Chapter 43

Muse: Time is Running Out

October 16th, 2185
11:38pm, Omega time
Archangel's hideout

"All out of medigel," I sigh, as the last soothing drop slides over my hand wound, and my omni-tool flashes a red warning to inform me that was the last application. It's been almost an hour since I got the varren bite, and…things haven't gotten any better. The wound's continued to bleed, a mix of congealed blood and pus forming around where the varren's fangs went in, and more pumps through every time the medi-gel seal gets broken. The pain's been dulled by the painkillers in the gel, but now that it's gone…ten minutes and it's going to be throbbing horribly.

Not to mention the fact that it's not just my hand that hurts anymore. Over the past hour or so, the pain's slid up my forearm, and is working its way past my bicep, practically disabling my entire left arm. The whole limb explodes in agony when I try to move it, or flex my fingers, even with the medi-gel. Once it gets to the top of my arm and spreads further…I don't want to know.

The two of us have still managed to defend the base, Garrus more than compensating for me only being able to use a pistol, but the hour's limit we gave before taking things into our own hands is coming up…and the mercs aren't showing any sign of letting up. There's no sign of Lara Shepard. Either we get cut down in a hail of mercenary bullets, or I die inside the house from a painful infection while Garrus has to watch.

I look over the bridge, frowning. When you compare the two options, running the gauntlet doesn't seem so bad. It's quick. I get to take a few of them with me.

"You can have mine," Garrus says, looking over from his position on the balcony, crouched with his sniper rifle resting on the rail. I wave him away with a hand before he can dispense any for me, though.

"No point in both of us dying because you didn't have enough medi-gel to heal up a gunshot," I say, my throat actually feeling dry and husky. Hell, Omega was always hot, but the current temperature…I'm going into a fever. I reach over, taking a swig of one of the bottles of chilled water I've got laid about our defensive position. There's no stopping it, but I can stave it off.

"You're not going to die," Garrus says firmly, opening up the medical compartment on his suit and taking out half of his remaining capsules before I can stop him, handing them to me. "I'm not letting them kill you with an infection."

"But killing me any other way is fine?" I chuckle, which just make me cough as it rumbles up through my throat.

"It's less embarrassing," Garrus says, trying to widen his mandibles in a smile at me. "I know how much you care about your image."

"Says the guy strutting around in his bright blue armour," I reply.

"Riiight," he says. "Because a blood red…what do you call them, dragons? A blood red dragon on your chest isn't image conscious at all."

"At least my alias didn't go to my head."

"That's because no-one actually knows yours," Garrus points out. "And I got given mine. You made yours up."

"Christ, Garrus," I grin weakly. "I can't keep up with your devastating banter in this condition, you know that."

"I'll take any advantage I can get," he chuckles. "Makes a change." He looks back over the bridge with his sniper rifle scope, which has been quite for about five minutes now. "They're planning something."

"You think it's too much to hope they've just packed up and gone home?" I ask.

"I think it might be," he says, as I slowly get to my feet and walk over to the turian, who holds up the sniper scope for me to look through. I can see lots of mercs moving around…predominantly Eclipse. "Looks like Jaroth's pulled the short straw for this assault."

"He's probably still pissed about you wrecking his eezo operation," I say. Poor Jaroth. Always so angry. Though Garrus did pick off his brother during a routine weaponry shipment raid a month or so ago, plus Butler and I fucked up most of his eezo operation by finishing Ripard. He's basically the equivalent of a Scooby Doo villain for us, considering we keep foiling his dastardly schemes and he's left shaking his fist in hammy fury as we do so, which would be a lot more entertaining if he wasn't in control of an enormous mercenary group that's more than willing and able to murder us.

"Well, hopefully he'll decided to put his head out and tell me that to my face," Garrus growls, his talons tightening around the sniper rifle.

"Either they're getting ready to attack, or they're waiting for me to bleed out or something," I say, pressing my back against the balcony and sliding to sit down. I take another swig of water, desperately trying to cool the burning heat building up inside me. I'm probably thinning my blood without the amount of water I'm drinking, but I can't afford to slip out of lucidity due to fever.

"You're not going to bleed out," Garrus insists. "I'll carry you out before that can happen."

"If that's seriously the only plan we've got, we need to think this through a bit better," I chuckle. I think part of me's just accepted I'm probably screwed, hence how I'm managing to find the funny side here. That or hysteria. At least it beats being miserable.

"We'll think of something," the turian says, his voice determined. "We always do. I just need an opening. After Eclipse's next attack, we'll move."

"Move where?" I ask, feeling my body tilt in the seated position. I gasp in pain as my left arm instinctively shoots out to catch myself, and I clench my teeth as I quickly compensate with my right arm, regaining my balance. With the medi-gel already starting to wear off, the throbbing sensation is running all the way through the limb again, threatening to take my shoulder as I try to block it out, with limited success. I can feel blood and other fluid oozing out onto my hand, but I don't want to look at it, knowing I'll probably hurl. Considering how weak I feel already, that's the last thing I need.

"Just leave that to me," Garrus replies.

"That means you don't have a fucking clue," I say. Garrus doesn't reply, choosing to keep looking out over the bridge. "I'm not letting you throw your life away for me, Garrus. You can hold this place by yourself until Shepard gets here, I'll try and sneak it out myself."

"You won't make it ten yards," he says.

"And with you, I'll make it what? Fifteen?" I ask rhetorically. "Face it, mate. We need more than just words." I gasp again at a sudden throb of pain, and I feel myself sweating profusely as breath rattles out my dry throat.

"We'll think of something," he repeats.

"Right," I mutter sarcastically, shaking my head. "Something." I lean my head back, letting out a low groan at the pain as I grit my teeth. Considering my left arm's basically been paralysed, and the infection's spreading across my body, it'll probably do this until it reaches my central nervous system, and then…yeah. Goodnight, Mr. Shaw. Though 'goodnight' implies a gentle end, whereas I'm fairly sure this is going to be one of those categorised under 'extremely painful' in Death's handbook. Joy.

"Something's coming," Garrus suddenly says, leaning forward as he squints down the scope, and I clamber up to look over the balcony with my naked eyes. "They're all pointing towards us, and getting out the way of somethi -" He suddenly stops mid-sentence, since the sight approaching us doesn't need any kind of magnification to identify.

"YMIR mech," I say. "Well. Balls."

The two of us open fire at the same time. Firing one handed whilst in the throes of fever isn't the best for my accuracy, but given how big the target is, it's not such a massive issue. Garrus pours sniper shot after sniper shot into it…until the mech looks up at us, and I see the chaingun on its arm begin to whirl up. Ignoring the protest of my left arm, I fling myself down next to Garrus as bullets thud into the already chipped balcony, whizzing overhead and keeping us suppressed. "It's getting inside the house," Garrus says, pulling his assault rifle off his back. "Shit."

"That about covers it," I say back, readying my pistol as I look over the balcony and get a few shots off at its head as it passes underneath us. The shields must almost be down…but we've still got the armoured mech underneath to get through. "You take point, I'll follow behind."

"Not in that state," Garrus says firmly. "Stay here and make sure they don't send any mercs in after us."

"I'm not letting you go after a freakin' heavy mech by yourself," I protest. "That's suicide."

"I can handle it," he replies, moving in a crouch towards the door. "Stay here. I mean it." With that, he moves out, and the door slides shut as I hear the sound of assault rifle fire behind me. Heaving myself up again, I look over…and see that no mercs have followed behind. They're obviously waiting on more freelancers. Either that or they're sick of getting people killed, and they want to see how much damage a mech can do. If this doesn't work, they can always send in another one with troop support.

Leaning back, I apply one of Garrus' medi-gel applications, gasping as the pain begins to subside a fraction, and I seal up the wound from any more warm blood getting onto my hand. I can feel it, dry on my skin, breaking at every tiny movement of my hand and fingers. Nice little reminder of my mortality. Rapidly ending mortality.

The squad might not be here, but at least they're free from Omega. They're together. While I'm stuck here, slowly dying and trying to think of a way past an impregnable wall of mercs. The more I think about it, the more I find myself envying them.

I groan to myself as the pain begins to flare up again, just seconds after the medi-gel being put on. My sight's beginning to slip in and out of focus, and I feel like I've been dropped into a sauna as I sit back, my eyes drooping shut. Garrus can handle it…I just need to wait for the all clear, and we can come up with a plan, get out of here…

A frantic beeping from downstairs, combined with an explosion, brings me back to reality as I snatch up my pistol with shock, heart rate rocketing up as I realise what almost happened there. Feeling ready to fall asleep in a time like this isn't a good sign. At all. If I do…I dunno if I'm gonna get up again.

At least it sounds like Garrus' finished the mech, though. The bastard things usually explode when they go down. I struggle up to my feet, walking to the balcony to congratulate him…and I see the heavy mech stomping about.

Garrus is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he's just in cover…but why wouldn't he have come out to shoot at the mech in so long?

He told me to stay up here. For my own good. He'll be pissed if I don't follow that order. I reach back for the HVB, checking the power cell for the electrical charge is still in place.

Course, that's not really an issue if the mech's killed him. Fever or not, I can't abandon him. I'm not going to be able to take it down with a pistol…but sticking this through the back of the mech's head should deal with that problem. Trying not to move my left arm too much, I quietly head to the door leading downstairs and crouch down by the stairs, keeping hidden by the banister as I descend to the ground floor, quietly hissing in pain as I do so while the fever preys upon my mind and body. I'm not going to be able to dive roll away here, or pull some kind of acrobatic dodge…one shot, or I'm dead.

Ever so slowly, I stick my head out to see the mech with its back turned, advancing towards one of the sofas. If Garrus is behind that, I've got no time to waste.

I get to my feet, trying to run at the mech, but the best I can manage is a clumsy jog as I raise the weapon in my right hand, pointing the blade down towards as I activate the electrical charge. As soon as I reach the mech, I plunge the blade down towards its back with all the strength I have.

Too bad that amounts to virtually nothing.

It spasms as the blade makes contact, and cuts into its armour a fraction, but the blade slides out before I can correct the angle. It's a gargantuan effort to lift it up again…by which time the mech's turned around again, robot head facing me as it slams its rocket launcher arm into my chest, knocking me flying across the room, HVB falling out of my grip.

I hit the floor, barely feeling the impact as I slide for a few seconds then my head bumps against a wall lightly. I can barely breathe from the mech's hit, and I know my left arm is exploding with pain, but it feels…distant, I guess. Hell, the whole thing does. The mech seems to be whirring up its chaingun, but I sigh and close my eyes, somehow not giving a damn as my head lolls to the side, effort of keeping it up too much for me.

My eyes shut completely, and all the pain seems to drift away as I feel a small smile slip onto my face. Just a little nap. I can finally get some peace around here…

The vision flares up as I begin to drift off, but much, much weaker than usual. The images flash by, but…there's no sound. I can see the Reaper, the sight making my blood run cold, but the usual scream isn't there. The image is weird, too, slower than usual, but the orange tinge is all washed out. By the time it's halfway through, everything's going out of focus, fading out, and I'm more than happy to let it slip through my fingers. At least I don't have to worry about them for once.

Faintly, it feels like something's pressing at me, trying to make me wake up. Fuck's sake…I try to screw my eyes shut even tighter, but the pushing gets more and persistent, until I can physically feel something on my chest, slamming up and down, dragging me back into consciousness…

My eyes fly open, and I break into a coughing fit, rolling onto my left side and gasping in air. For a second, it feels fine…then the huge pressure on my left arm makes me scream, rolling back over and curling up in a ball as I feel medi-gel trying to soothe it. I'm bathed in sweat, I can hear my heart pounding in my head, and I look frantically around, fear prevalent in my mind. What the fuck happened, where's the mech, where's Garrus-

"Don't you dare die on me," I hear a flanging voice growl, as its turian owner pulls me up into a seating position and puts both his hands on my shoulders, staring into my helmet. His own helmet's off, eyes searching between the gaps in my visor. "Say something. Say something!"

"Garrus," I pant, trying to wriggle free from his grip, but the turian doesn't let me go. "I need to…the mech, I need to kill it…"

"No you don't," Garrus says gently, keeping his voice low and calming as I see mech parts scattered around, the floor nearby singed…and the HVB lying discarded near them. "You're safe, Ian, just calm down." I stop trying to break free, coughing again. "How do you feel?"

"Like a million credits," I say sarcastically, groaning as some kind of lucidity returns to me. I fell asleep. That's not good. "What happened? I remember the mech hitting me, then…"

"My rifle jammed, so I was stuck in cover. You drew the mech's attention away, and I picked up that sword and stabbed it while it was trying to kill you," Garrus explains. "You always seem to bait the bad guys, don't you?"

"Not on purpose," I reply, trying to focus on the turian's concerned face, but even the effort of that is making me lightheaded. "Why'd you wake me up?"

"Because you weren't breathing," Garrus says simply.

"Ah." He must've given me CPR…and I still feel ready to just drift again.

"Besides, even if you were, I can't have you sleeping on the job," he says, rising to his feet and extending a talon to help me up. He laughs, but the tone and expression on his face show just how scared he is. Mandibles twitching with nerves, eyes wider than usual, watching for anything out of the ordinary. "Let's go. We need to make sure they don't send reinforcements." He's trying to act like nothing's different…but we both know.

I take the help up, but I lower my helmet to look at him as I do so. "Garrus." I just say the one word, but the look on my face says infinitely more to him. No smile, no raised eyebrow, nothing. I know I look defeated. And he knows it too. "I can't do this anymore."

"We just need to wait for Shepard," he insists. "She'll know how to help you."

"Garrus, come on-"

"Or I'll take you out. We can push through them, the two of us, just like old times!"

"Garrus…"

"I told you, I'll think of a way out," he says desperately. I lower my head, sighing. "Come on, Ian, give me something to work with here!"

"That's always been your problem, mate," I say, cracking a weak smile. "You don't know when to let go." Garrus surveys me glumly, not sure what to say as his mandibles widen sadly. "I've got a plan. We're going to let a merc in here and kill him. I'll take his gear, cloak and head back across the bridge. At least I'll be able to wreak some havoc before they get me. Maybe I can destroy that gunship outright."

"You don't have to do this," Garrus says, his voice pleading. "Just wait for Shepard." I shake my head. "If you're going out there, I'm coming with you."

"No," I snap, putting as much force behind the word as my fever filled body can manage. "Don't you dare, Garrus, don't you fucking dare. If you throw your life away for me, I swear to Christ, I'll never forgive you."

"But this is suicide," he says quietly. "And you know it."

"I either die slowly here, or I go out there and actually make myself useful," I say, shrugging with only my right shoulder. "I'm not making you watch while an infection kills me off, Garrus." The poor guy's absolutely lost for words, staring at me as I try to give him a reassuring smile. "Everyone dies eventually," I say softly. "My luck had to run out sometime."

We stand there for a few seconds, Garrus obviously trying to think of some miraculous plan, some way out…then he sighs. "You bastard," he whispers, shaking his head, trying to return my smile but not doing a very good job. "You can't just expect me to go along with this."

"No," I say. "I don't. But I'm asking you as a friend. Do this one last thing for me."

"I'm not letting you go and kill yourself," he replies, conviction in his voice weak.

"Garrus, you've heard about what this kind of bite can do to people," I say. "Is that what you want for me? That's how you want to remember me?"

"My memory's going to be you getting through this," he insists.

"No." I shake my head sadly. The way he's just not letting go, refusing to give up on me…I feel like breaking down and crying, but I need to stay strong. For his sake as much as mine. "It's not. If I stay with you, you know how this'll end? I'll be up there, writhing in pain, screaming at you to finish me off. And I know you, Garrus. You won't be able to do it. I wouldn't be able to do it for you."

"At least you have a chance up there," he says. He doesn't even sound like he's convinced himself with that. Without a word, I reach over to the clasp on the left arm of my armour, opening it up for Garrus to see as I look at it myself…and close my eyes for a second as I see it.

"Shit," I whisper, pulling back the sleeve of my underlayer and looking up the arm. The skin all down the arm's turned yellow, and the veins I can see have turned black, roots of darkness climbing up my body and towards my chest. "Does this look like a chance, Garrus?" I ask rhetorically, meeting his eyes as he looks to the wound, then back at me. "Let me finish this on my own terms. Help me this one last time." The turian stares at me, obviously distraught…as he lowers his head and nods. Just once. "Thank you," I breathe. Wordlessly, Garrus heads back towards the stairs, and I walk slowly after him, waiting for the next wave of mercs to arrive.

Seeing the look on his face just before he puts his helmet on hurts almost as much as the infection.

#######

Ten minutes, one armour set later…

"Alright, I've got it synched with my omni-tool," I say, adjusting the armour one last time as I look out over the bridge, making sure the mercs can't see me. "There's enough cover out there for me to tactical cloak, hide and recharge, then move forward until I get in there. You got Weaver's charges?" Garrus hands over the explosives wordlessly, which I stash in the armour. "I'll make sure the gunship isn't coming back. Then you hold this position until Shepard arrives. Don't come after me, don't try to save me, don't do anything except hold your position. Promise me you'll do that."

"I promise," Garrus says. I try to turn out towards the bridge…but his hand suddenly snaps out, grabbing my good arm and turning me back around. "This is my fault. I should have protected you better…"

"You're not apologising for this," I say simply. "Nope. It's not happening. You couldn't have stopped that varren biting me."

"If I'd looked over the balcony and seen it, I could have," he insists.

"There's about a million 'what-if' scenarios every time something goes wrong," I say. "You blame yourself for every single one…it'll consume you, Garrus. I don't want that."

"And I don't want you to die," he says.

"Neither do I," I sigh. "But we can't have everything, can we?" I feel so remarkably calm about this. I'm going to walk out there, plant a bomb, and get killed. I guess it's the fact the alternative's a painful death from a varren bite. In relative terms, I'm getting it good with this. "This isn't your fault, Garrus." I pause for a second. "If anyone should apologise, it's me. For not telling you things earlier. About the betrayal. About Evan."

The turian chuckles, shaking his head. "I understand why you didn't."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You're not just saying that because I'm about to die?"

"I was the leader of a group dedicated to taking down the merc groups, it's not that hard to get why you didn't want to tell me you were working with one," he nods. "And the betrayal…I know you had to let it happen. I appreciate you telling me you knew. I know I got angry, but…"

"It's in the past," I say firmly. "We both made mistakes."

"Way too many," Garrus agrees. "Everything with Harga…"

"The less said about that, the better," I say. "But hey. We beat them."

"Not completely," the turian replies.

"But we made a dent. It's better than nothing." I let out a small gasp as my arm throbs, and I look over the bridge again. "I'm running out of time, Garrus."

"I know," he says sadly. "There's still time for Shepard to turn up."

"Not enough," I say. The whole area is silent, except for the sound of merc chatter and machinery being prepped across the bridge. "So…I guess this is goodbye," I finally say.

"Yeah," Garrus nods. "I guess it is."

The two of us stand there, then spontaneously hug, and I feel moisture finally form in my eyes, despite trying to force it away. "Thanks," I whisper. "For everything." I don't need to say anymore, they small nod of Garrus' head showing he understands perfectly.

"Don't mention it," he says, trying to chuckle. "Been a crazy few years, hasn't it?"

"Certainly has," I nod, breaking apart from the hug and trying not to cry as I see Garrus do the same. "Tell Shepard I said that I'm sorry I missed the party. It would've been fun."

"I'll pass it along," the turian nods, his voice shaking. I put my helmet on, ready for the walk facing me. Garrus is more than just a friend, he's a brother to me. And I know I mean the same to him. "Now go," he finally says, looking across the bridge. "Give them hell for me."

"Yes, sir," I nod. I make to turn around, then look back one last time. "Garrus, I-"

"Please," he says quietly. "Go. Before I change my mind, go."

There's no final words fitting for him. Nothing I can say to make this better. So, I turn, activating my cloak, feeling the tears flow freely now as I slowly make my way to the first bit of cover, letting the power recharge as I hide. This is better for him. At least he'll get to live on, he won't have to watch me die, and I don't have to die painfully.

I press forward again, almost at the entrance to the merc area as the pain spreads onto my left side, the arm hanging limp and useless as I shelter again, checking the explosive charges one last time. Going out with a bang. Literally. At least I can appreciate the slightly funny side.

With one final effort, I cloak and pull myself up and over the small drop onto the bridge, crawling into a blind spot as I rematerialise and get to my feet, stepping out into the open as if there's nothing suspicious at all as I walk to my right and into the docking bay that holds the gunship. I breathe a sigh of relief, seeing the area's deserted as I quickly walk to the gunship, leaning on it as I pull out the explosives and slap them on, one by one, glancing out at the mercs milling about. The fuckers don't stand a chance without this…so at least that's something.

I see the lights on the charges turn green, and I give a grim smile, pulling out the detonator as I get ready to limp to a safe distance. Then I can stay in cover, shoot until I run out of ammo, and then…die.

This is really it. I'm barely a minute away from death. And I just feel calm. Ready. It could be the fever getting to my brain, the infection gnawing away at me, but I'm prepared for this. I'll never get my answers, never understand the vision, never see the Reaper invasion. And in a way, that doesn't seem so bad.

I ready my finger over the detonator. For the last time, here goes nothing.

Then I feel a pistol pressing against the back of my head. "Don't move," a female voice, and I slowly turn around, facing the person who's going to end it all for me.

A/N: Most. Depressing. Chapter. Ever. You can tell it was raining when I wrote this.

Necessary, though. Things are coming to a close with the story…and believe it or not, we're onto the final case! One final, uber-case that's going to span a fair few chapters, but it's here nonetheless. Plenty of action, twists, romance, excitement, answers…I got it all planned out, and it looks like it's gonna be one hell of a ride. In theory.

With the final case looming, again, I want to say thank you to you all for sticking with the story this far. I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Oh, and I'm on holiday from Friday until Monday. Insane update rate shall continue when I get back :)

Until then!