Running Silent:

Hard Work and Perseverance

…

An alternate ME3. Commander Shepard and her team are on the run from Cerberus and trying to make alliances before it's too late. In a galaxy with no reaper kill switch, how can they hope to defeat something so ancient and powerful? Their last hope is a desperate plan that may cost them everything. Shepard/Garrus, other side pairings.

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Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to Bioware.

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Garrus glanced up from his sleeping mother when he saw a shadow in the doorway. Castis Vakarian inclined his head towards his study, turning back with the expectation that his son would follow. Garrus reluctantly released his mother's hand. He had no intentions of antagonizing his father during this visit.

"Close the door," Castis commanded, looking severe behind his desk. He surveyed his son calmly as the younger turian sat across from him. "I've spoken to Fedorian."

Garrus stared, unblinking. "The primarch?"

Castis ignored his son's disbelief. "He has an opening tomorrow morning. You will present your evidence to him then."

Garrus's mandibles flared in shock and—though he was loath to admit it—fear. He'd met Fedorian before, but only socially, as a friend of his father's. To have a private audience with him was a different matter entirely.

He, Garrus Vakarian—former C-Sec officer, almost-Spectre, failed vigilante—had a meeting with the primarch of Palaven.

He supposed that, given all the things he had done and seen over the past few years, he shouldn't be so surprised. Nothing had been normal since Commander Shepard had walked up the council chamber steps and into his life.

Nonetheless, it was an intimidating prospect. Garrus had no illusions; this may well be his only chance to save his people. He had one chance to warn the primarch of what was to come. One chance to prove what he already knew. One chance to try to save his race from extinction.

Garrus deliberately calmed himself. He needed to keep a clear head and analyze the situation. Come up with a plan of attack. He looked at his father appraisingly. "You know him best," he said. "How do you suggest I go about this?"

He didn't miss the surprise that crossed his father's face, but he chose not to comment. There were more important things to discuss than their strained relationship. For now, it was enough to know that they had a truce.

For now, it was enough to know that someone believed.

…

Garrus left Primarch Fedorian's office feeling dejected. No one could blame him for hitting up the firing range before heading home.

He really did not want to face his father after such a disappointment.

Granted, his proposals hadn't been turned down. But they hadn't been accepted either, and Garrus was adept enough at reading people to guess at the result.

He did, eventually, have to go home and face his father. Castis had been utterly inscrutable and very nearly silent during his son's account of the meeting, only speaking to ask for more detail or clarification. Garrus hated that particular expression of his father's—it had often preceded harsh lectures and punishment in his childhood. Castis could hardly discipline him now, but the expression unsettled him nonetheless. He imagined that it had the same effect on those his father had interrogated back in his C-Sec days.

This time, there was no lecture. "Leave me," Castis said, and Garrus obeyed in confusion.

Castis had given no indication of his feelings on the matter, or whether he felt that Garrus had adequately done his part to convince the primarch. He'd offered no further plan, no sympathy—not that Garrus would have expected such—and no disappointment. He'd offered nothing at all.

Garrus paced around the house, unable to sit still. His mind raced with possibilities. Things he could have said. Things he could still do. He imagined himself bursting back into the primarch's office and demanding he take action. That was only fantasy, of course. Anyone who attempted to force themselves into the primarch's private offices would find themselves imprisoned and doing hard labor for a very long time.

When he paced past his father's study for the fourth or fifth time, he heard raised voices. He paused mid-step, inching closer to the door to listen. To his disappointment, he could make out none of the words spoken. Garrus wondered whether his father's conversation had anything to do with his earlier meeting. He couldn't decide whether he hoped it did or not.

He continued his pacing.

His father didn't emerge from his study until after Garrus had finally given in to sleep, but when Garrus rose in the morning, he had already received a note announcing his proposal's approval.

"What did you do?" he asked his father in amazement.

The older turian's eyes seemed almost amused. "I merely reminded Fedorian of a few things he ought to remember." He offered no more clarification, and Garrus didn't dare ask. Within another day he received the names of his task force, his budget, and express orders to keep their assignment classified. Even with that order in mind, Garrus was shocked to find he would report directly to the primarch himself.

But he had to acquaint himself with all those shocks rather quickly—after only three days, he stood in front of his new team, quaking in his boots. He had an insurmountable task in front of him. Preparing for the reaper invasion seemed impossible, even more so with their limited time and budget. He wondered if he could really accomplish anything with this group of strangers he only knew by dossier, but then he remembered the Normandy and Omega and was sure he would demand nothing less. He would make Shepard proud.

…

David Anderson had always been something of a father figure to Shepard.

She'd known him since her days in ICT, when she'd been working towards her N7. He'd run a couple of courses and tests, and somehow had ended up as her unofficial mentor. She came to the villa still full of anger and pain about her experience on Akuze. Forced leave hadn't lessened it, nor the psychiatrists sent to assess and rehabilitate her. She'd put up a good front, of course—she had become adept at it years before—but he had seen her pain for what it really was. He had found a way to reach her where others couldn't. She would never forget what Anderson had done for her, and that's why his declaration came as such a painful blow.

Shepard stared at his hologram, motionless. "You can't quit the council," she said flatly.

"You won't change my mind, Shepard. I'm as stubborn as you are," he reminded her.

She frowned at him, not dissuaded. She hated this idea with every fiber of her being. It was too dangerous… too everything. "But you're needed here," she argued.

"No," Anderson said, shaking his head. "Udina will be better at digging up aid when we need it. When the reapers arrive." He paused, a faraway look coming into his eyes. "I'm not a politician, Shepard. I'm a soldier. And when the reapers hit Earth, the people there are going to need help." He met her eyes with an unflinching gaze. "They're going to need leaders, and that's something I can do."

"Please don't," Shepard said quietly. He was going to get himself killed out there. He was the closest thing to a father that she'd had since her own was killed. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't bear it.

Anderson looked at her, and knew what she couldn't say. "We'll both do what we have to, Shepard," he said, but she wished, so selfishly, that it didn't have to be true.

…

Tali tried not to show her nervousness as she entered the office. "Thank you for seeing me, Admiral."

Admiral Koris motioned stiffly to the chair across the desk from him. "Considering what you're trying to do, I felt it was right."

Tali never felt like she could get a read on Koris. His body language was so much less expressive than most quarians—as if he'd retreated behind the helmet purposefully, hiding in a private sanctuary.

"Admiral," she began, "We have to find a way to stop this war." Her gloved fingers gripped the edge of the desk nervously.

"It was your father's work that made this possible, Tali," he said severely, pointing a finger at her. "If there's anything you can do to stop this slaughter, it's your duty to do it."

She shrank back slightly, unnerved by his sudden vitriol. His hand dropped, and he sighed. "I… apologize," he said, shaking his head. "While you have been away, Tali'Zorah, I have been fighting this battle alone."

She looked down at her hands, full of guilt. "I know, Admiral," she said quietly. "Which is why we need to do this together."

"Yes," he responded in measured tones. "We will do this together." He nodded, beginning their uncomfortable alliance, their truce. "Now, Tali," he began again, "I would like you to tell me everything you know about the geth."

She hadn't told anyone how she knew that the geth weren't hostile to them. She hadn't told anyone about Legion or the heretics or any of the true reasons she knew what she did. They'd have called her crazy, sent her away, ignored every word she said. She could be called worse than a traitor.

But, sitting in front of Admiral Koris, it all came rushing out. He, someone she'd thought to be an enemy, may have been the only person in the fleet to whom she could admit that she now counted a geth among her crew and perhaps even friends. And he, of all people, listened to every word she had to say.

She wondered how many others she had misjudged as badly.

…

Garrus set down his drink as his omni-tool chimed, and hid his smile as he saw the message from Shepard.

Garrus, you glorious bastard! You've already accomplished more than I ever managed. Keep up the good work. You didn't say anything about your family in your message. Hope your mom's doing okay and the rest of you are being civil to each other!

Doing a favor for Hackett. Details are classified, but if I get lucky, I'll have some more evidence for us. Can't wait to have you back on the Normandy. It's not the same without you on my six.

He glanced up to see Solana watching him curiously, and he hurriedly closed down the omni-tool. "Just a message from my team," he said offhandedly, hoping she wouldn't question him further.

"Are you ever not working, Garrus?" Solana asked in exasperation. "Don't the humans have some expression about not mixing business with pleasure?"

Garrus laughed. "If I didn't mix the two, I doubt there would be time for pleasure."

His sister frowned. "You should consider taking breaks on occasion, you know. The galaxy won't fall apart without you."

Garrus didn't scoff out loud, but privately he had no desire to test that statement.

"Seriously, when was the last time you took a vacation from work?" Solana pressed. "I've barely seen you since you first left for C-Sec."

Garrus thought back. It was true he had rarely taken vacation time at C-Sec—as a new officer, he'd felt the need to prove himself. While his first tour with Shepard was technically a leave of absence, he'd worked harder on the Normandy than he had on the Citadel. After the battle, C-Sec had practically begged him back, putting him to work immediately. He'd had tentative plans to take a few days off when the Normandy returned from the Terminus systems, but the Normandy hadn't returned. His turmoil had led him to Omega, and from there it had been nonstop. Omega and Archangel to the Normandy and Shepard. And now, on Palaven, the closest thing to a vacation he'd had in years, and he was still working.

"Garrus?"

He snapped out of his reverie to see his sister staring at him in worry. "Sorry," he said. "Just thinking."

She watched him carefully for a few silent minutes. "Will you tell me, Garrus?"

His heart began to pound, but he forced himself to speak, hoping she wasn't asking what he thought she was. "Tell you what?"

"Where you've been," she said. "What you're doing." Her subvocals wavered. "I know it's dangerous. Please don't keep this from me."

Garrus drained the last of the whiskey in his glass. "We can't talk here."

"We'll go home, then," she said.

"Yeah." Garrus sighed, dreading the discussion before him. "And have a few more drinks."

…

Solana Vakarian stared, her blue eyes never wavering from her brother's matching ones. "Dad believes this," she said skeptically.

"Yeah," Garrus affirmed. He didn't want to push her—he knew it was hard to stomach. But she'd been the one who figured him out in the first place. She was the only one who realized he had something to hide, that he'd been protecting her. By the time the Normandy passed through the Omega 4 relay, she had already known there was something more going on. She just didn't know what.

He spoke up again. "That's what all the meetings have been about, Sol. The primarch's given me the task force to work on these things. To prepare."

Garrus could see the struggle within her. She didn't want to believe it. No one did. But she knew as well as he did that their father never would have taken it to the primarch if he wasn't sure.

"You're right," she said with a shaky laugh. "I do need another drink."

Garrus looked down at his hands where they rested on the edge of the table. "I'm sorry, Sol."

She laughed again, bitterly this time. "I was angry at you for not being home to help with Mom," she admitted. "And you were out saving the galaxy." She shook her head. "I still want to be angry at you," she confessed.

Garrus shrugged. "That's fair," he said quietly, looking down again. He was still torn, himself. He'd been neglecting the responsibility he had to his family, first out of anger and sadness, then to follow Shepard into a mission that could have killed him without them ever knowing.

"No it's not," Solana replied, reaching out a hand to cover his. He looked up at her, and grim determination had filled her eyes. "I'm going to find a way to help you," she insisted.

Garrus shook his head. "You don't have to do that, Sol."

"Too bad," she replied, in that tone that was so like their mother's. "You're stuck with me."

…

Shepard was actually looking forward to breaking Doctor Kenson out of the batarian prison.

She'd felt the effects of being cooped up on the Normandy with nothing to fight. Granted, this mission was all about stealth and recon, but it excited her nonetheless. She grinned as she put on her armor, already feeling the adrenaline flowing through her veins.

She was hoping to find an in with the Alliance, and this favor for Hackett might be it. Hackett would owe her—and, better than that, he'd suggested that Doctor Kenson had found irrefutable proof of the impending reaper invasion. If she got the evidence, she could do better than just the Alliance.

With adrenaline pumping, she climbed into the shuttle. This mission could be the key to everything.

…

Miranda walked into the cockpit of the Normandy with her usual confident stride despite the anxiety that knotted in her stomach. She surveyed the view through the windows. There wasn't much to see, not from the distance Shepard had ordered them to retreat to.

"Anything from the commander?" she asked Joker.

The pilot shrugged. "Still nothing since the shuttle." He tugged at the bill of his SR-2 cap, a nervous habit she had noted upon their first meeting. She took a closer look at him, cataloguing the obvious signs of lack of sleep. He was more concerned than he let on.

Miranda paced behind him as the twisting in her gut worsened. "I don't like this," she stated. "We didn't have enough intel to begin with."

"Tell me about it," Joker muttered quietly.

EDI spoke up. "Are you worried, Jeff?"

Joker glanced at her blue interface. If he were anyone else, he'd glare. "Not the time for an interview, EDI," he snarked.

Miranda kept pacing. "How long has it been?"

EDI chimed in again. "Forty-six hours and seventeen minutes, XO Lawson."

She sighed, agitated. "Let me know the moment you hear anything," she ordered, and left the cockpit without waiting for an answer.

Miranda hardly got any work done during the following hours, not until she heard the words she'd been waiting for. "Miranda," came Joker's harried voice from the cockpit, "Shepard called and we're going in."

"Thank you," she replied, and let herself smile in relief.

That relief didn't last long.

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A/N: Apologies for the delay! This story isn't abandoned, but I find it hard to post when inspiration isn't striking me. Thanks to those who shared their opinion last chapter about EDI's future. As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think!