I'm gonna say, the reviews I got for the second chapter of this story are the post reviews I've gotten for one chapter in a very long time. Cheers for that, glad to see I am still capable of making stuff worthy of that kind of response. XD

(– 0 –)

(Garrus Vakarian – Citadel – Human Embassy)

The door hissed softly as the panel split apart and receded into the wall perfectly, though Garrus didn't pay it any mind as his eyes focussed on the new councillor for humanity. He felt his hands tighten as the talons curled into fists, anger brimming as much as his emotion was driving his actions. He kept an eye on Anderson as he looked up in slight surprise, well hidden behind a raised eyebrow.

He looked around, noticing nothing out of place, nothing awry or even slightly off. Normally, it would have comforted him, knowing that this man was just as normal as he was. But he only felt the same rage boil his blood as it had when he found out the news.

"You have some nerve, 'Councillor'." He leaned over the desk, boring into the ex-captains eyes, watching as the surprise went to mild dissatisfaction.

'Good...' He thought, taking slight pride in that small, unnoticeable feat.

"Vakarian?" Was all he said in response for a few moments, staring back into the Turians eyes with a shocking amount of hardness. "I take it you have a better reason to be here other than to take pot-shots at me?"

"You tell me." Garrus growled back, reaching behind his person, hiding a small smirk at the sudden tensing of Anderson's jaw. But before anything could be done, he pulled out his PDA and tossed it onto the desk separating him from the human. He watched as Anderson reached out, picking the tablet up and skimming through the article, his eyes becoming more tired as he did so.

"Well, nothing to say? Nothing about this… crap?"

Anderson sighed, dropping the tablet and looking down, head falling into his hands. "What is it you want me to say, Vakarian? This was out of my control and you know it."

"I am sure..." The Turian placed his hands on the desk, glaring as he leaned in, he could see Anderson's face but it was clear that whatever the man felt was hidden well enough. "But Shepard was – for all intents and purposes – Your protege… Yes, now you look up. I've done my homework, councillor."

"I'll let that slide this time, only because I understand what your going through, but I will remind you of who I am, just incase you forgot to do that little tid-bit of 'homework'." The councillor's tired eyes stared back, his frame hunched and frail, as if he had been put through the wringer. Garrus found himself involuntarily backing away from the man, away from the desk and standing straighter than he had before he had come in.

"I am the man who has been by John and Jane's side for years upon years. I was the man who rescued them from a fate of terror on Mindoir. I have more medals than you have years under your belt and more experience than even a good portion of your generals." The ex-Captain glared, his tone scornful. "I watched those two grow from terrified little kids to outstanding soldiers, outstanding people. They had their own problems, but they both became model citizens and i'd believe them over the other councillors any day of the week."

"The why'd you let them take a crap all over Jane's memory!?" The Turian couldn't let this slide, no matter how painful this must be be for the human before him.

"Because it was a 3 – 1 vote!"

Anything Garrus could have said escaped him in that moment. For the first time, he registered the fully uncovered feelings and expressions David Anderson was in battle with. His previously steely look corroded into helplessness. A look that didn't look in any way belonging on such an esteemed man. A face that could only be expressed by man when he truly had little to no control left.

The man – for the first time since Garrus had known him – began to show massive signs of wear and tear.

"The only thing I can do is keep pushing the facts any chance I get. But the council are running scared." He shook his head as a heavy sigh bellowed from the slight gap between gap between his lips. "Sovereign is nightmare stuff, brutal. A part of me understands why they are so desperate to bury their heads in the sand. But all I can do is hat i'm doing now, pushing the alliance to commission more ships, frigates, dreadnoughts, whatever they can squeeze out from the treaties the council have on us."

"But that is the only thing I can do, and even in that area I am getting little progress made..." He finished, his voice going from a thundering clap to a pathetically quiet whisper of defeat. "Backroom politics really was my kryptonite..."

Nothing else was said, but nothing had changed either. Garrus still felt that uncomfortable anger at the man, even though he was clearly out of his depth on this issue. Jane's memory was still being tarnished and ignored as they dared still use her image on recruitment posters. Nothing had truly changed, the mission of stopping Saren really hadn't done anything but bring out the true colours of the council.

And if all that he and his friends had been through didn't change anything on the citadel, then what could?

The question floated around In the Turian's head, refusing to leave his brain like a bad memory. Hell, even he and John barely changed anything, crime still occurred commonly in the wards and now he was just one man. John would never be able to help him again…

"I've heard enough… Goodbye, Anderson."

He gave the damaged man one last look, taking in the defeat and the horrible reality that he had been saddled with before turning around and removing himself from the office.

He couldn't be there anymore… He couldn't stay here anymore, not when everything was so irreparably broken and corrupt. Too many bad things stayed with him here, not enough good things to balance the bad in contrast, not enough to give him that naive hope which kept him going for so long in C-sec.

The shadows fell upon him, looking around he realised where he was. In his apartment, near the bedroom where he kept most of his most precious belongings. It wasn't big, smaller than the living room but bigger than the bathroom. How he ended up here without his knowledge never occurred to him, he just wanted out.

Grabbing his credit chit, he got up and looked around for his trusty sniper rifle, finding it leaning against the wall of his living room. How long he'd have the shitty weapon was an unknown to him. But it was a present from John after there first year as partners in 'non-crime' as he called it.

"I'm sorry, John…" He whispered, his mandibles clenching to his face in regret. "This… This is for the best, for you and me."

With his final elegy to his best friend said and done, Garrus Vakarian flicked the light switch off and walked over to the door behind him, giving the room one last pitiful look before walking out. Engulfing the apartment in blackness...

(– 0 –)

(John Shepard – Citadel – Hospital Ward)

- 1 Month Later -

He didn't know how to feel, not that he did much of that anymore…

Was it even worth it, reacting to anything the world threw at him? It had already taken so much away without giving him any reason to hope. Too long has it threw him under the dreadnought's hull for him to care any longer. The time he had even ave a shit about anything was when Garrus had visited a month back, but even then he hadn't been back since. Hell, he had only found out where his friends are when Anderson – like the true friend he was – chose to tell him.

They had all gone, left him alone… Like some garbage left to rot…

He remembered trying to feel something at this news, only for the pure shock to freeze his emotions at the time.

Though if they had been unfrozen, he certainly didn't know… Nor could he find it within himself to care anymore.

His life had been sitting in hell's waiting room for so long now. He knew exactly how many little dots were on his bandages…

Bandages that were meant to be coming off today…

A sudden, violent cough erupted from his cracked lips, sending a few more flecks of blood onto his mummified body. He grunted painfully, looking down on the numerous stains from the same cursed action that had accumulated over the month's progression. They covered the top of where his chest should be, all different shades of red, some more brown from just how long it had been. The nurses working on him couldn't change the bandages, not whilst he was still in constant agony from just living.

It was horrible, the burning had subsided but the pain still persisted. Whenever he moved it would flare up like a bad rash, his body would freeze for a second before calming again, his previous action forgotten about in fear of evoking his bodies wrath yet again.

The bandages would likely be coming off in a few minutes, he would finally see what he'd become. What he had been turned into…

He knew enough, his body would likely give up on him in two years time, the pain would continue regardless of treatment and his muscles would deteriorate regardless of the amount of exercise he did. His future was lost, nothing left to be alive for, nothing to look forward to and even less to give it worth.

Even if he didn't look too scarred, his live was worthless now. For all intents and purposes, he'd rather have died on the Normandy…

At least he'd be with his sister, his little sister who could do no malicious harm to anything that didn't deserve it.

"Fuck..." He croaked, frustrated at his lack of tears. Yet another thing he'd never do again, his tear ducts were ruined and he was stuck feeling the effects of his emotions without having the ability to release any of it.

'What did I do to deserve this?' He could only ask, knowing that no miraculous answer would be coming. But it was unfair, what had he done wrong?

"Mr. Shepard?"

That sounded wrong… He wasn't worthy of a 'Mr' anymore…

He looked up, surprise at not noticing the nurse enter. A Turian with bright green face paint on his mandibles and brow plates. He watched as a few others entered, along with Anderson. He felt comfort, knowing that at least he would be there to see the monster he was now…

But even then… John hoped against everything that he didn't bare anything worse than a few scars and burns…

"Yeah..." He whispered, trying not to irritate his pathetic throat anymore than it already was.

The nurse looked at the others, getting nods before looking back.

"Well, today we get to rid you of those bandages. So you can at least move properly after today." He declared, mandibles flaring out a little. "And after that, you will finally be out of this damn room. So, congratulations on your recovery!"

"Hmm…" John wheezed, unconcerned about the lack of excitement he should be feeling. "Let's get this over with, then."

He began to slowly bring himself to the side of the bed, holding in a groan at the pain that rocketed through his body with each miniscule movement. He was grateful when Anderson came over and helped him up, it eased the pain a little now that he wasn't straining as hard as he had been beforehand.

That was when he saw the small mirror in the nurses talons. Likely to give him so he could see what was left of his face… Fear began to rise slowly, so slowly that he was barely aware of it at first…

But as the doctors and nurses began to unwrap the restrictive material from his being, slowly feeling his body being exposed to the outside world after so long, he began to panic. He didn't know what awaited him. But as he saw the faces of everyone in the room, Anderson looking slightly horrified and the nurses wincing and giving him pitying looks when they thought he wasn't looking…

They finally got to his head, and he had long since stopped looking down, he had caught a glimpse of his feet and he only wanted to believe that only they were going to look like scarred, messy abominations…

Then the faces wrappings began to loosen, before they fell off completely…

"Oh god..." He heard Anderson breathe out…

"What?" He said, looking at them, watching as some of the less professional among them took a step away…

'Oh no… please don't as bad as they're making it out to be...'

"Here, son." Anderson's wavering voice snapped him out of his intrusive thoughts before they began, handing him the mirror from the Turian nurses hand.

John sighed lightly, steeling himself. Did he really want to look down into the mirror? He had been waiting for this moment since he had been told of his afflictions. He wanted this over with, but now that the thing that would answer his question was in his hands… He felt hesitant…

But he knew that he had to do this… for himself if not anyone else…

He looked down…

A gasp…

The sound of glass breaking…

The feeling of disgust, sorrow and fear overcame him…

Then after he started to hear the voices beyond his vision, he blacked out…

(– 0 –)

Cliffy….

This is the shortest chapter i've made. But i feel that this is the best place to leave it for next chapter. Sorry if it isn't as long as you probably wanted...