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"Garrus!" His sister's voice was urgent; reminiscent of so many mornings in their childhood, when Garrus would try for a few minutes' extra sleep and she would be impatient to get going.

"In a minute," he groaned.

"You have to get up now."

The sharpness of her tone, the fear in it, brought him to full wakefulness. He got quickly out of bed and left the room, squinting at her in the darkness. It was hours before either of them needed to be up and going anywhere. "What's wrong? Is it Dad?"

"No. Garrus, look." She turned the screen of her personal terminal around so that he could see it. At first, he wasn't certain what he was seeing. Some kind of vid game? He had never known Solana to play games, but all sorts of things seemed to have changed in his last absence. Then he looked more closely. He had seen beings, structures … things like that before. They were Reapers.

"What's happening? Where is that?"

"It's …" Solana swallowed, turning to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's Earth."

"Earth?" he repeated blankly. "No, that can't be. They were in batarian space before, how could they be in human—" And then it struck him, like a blow from a concussive round. Shepard. They had gone to Earth first because of Shepard, because there was no one in the galaxy they wanted dead more—because no one else in the galaxy posed anywhere near the kind of threat she did. And because they didn't want any other exceptional humans thinking they could stand up against the Reapers and succeed.

"I'm so sorry," Solana whispered.

It was on the tip of Garrus's tongue to snap at her, to tell her it wasn't possible for Shepard to be dead. But of course, it was possible. In fact, it was probable. Shepard was being held at Alliance headquarters, which would have been one of the highest priority targets for the Reapers. They would have destroyed it. He sat down in front of the terminal, peering more closely at the carnage on the screen. "London", it said. Garrus had heard of London—an important Earth city. It was being decimated. If the Reapers were hitting that this hard, what were the odds that one person in an even higher priority target area would survive? Shepard had taken the Normandy back to Earth with her, as a peace offering to the Alliance. So Joker was dead, too. The Reapers knew the Normandy. He put a hand over his face, the weight of his grief and despair pressing down on him.

Solana squeezed his shoulder. "Garrus, we need you. You know more about these things than anyone else—" She caught herself before she could say "living". "We need your help if we're going to prepare for this."

He lifted his head to look at her. "Prepare for it? Do you see that screen? Do you see what's happening? And that's just in the part we can see. They're running a loop because the communications relays were knocked out. You know what must have happened after that. How do you prepare for that?"

"Yesterday you thought you could. Yesterday you were full of plans for your task force and what you were going to need to do."

"Yesterday Shepard was alive," he whispered, feeling the depth of sorrow settling back on his shoulders.

"I know you admired her, but—"

"No. I didn't admire her. I mean, I did, but that was only part of it. I loved her, Solana."

"Yes, of course you did. She was your good friend."

He frowned, wondering how it was possible that his feelings for Shepard didn't hang about him in a cloud for everyone to see. "She was my good friend, and my commander, and my—" His what? Lover seemed inadequate, girlfriend trivial. "She was my everything, Solana. I loved her in every way possible—and she loved me."

"A human? I mean … I'm sorry, I'm just surprised. I didn't realize …"

"Apparently not. I suppose I haven't been a very good brother, have I?"

"You've been busy."

"Too busy, if it meant I kept such an important part of my life from you." He looked at her closely. "What about you? What parts of your life have I missed?"

Touched by his words, Solana reached for his hand. Then she glanced over his shoulder at the screen and the tension and fear returned to her. "There's no time now, Garrus. We need your help now. We'll talk later."

"Will there be a later?"

"Would Commander Shepard have asked that question?"

Garrus was forced to admit that she would not have. Shepard had always believed that she would succeed at whatever impossible task she had set herself to. At least, she had put on that face with everyone but him. He would have to do the same, holding back his own doubts and fears in order to build up the confidence of those around him.

He stood up, switching off the terminal, blackness replacing the looped scenes of carnage. "You're right, Solana. She wouldn't have. Thank you."

His sister nodded. "I'm sorry she's gone, Garrus. I would have liked to have met her."

"I would have liked that, too." He put his arms around her, holding her tight. "I … love you. You know that?"

She twisted her head to look up at him in surprise. Turians weren't known for spontaneous declarations or gestures of affection. "I love you, too," she said at last.

"Good. Now, go get dressed. They'll need both of us out there."

The despair he had felt earlier wasn't gone. The loss of Shepard, the sudden strike of the Reapers, hovered like a shadow at the back of his mind. But he would not dwell on it. Not now. Maybe someday when there was time, he would break down and cry. For now, he would honor her memory as it deserved to be honored—by getting out there and figuring out a way to kick some Reaper ass.