The dark and quiet settled around Garrus, a massive, ephemeral leviathan that swallowed him whole. Laying back in an armchair in the darkest corner of the common room, he stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle, and cushioned his head in his hands. His eyes slipped closed, the steady mechanical whirr and thump-thump of the building's heartbeat coaxing him toward sleep.
He pushed himself away from the precipice and the siren call of the peace and rest awaiting him in Shepard's arms. He needed to stay awake, as much as he ached to hear her voice, to feel the cool softness of her kisses, her body pressed against his. After a long, frustrating day filled with putting out endless fires, falling asleep felt like going home.
His people teased him from time to time about having a wife closeted away somewhere, their guesses ranging from Aria; to Garm, Omega's Blood Pack Leader; to a particularly heart-wrenchingly ridiculous tale Monteague wove one night about the forbidden union of Garrus and Councillor Tevos. When they pushed, he just laughed and shook his head, refusing to give up that most private and cherished center of his life.
Shepard belonged to him—his bright, solid anchor of sanity—and he never intended to share that. The universe seemed set to devour him whole, needing so much from him, demanding so much of him. Surely, it wouldn't deny him a single place to just set everything aside.
Dragging his thoughts back to his current circumstance, he sifted through the layers of sound and presence surrounding him, searching for the slightest clue that their thieves planned to make a move. After a moment, he relaxed. No change. His cloaked friend still lingered on a couch a few meters away, his position given away by the slightest nasal rasp when he breathed. Garrus winced as he recalled Shepard making the same noise. Well, she made the same noise for a few seconds before the deafening snoring began.
The other half of the thieving duo had yet to make an appearance. No doubt waiting for those watching over the painting to grow weary and fall asleep. Garrus stretched and melted a little further into his chair. Might as well take advantage of the lull. As he let his mind drift, the building's music eased him toward the shoreline until finally, the leviathan dove into the depths, carrying him away.
"Bloody fucking hell!" Zaeed's shout shattered sleep's hold, loud enough to make Garrus's head ring.
The general jumped straight up, a hand flying up to block the searingly bright light beaming straight into his face as all the lights switched on. It took him half a second to orient himself as bodies raced around above his head.
"It's bloody gone," the merc shouted, his raspy roar bouncing off the walls until it seemed to come from everywhere. "How the … ?"
"Everyone stop!" Garrus shouted, breaking through the cacophony. His people froze. "Melanis, get a stasis field over the main door. Krul lock down the elevator then block the stairs with Zaeed. Martin, Vortash, Sidonis, Monteague cover the windows up there." He strode over to the section of blank wall.
Eyes narrowed, he turned to scan the floor, the only trail through the EM trips tracked from his chair to where he stood. The stairs remained undisturbed as well. Looking up, he stepped right up to the wall and reached out, his palm brushing against paint and canvas.
"How the bloody hell did they get it out of here?" Zaeed hollered, fuming as he paced back and forth across the top of the stairs. "What about your grand plan, General?"
"They didn't get it out." Garrus nodded and cocked an eyebrow at the merc. "It's still right here. They just cloaked it so that we'd run around like crazy people searching while they lifted it off the wall and walked out." He grinned and looked up. "It's been five hours. Are you getting tired of hanging up there?" he asked. When he didn't get an answer, he pulled his sidearm. After making sure he had the training mod installed, he aimed it toward the ceiling. "I'll give you to the count of three to show yourself."
"One." As he counted, Garrus traced the thief's plan. She obviously didn't intend to touch the floor, so that meant monofilament line from the painting to the door and a pulley rig. "Two." Since the painting remained on the wall, she was no doubt at ceiling height right above it.
"Three." He fired a metre to the right, then a metre wide the other way. Nothing. "Those were a fair warning. I know where you are, and I won't be missing the next time. Show yourself."
Nothing.
He aimed dead center and fired. The shot impacted a half metre short of the ceiling, but to the thief's credit, she didn't make a sound.
"Stop!" The air above the suspect couch shimmered, a man appearing, standing on the leather seat. "I give up. Just stop. You shot her!"
Garrus nodded. "Yes, I did. She was given far more warning than most would offer in my position." He gestured with the pistol. "Step down, son." He waited until the young man did as he was told. "Keiji Okuda?" Holding the human with a narrow-eyed stare, Garrus pointed toward the ceiling with his pistol. "That would mean it's the infamous Miss Goto hanging up there, nursing a painful bruise?"
A soft grunt of affirmation answered him as Keiji looked down at the floor.
As he looked up, a rumbling sigh rolled from Garrus's throat, heavy with rapidly failing patience. Some people did not know when to admit defeat. "Come down. Jondum Bau will be here in three hours to take you both into custody unless we arrive at some sort of alternative arrangement. You're wasting your short and valuable freedom."
Still nothing. Movements stiff, he aimed his pistol at the same spot. "The gun might not be lethal, Miss Goto, but I'm not above shooting you until you're good and damned sore." Grudging admiration for her stubbornness and toughness made his mandibles twitch, but still, he squeezed the trigger. Precious time trickled away as she played her little game of denial.
"All right. All right," a husky, lilting voice snapped, annoyed and hard … anything but defeated, or even subdued. A lithe, female human figure appeared just below the ceiling. One hand held her pulley control, while the other pressed against her hip. "That hurt."
Garrus hid a smile at the thief's indignant tone and crooked a beckoning talon, then pointed to the floor. "It's supposed to hurt." He hung his sidearm back on his hip. "Come down from there, so we can talk." When she made no move to do as he said, he snapped the pistol from his hip and shot her in the same spot. "I've reached the end of my patience. Come down, Miss Goto, or I'll simply have you both held in stasis awaiting Spectre Bau's arrival."
The thief squawked as the third round hit, but then activated the pulley and lowered herself to the floor. Grumbling to herself, she pulled the monofilament line through her harness. "It's your own fault," she said, throwing the bundle of cord on the floor. "Five hundred million credit painting hanging out in the middle of Omega. Of course someone's going to steal it."
Garrus nodded and pointed to the couch where her partner stood. "Take a seat." As he moved to sit across from them, he couldn't help but shoot a smirk over his shoulder at the indignant, cussing merc at the top of the stairs. Waiting for her to sit down, he watched them both intently. Goto, as Bau's information indicated, clearly ran the duo. Keiji quailed as she glided past him, shoulders and spine bristled, all angles and points despite the fluidity of her movement.
"Seriously, General?" the thief asked, her lips twitching in a crooked smile under the hood. "Micro-trips? In a building like this, who needs to touch the floor?" She shook her head as if she expected better. Broadcasting ease and a cocky confidence, she seated herself and crossed her legs at the knee, hands neatly folded in her lap.
"Nice counter-move," Garrus replied, choking down the urge to point out that she remained quite caught. He sat, shifting to the back of the seat, posture rigid.
She smiled. "You never expected the trips or your little ambush to work." Nodding once, she continued, "Nice counter-move, yourself." Looking around, she seemed to either be buying for time or looking for a way out. "So, why are we talking, General?"
Garrus shook his head and leaned back. "I'm sure you've been here long enough to know what Archangel is about, Miss Goto." He stared into her eyes, watching the calculations and formulas whipping around behind the scenes like a massive, complicated network of gears. Nothing that gave him any clue as to whether she could be persuaded showed itself. "We could use people with your infiltration skills."
Shifting a little, she pushed herself up in the seat and refolded her hands, ordering herself very precisely. "I'm a thief, General, not a spy. You'd be asking us to risk our lives for your worthy cause, but what could possibly be in it for us? Stealing secrets is only profitable if you can sell them." A quick shake of her head discarded the idea. "I'll take my chances with Bau and the courts."
Garrus chuckled, admiring her poker face. "Professionals are all about the game, Miss Goto. The prize isn't the object; it's cracking the uncrackable safe, getting into the impenetrable room. I've met a few of your kind over the cycles." His hands lifted to forestall her argument. "Although none to compare with your record or skill." Leaning forward, Garrus braced against the arms of the chair. "And this would be the most intense, most challenging game of your life. Even your prodigious skills will be pushed to their limits and beyond." He saw the gears behind those eyes speed up, looking for his angle. " Yes, the missions will be very high risk, but I'd arrange for the rewards to more than compensate you."
A single flick of one mandible met the tick of appreciation that tugged at the corner of her mouth. He pushed a little harder. "You'd be infiltrating locations controlled by our enemies, so I see no problem with you relieving them of any valuables you might find." Stiffening, he added a low roll of thunder to his voice. "Providing such procurements don't risk the larger mission."
"You'd give us free rein to steal?" Doubt cast shadows over what little of her face he could see. "No kickbacks? No constant threat of being turned over to Bau?" A powdery laugh drifted out. "No offense, General, but I can't see a single reason to trust you."
Garrus shrugged. "I've given you no reason to distrust me. If you join Archangel and use your talents for the betterment of the galaxy, the organization will shelter and protect you. We'll make sure you both have solid cover ID's, and you can base yourself out of these headquarters. You won't be freelance, no jobs outside the assignments I give you, and you'll be required to go on missions as I see fit." He let out a long breath, talons clasping in front of him. "This isn't a job offer, Miss Goto, it's a sentence that allows you to continue working at what you do best."
A mischievous smile flitted across the woman's face, her eyes cutting across at her partner. "So you'd have us turn Robin Hood?" She laughed, that one coming off genuine as she looked around her at the suspicious faces of his senior staff. "Your men don't look all that merry, General."
"Probably because someone has been lurking inside our home, taking advantage of our trust while they plotted to steal from us." Reminding himself to ask about Robin Hood later, Garrus tilted his head, studying her and her silent partner for tells. As cool as she tried to come across, he could see that being caught had thrown her off, as he'd hoped. The young man still looked rattled by Garrus shooting his partner. Rattled and angry. Garrus nodded. He could use both reactions.
Pushing himself up out of his seat, he said, "For tonight, you can both sleep up in 'Susan from accounting's' quarters under guard. When Bau arrives, we'll put him up for the rest of the night as well."
He stepped forward, towering over the seated thieves. "Tomorrow I leave for Rannoch. I'm expecting trouble, so if you decide you'd prefer working with me over going to prison, I'll expect Miss Goto to be ready to ship out at 0630." He looked at Keiji. "You'll stay behind to help my people seal up our electronic security breaches. If you choose not to join us, Bau will take custody of you at that time."
Crooking a finger to his people, he beckoned them down. "Please see our guests to their quarters and keep them under heavy guard." Pivoting on his talons, he strode to the wall and lifted the still-cloaked Winter Garden from its hanger. "This will be leaving for our main vault as planned. Goodnight, Miss Goto … Mr. Okuda."
Without so much as glancing back, Garrus jogged up the stairs and entered his room, locking and encoding the door behind him.
"Did I give them enough incentive?" he whispered to the dim shadows. "Staying any longer seemed too much like begging, but … ." Stepping up next to the couch, he started snapping the seals on his armour. He never knew how Shepard did it. The woman had a gift for knowing just how far to push someone, and just the right buttons to tweak. They might want to punch her in the face by the time she finished, but she always learned what she needed to know, and always found a way to swing the relationship back around to something productive.
Once free of his armour, he considered a shower for about twenty seconds before climbing into bed. A glance at his chrono confirmed that he was already three hours late getting home. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath, sinking down into the mattress. Sleep reached up eagerly, dragging him down into its grip.
A forest surrounded him on all sides. Garrus stumbled a couple of steps, completely disoriented. Turning in loose, lurching circles, he nearly fell to one knee, finally reaching out to catch himself against one of the dry, chalky trunks. Fear and confusion shoved back and forth, fighting for dominance.
"Where am I?" he called out, but only the echo of his own words replied. "Shepard?" He set out toward what appeared to be a break in the trees. Low bushes wrapped around his legs, leafy adversaries trying to hold him back, but from what? Where the hell was he? He'd never even seen a forest like the one around him with its white-trunked, broad-leafed trees. Reaching out, he tore a leaf from the branch, its texture impossibly thin and delicate between his talons.
Above him, the sky darkened as if responding to his mood, pressing down on him with the impending threat of a storm. In the distance, thunder slammed through the sky, rippling through the clouds. Impossible. All of it amounted to something both unnatural and impossible, at least from his perspective.
"Not my dream?" he muttered aloud. "But … ." The fear from earlier exploded in his gut, an incendiary grenade blasting shards of searing dread through his entire being. Shepard. Somehow, the strange place, the impossible storm, it was all about her. He sped up, jogging a few steps until another clap of thunder tore through the air, sending the clouds scuttling ahead of a solid, steel-coloured, wall of water.
Garrus bolted. As surely as he'd ever known anything, he knew that he needed to reach Shepard before the rain did. "Shepard?" he yelled, barely able to hear himself over the coming storm. "Shepard! Where are you?"
A slight lightening a hundred or so metres ahead gave him a target. Leaping over fallen trees and thick brambles, he raced toward what he hoped was open ground, his gaze drawn back to the approaching wall of water. If it reached her before he did, he just knew he'd never see her again. The fear ripened to an unreasonable panic, splitting open to spill out its rotten fruit. He couldn't do it. He couldn't keep going without her arms to return to every night.
One moment, the trees pressed thick and implacable, surrounding him on all sides, the next, he ran out into open meadowland. Tall, wispy grass laid down before the wind, sweeping low above a thicker carpet of green. Maybe ten metres away, Shepard sat on the ground, her back to him, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. It took him a moment to realize that he could see through her, the grass blowing in front of her showing through her translucent form.
"Shepard?" He stopped, hesitating when she didn't acknowledge his call. "Shepard?" Looking up to see the storm crashing down, almost directly overhead, he extended his hand. "Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Her entire body undulated with a long, heavy sigh. "It's time, Garrus," she said, her voice flat and slick, plastic words from a puppet's mouth.
Stumbling forward two steps, he flexed his talons, as if he could will her hand into his. "What do you mean, Shepard? Time for what?"
Arms and legs unfolding like the petals of a flower opening to catch the rain, Shepard stood and turned to face him. Her lips lifted into a smile, but it didn't touch the rest of her face. "Time for you to stop living in here, Garrus. There's no future with me in this shadow of life. Time for you to let me go and start looking toward the future."
"No, Shepard. You know I don't want that." He leaped forward, snatching at her. "Stay with me, please. I need you."
The rain slammed down on them like a giant hand from the sky, nearly driving Garrus into the ground. He staggered and managed to regain his balance. Shepard merely looked up, a mild expression of surprise on her face.
Water streamed over her skin, first blurring her features, then slowly erasing them. "I love you, Garrus Vakarian. We'll meet again." She held out her hand, delicate digits trembling. "Good-bye."
"Shepard?" Garrus grabbed her hand, but his talons just passed straight through as she continued to fade, her sad smile and outstretched fingers disappearing last.
One left behind certain moments when they left behind life—all the silly grudges and embarrassments. One also left behind disappointments because they stopped mattering about a second after they occurred.
One left behind hope. Losing the pull of that tingly hook of sunshine rooted in good and deep behind your heart, hurt and it hurt bad. But what use is a hook that pulls you forward by promising better days ahead when the days have run out?
One carried along certain things as well, naturally. Sadness softly faded from loss, and joy saturated the cherished.
Only one thing called out from the darkness, and it wasn't fear, need, or any great cause, which was surprising, frankly. Damned surprising.
No, only one regret persisted past the veil, a single hopeless ember burning in the vacuum that consisted of three simple words. Words that could have brought him joy. Words that remained jealousy and fearfully guarded instead of being shared.
Yeah, that one rated a twelve.