Death. That's what seemed to wait for them.
But the fate of the galaxy rested upon them. He could feel it, like an unknowable pull tugging his gut. A feeling that had grown exponentially in both vigour and sourness within the last few years. As many turians did, he believed himself less of a "separate entity" from the world, as some carbon-based life forms seemed to, and more of a force within it.
It made following his gut a crucial part of his life's decisions, but also gave him feelings of doubt when his instincts seemed to go against all the turians around him, and the orders being given by superiors.
Still, he'd learned to trust it. His confidence in this 'pull' grew by experience. This meant that as he'd matured he'd developed a relatively easy ability to change his life in a moment's notice, even when it meant taking paths no one else followed.
This was by far the most certain pull he'd felt, though. The pull to stand at Shepard's side, facing mortality in the full extent of its magnitude.
As had been instilled at him from a young age, you keep going in life, no matter what. You always put the big picture before your own chaotic mind. He'd had a good life – a sometimes lonely one, with things many times going sideways. But one full of excitement. He considered himself incredibly lucky to have met the characters he had.
He knew his time within the Normandy was the fullest, and most dangerous he would ever have. The pull to be there was greater than anything he'd felt, despite the dangers. Those dangers kept his eyes sharp, his aim lethal and his voice humorous. Never before had he felt so alive, when constantly squaring up to possible death. Finally he felt more turian than he ever had – that bone deep urge to protect and serve – yet also more of an individual, too. No other turian was standing where he stood, at the galaxy's front line, surrounded by the most diverse lives.
The mission to stop Saren was just the start. His gut had known it at the time, but his mind didn't quite believe it. "How could things get any crazier than this?" he would ask, as they raced around the galaxy so fast he didn't even have time to think. At that time, he was simply revelling in the purpose the mission brought him in comparison to his long, frustrating days at C-Sec. Since then, their mission had grown exponentially more important and seemingly impossible.
How in the flying vorcha do you convince an entire galaxy of life that their very existence is under threat? And more to the point, to stand and fight something so incomprehensibly large? But the impossibility of their task only motivated him more. 'If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself' Shepard would say, and he agreed.
That's how Shepard found him that night. He generally tried to immerse himself in work as much as possible, knowing he was the best at technical logistics and calibrating the Thanix's algorithms so she'd fire as smoothly as possible. When his brain simply wouldn't let him compute anything any longer, he'd push himself to socialise with the others despite being tired. He knew there was so much he could learn from these guys – plus, he was actually starting to like them. On Turian ships, and even back on Palaven, everyone had to be orderly and disciplined. Personality always came second to work. But on the Normandy, personality seemed to aid their work. In fact, Shepard would encourage everyone to express themselves as openly as possible; he'd never felt so much freedom within a team. This bonded them so tightly together, which he realised was essential if any of them were going to come out of this alive.
Tonight, though, emotions were churning through him. He had quietly removed himself from any social groups, exiting the crew deck and veering off to gaze at the stars from the Starboard Observation Deck. That's where Shepard found him.
He turned when he heard the soft door swish, and their eyes met.
Garrus felt like a kid around Shepard sometimes.
He was always rebellious within his family. He never meant to cause trouble, but he could just never keep his mouth shut and follow orders he didn't agree with. All his life he felt like he'd had to fight his corner. It had been draining both for himself and his family, and he'd often cursed himself for feeling like he made life difficult for everyone.
With Shepard, though, he felt calm. Confident and free in a way he never had been, yet simultaneously nervous. She could read him like no other. She could see through to the vulnerabilities he kept hidden… even from himself.
He quickly dropped his gaze, before Shepard could feel the pain within him. He had been staring at the stars for quite a while, unmoving, contemplating the uncertainty of their future. The possible loss of everything they had ever loved. The pain of his lost team lingered within him, and if turians had tear ducts, he was sure he would be crying.
Shepard could always sense his emotions. He'd never known anybody to be so skilled and brave in battle, yet so skilled with people, too. She approached him quietly, and stared up into the galaxy beside him.
He could feel the turmoil of emotions churning within him, unusual for him. He generally could keep himself quite calm, but tonight he could hear his heartbeat thrumming through his chest. It felt heavy and painful. With his tension building, he snuck a glance sideways at her. Wondering if she could feel the sad energy humming inside him. He didn't know why, but some instinct wanted to lean into her, wanted to press himself into her neck, wanted …needed… her comfort.
Instead he sighed, and turned away. Walking to the sofa, he set his head back and closed his eyes.