, "Christ, Garrus, she's just a kid. I should feel bad about keeping her on a war ship."

"But you don't?"

"Not really, no."

"Care to elaborate?" Garrus lunged forward and took another swipe at her face, but she saw it coming and blocked, sliding her other arm up behind his and turning sharply. He recognized her attempt to dislocate his shoulder and kicked outward, swiping her feet out from under her. They landed in a heap on the mat.

"She hasn't misinterpreted a signal yet," Shepard ground out, struggling to find a foothold to pin him down. "She's smart and takes her own initiative. Asks the right questions."

She grunted and rolled over, securing his elbow joint between her thighs and his wrist in both of her hands. She hissed sharply when his elbow spur caught and dragged sharply against the soft skin of her inner thigh, but maintained her grip regardless. She straightened her legs out to lock him in a basic armbar position, one she didn't think he was familiar with. She arched her back against the mat and pressed one leg against his chest and the other against his throat, gritting her teeth as he struggled against the hold.

"Shepard," he choked out, purposefully tapping her hip three times with his free hand. Recognizing the signal, she released him in an instant and they both collapsed back against the mat, totally spent.

"Sorry," she breathed, turning her head to grin at him. Wisps of hair that had escaped her hair elastic were matted to her forehead. A thin sheen of sweat covered her flushed skin.

Garrus waved her off, coughing and gulping in deep breaths of air. He insisted "I'm…I'm fine. You just caught me by surprise. I always forget you fight dirty when I get too close."

She laughed sharply and bumped his shoulder. "You don't exactly pull your punches either, so let's call it even."

"Fine by me. You'll have to teach me that move sometime."

Shepard rolled over onto her stomach and leaned up on her elbows to look down at his face. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I'm allowed to have some secrets from you."

Garrus chuckled and brought a hand up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "As if you don't have enough of those already."

"Ignorance is bliss."

"So you keep telling me."

"You really want to know where I learned that move?" she asked, suddenly serious. Her fingers stroked idly at the unscarred side of his face, tracing the sharp edges she found there.

Garrus met her gaze. He knew she would tell him if he pressed, but the pain hidden behind her eyes told him that maybe he really didn't want to know after all.

"No," he murmured, tracing the gentle arch of her cheekbone. "It's not important. We can go back to talking about Specialist Traynor, if you'd like."

A grateful smile crinkled the corners of her eyes; Garrus had made the right choice not to pursue the topic. "Traynor deserves her spot on this ship. If she ever says something, you'd be smart to listen to her."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"It could be a coincidence," Traynor had said. Shepard never believed in coincidences, not since Garrus had known her. If Traynor had some kind of lead on Shepard's location, he needed to know about it. His heart began to race ever so slightly. "Spit it out, Traynor."

"Right. Um." She looked up at Garrus and gave him a weak smile before stepping around him to stand in front of the vidcomm terminal he'd been using earlier. She tapped out a few commands and brought up the hologram of Hackett—a recording of their earlier conversation. The Admiral's lips were moving soundlessly as Traynor slowed the recording down significantly.

"Like I said," she explained, "This could be a total coincidence. I was watching your conversation from my terminal in the CIC when I noticed something…odd."

"Odd?" Liara echoed, her fingers pausing over the keyboard of her own datapad. Traynor had caught her full attention.

Traynor nodded. "Yes, odd. Do either of you know what Morse code is?"

They both frowned. "No."

"It's an old form of communication that was used in our military during the twentieth and twenty-first century. Each letter of the English alphabet was assigned corresponding dots and dashes so soldiers and spies could transfer messages discreetly, such as tapping a pen against a desk or something like that." Traynor turned and pointed at Hackett's face, continuing, "I think he tried to tell you something using Morse code right before he hopped off the call."

"Holy shit, Traynor," Joker said, awed and tinny through the comm speaker. "Sorry for eavesdropping and all that, but holy shit!"

"It's possible it could be a coincidence!" she cried out in protest, sensing the buildup of tension in the room. "Morse code is still taught to soldiers and spies on Earth. Any human on this ship would be able to recognize it."

"So Admiral Hackett gave us a hidden message. What was it?" Garrus asked, not yet daring to hope.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, wringing her hands. She turned back to the slow-motion hologram of Hackett and scrutinized his face closely. "I needed a larger display to be sure of what I saw, which is why I came back here."

Garrus abandoned the datapad he'd been using and stepped next to Traynor, searching Admiral Hackett's face for any indication of the strange code language she'd mentioned. He didn't know what he was looking for, but paid attention to every excruciating detail anyway.

Several beats of silence passed between them all. The only sound was the rush of blood in Garrus' ears and the pounding of his heart.

The recording ended, plunging them into darkness once more.

"One more time," Traynor muttered, typing swiftly. The hologram popped back up and played through once more, the Admiral's lips moving slowly and soundlessly. Even after watching it again, Garrus wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking for. A minute passed in strained silence as all three of them scrutinized every detail of Hackett's face.

When the recording ended the second time, he looked to Traynor.

"Oh my God," she whispered, covering her mouth with trembling hands.

Garrus couldn't find his voice to ask what had been gleaned from the recording. He felt like he was trapped in one of Shepard's crippling holds for far too long, stiff with fear and lungs empty and struggling for air. His knees felt dangerously weak.

Liara spoke for him, sounding deceptively calm. "Traynor, what did he say?"

Samantha turned toward the both of them, her eyes wide with an emotion Garrus couldn't recognize. With a tremulous lilt in her voice, she choked out, "Hackett…he said—he signaled the letter y. Just the one letter, not an entire word or phrase."

"Y," Liara repeated flatly. "To stand for what, exactly?"

"Yes," Garrus whispered, subvocals flanging deeply. "He was saying yes."

Liara covered her mouth with both her hands, gasping. "Goddess. Shepard…"

Garrus closed his eyes and leaned heavily on the guardrail, allowing his knees to buckle beneath him. He felt like he'd been shot in the chest with a concussive round at point-blank range.

If Traynor was right, then…

"She's alive," he murmured, not quite believing his own words. "Hackett is saying that she's alive."

Side note: I'm working on another story for Mass Effect. Shakarian, obviously. If you want, check my profile for "In All the Old Familiar Places." I'll be focusing more on that one for now.

Please review, you lovely people.