Tali was glad she'd convinced Garrus to come with her on this first excursion onto Rannoch's surface as (technically) Tali'Zorah vas Rannoch. It hadn't been hard—reconstruction and relief weren't really his strong points…and she thought it might just be hard on him, on many, to see someone reconstructing after reclaiming a homeworld while their own still burned.

She frowned, finding that the idea of giving up her ship name—which the Admirals had tried to hang around her neck like a badge of shame, but which was something she was very proud of—was repugnant.

In a strange inversion of ideas, all she could see as she looked out over the gorgeous landscape was what it cost—and so much of that cost, the part that seemed unnecessary at the time, seemed so pointless now; she could hear Legion in those last few moments; she was aware of the blood, sweat and tears paid out so she and her people could be here, and much of the sweat and tears were paid by people who would never come back.

It was a bitter pill, and she was glad she didn't have to admit it to anyone.

Here they were though, quarians on Rannoch and the geth willing to let them be there. She worried about Xen, loony that she was; she worried about Gerrel, loose cannon that he was, getting clever ideas. But without her, any close vote would equal a stalemate and they'd have to bring it to her in absentia.

She shook herself. If she wasn't staying, she should at least take time to enjoy the scenery, to take the moments during which it was beautiful and perfect with her. She had the feeling she'd be seeing a lot of unbeautiful, horribly un-perfect places in the very near future.

She glanced over at Garrus as she found a rock and sat down on it, admiring the riotous colors beginning to show as the sun moved towards its final descent. Garrus was showing strain himself, and part of her felt guilty for not having been there to help. They hadn't talked much, what with events happening so quickly, but she had the impression that seeing Palaven hit so hard, seeing his people put down so fast, and nearly losing the Citadel, had begun to wear hard on him.

At risk of trying to snake her arm around his, she bent over and picked up a rock, turning it over in her hands.

Unexpectedly, Garrus looped an arm around her neck. A soft vibration—evidence of a sound she couldn't hear—shivered against her arm. "So. Homeworld."

"I guess." Setting the rock aside, she tried to shift the conversation because suddenly there was too much quiet. Holding her thumb and forefinger to form a little box, she forced herself to smile and hoped the smile and not the effort would show in her tone. "The living room window will be right here." With the couch facing it and, since she was imagining best case scenarios, maybe a turian on the couch with her.

Garrus chuckled and put an arm around her shoulders, comrade-like. "It's a buyer's market. Not a bad view, either," he added, giving her a squeeze before releasing her.

Tali sighed heavily. "I'm coming with Shepard, you know."

"She won't ask you," Garrus noted.

"She doesn't have to." She hadn't asked Garrus, after all—he'd have jumped in. The same with Alenko and Liara, Shepard's engineers… "Like I said when this started—if I turn my back on this, what does it say about me?"

"I, for one, will be glad to have you."

Tali's stomach leapt up into her throat. "R-really?" she studied Garrus' profile, the sharp alien features, and wondered what it was that attracted her.

"Absolutely. More shotguns can only be a good thing."

Tali wanted to pop him over the back of the head, her hopes falling flat. "Absolutely," she agreed glumly. Then again, Garrus had always had this streak of obliviousness when it came to interpersonal interactions.

Garrus leaned over, ignoring the sunset in favor of putting his elbows on his knees and hunching over tiredly.

Haltingly, she reached out and patted his shoulder. "You look exhausted. Thanks for coming with me anyway."

Garrus' mandibles fluttered. "Any time." Then, uncertainly, "…are you sure you really want to leave this? I mean, you're an Admiral and your people need you."

"Maybe I'm not a very good quarian, then. I blame you for this," she answered, glad to find her tone had resumed its good humor. "Besides, it's not like the Reapers are going to ignore Rannoch forever. And you're right—if you're involved, definitely more shotguns."

"Ouch."

Tali chuckled, pulling her knees up, glad conversation had lightened, that he was talking with her instead of just listening. "It'll be weird, though. Quarians are used to carrying our homes around with us. Now…we don't have to."

Garrus reached across from her, picked up the rock she'd retrieved earlier, and held it out to her. "Here you go. Home carried with you."

Tali chuckled, accepting the rock and studying it. It was nothing more or less than a fragment of reddish sandstone…but it was home, and it could stay in the medbay with her. "You're the best, Garrus," she announced.

"I know."

Which earned him a dig in the armored ribs, a sore elbow for her, and a snicker from him before he put her in a kind of headlock—which felt a little too big-brotherly for her tastes. It also struck her that Garrus was not usually this physically expressive. From what she understood, turians generally weren't, not in public at least. "It's good to have the crew back together. Mostly."

Tali, knowing it was bold and knowing she could claim cultural misunderstanding, snaked an arm around his waist and tried to settle more comfortably. Garrus tensed then, after a pause as if to remind himself of cultural differences, loosened his headlock. "It is."