69 Days ASR 0910 hours (Weyrloc Base, Tuchanka)

Despite being ninety-nine percent sure of why the krogan signatures on the other side of the door hadn't changed, Shepard's gut still lurched hard when she opened the door to a macabre glut of madness, violence, and gore. As much as she'd wanted to free Urdnot's females, and as much as she hated the Blood Pack, no one deserved what those orbs had inflicted on Weyrloc.

"Sweet baby Jesus, protect us," she whispered. Glancing toward Mordin before walking over to where a vorcha clawed its way across the floor by its one remaining limb, she asked, "What is this? Do you think the combination of reaper and suzerain indoctrination signals drove them insane?" The vorcha looked up at her and snarled, the sound a plea to kill him.

"I'm sorry." Blinking back a sudden, empathetic burning in the corners of her eyes, she swallowed hard. "But I can end your pain." She pulled her pistol.

"Don't shoot!" Mordin cried, diving between Shepard and the vorcha, hands up as if begging her to spare a child or something. "Need intact brain tissue. Will administer injection." He hurried over. "As for mixed indoctrination signals: could be." He took a knee next to the vorcha, his omnitool flaring to life. He swept it over the doomed soldier. "Yes. Yes! Makes sense. Glowing reaper orbs seen on Feros and other places humans turned into husks: referred to as machine cultists. Positioning of black orbs suggests defense against reaper signal."

He glanced up at her, a half-shrug tugging one shoulder up. "Krogan most powerful ground force. reapers converting other races. Leviathan invested in making sure reapers do not gain control. Result: krogan destroyed."

"Then we need to up the timetable on getting scanners and improved defenses. Did you get readings from the orbs before we blew them?"

"Yes. Should help develop scanners and defensive eyewear. Will get to work upon return to ship and krogan casualties stabilized."

Tuning the scientist out for the moment, Shepard turned to her team. "Spread out in pairs. Anyone who isn't dead, put them down: it'll be a mercy. Take another indoctrination shot even though we blew those other orbs to hell. Who knows what's still here." When they answered to the affirmative and headed out to follow through on her orders, she turned back to Mordin.

"Despite differences in signals, black orbs counteracting white suggests use of similar delivery method. Defenses developed based on Mr. Weaver's immunity should function for both." He gave the vorcha an injection, ceasing the poor fellow's struggles, then moved on to a krogan quite literally spattered against the wall. He did his cluck of disapproval. "Need subjects not suffering traumatic brain injury. Most likely tried to beat madness out."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah." She clenched her teeth. Grisly as the scene was, they needed all the information they could get on indoctrination. "If you want to take samples, whatever … do it. Get the others to do your heavy lifting. Put everything on shuttle two. I'll have Tali bring it down to the top of the stairs … get it as close as possible."

Cringing, she watched the scientist lift a large section of bashed in crest and skull. Like a hand pushing her from behind, the spiders cajoled her to get closer—not through words or even actions, just a tickle, an itch that demanded to be scratched. Despite denying the spiders their wishes, an invisible thread pulled her closer until she could see diseased brain tissue under that skull. The damage lacked subtlety: large areas boasted tissue that looked not just dead, but decayed.

No! I'm not your puppet. Back the fuck off!

She threw herself around, placing her back to the body, and dove into her belt pouch for a syringe. She'd allowed the tar-slick presence to betray their stake in the scene. Time to move on and get her people to safety.

Is there such a thing any more? Orbs here? Both reaper and suzerain? They're both moving in on all the species. Time is running out, and what do we know? What defenses do we have?

After giving herself the shot, she turned back to Mordin. "I'll head down to evac Wrex and the others before they're tearing each other apart or bashing their own heads in." She swallowed a retch of nauseated disgust and terror. Maybe one day she'd stop being surprised by the horror the reapers and suzerain left in their wake. Maybe, but definitely not that day, not with so much blood and brain matter washing around her feet.

How do we fight them when there is no atrocity too big, no horror that will turn their stomach or back them down? Are we prepared to go that far?

Not a question for right then. She needed to get her people out. Yes, get her people out and keep her eyes on Garrus. She understood him being freaked: the last time the black orbs had neutralized him, and he'd awoken two weeks later, having been vivisected and tortured. Gaze sweeping the room, she tried to find him in the carnage. Where the hell was he, anyway?

It took her a second of searching to find her husband. He crouched twenty metres or so away, staring down at a dead krogan. She hurried over. "Garrus?" she called, her hand hovering a few centimetres from his shoulder. Touching him seemed an excellent way to end up with his rifle butt in her teeth. "Come with me to evac Wrex and the females? He's going to need familiar faces if the orbs are doing a number on him like we think. Hopefully he and Grunt are still coherent."

He nodded, but his stare never left the krogan. "This is Weyrloc Guld, their chief." He pointed to a variety of marks in the krogan's shell, particularly his head casing. "Five or six different weapons. His people beat him to death. Why are they doing this?"

Not needing him to explain who 'they' were, Shepard helped Garrus up and turned him to face her. "I don't know, but we'll figure it out. Any information is good information, right?"

He didn't resist her pull, but neither did he look up and meet her eyes. He seemed to have withdrawn, burrowed down inside himself to hide from the signal. She pressed her palm against his cheek, lifting his face to meet hers.

"Callor, love, are you still hearing the sound?" She patted his cheek when he didn't answer. "Come on, big guy, help me out here. Talk to me."

He didn't answer, but did go into his belt pouch for a shot of the serum. A few seconds after he took it, the clouds cleared from his eyes. Either shaking himself or shuddering, he chuffed. "We need to get out of here, now, Kahri."

Not caring about what anyone thought, Shepard grabbed his hand and led him across the room. Turning, she searched for Martin, spotting the kid as he emerged from a door at the end of the space. She hollered, "Hey, kid! Find Vincent and meet us down in the lab to help with evac." She didn't wait for an answer, but the next second, she heard the heavy tread of his frame armour running up behind them.

The lab door stood at the bottom of the stairs, the control red. She could override it, but she'd rather Wrex opened it up voluntarily. If the indoctrination signal had sent him over the edge, he might just open fire. She motioned for the others to spread themselves out and take cover before pounding her fist against the door. "Urdnot Wrex! It's Shepard. Are you alive in there, you ornery old bastard?"

She backed up, movement approaching the other side of the door. The deeper they descended into that place, the more it felt like a trap, or some giant maw waiting to eat them whole. She jumped a little when something heavy thumped against the metal. "Shepard? Is that you?"

"Yes. Open up. We need to get you and the females evaced from this nightmare." Letting out a bitter chuckle at her jumpiness, she took a step forward.

"Four hours, Shepard!" The door mechanism spun, then the metal slid back. Wrex stood in the space, huge and suddenly, really quite terrifying.

Unable to allow him to get the upper hand, Shepard pressed into the clan chief, backing him up a step. Thank the dear and fluffy Father of Light that he still respected her enough to back down. "We just took out over a thousand Weyrloc and Blood Pack, Wrex, show a little gratitude." She stabbed her chin toward the inside of the lab. "Let's get these people out of here. We found reaper and leviathan indoctrination orbs just up the stairs. They drove the Weyrloc crazy enough that they bashed their brains in against walls."

Movement at the far end of the long space drew four sets of crosshairs. A trembling salarian stepped out from behind a half wall, his hands held up away from his body. "I … I'm unarmed," he said, his voice so high that he could have been auditioning for a part as a talking chipmunk.

"Are you Maelon?" Shepard's brow furrowed.

Before the salarian could stutter out an answer, Wrex stepped around her. "Shepard!" the krogan's voice boomed through the lab. "Evac now, introductions later."

She held up a hand to stop the rest of his rant. "Gentlemen," she said, looking to her team, "get everyone to the shuttle." Movement drew her attention to the other side of the door, glad to see Mordin lurking in cover. "You done collecting samples?" When he nodded, she waved him in. "Come on in then, and tend to your patients, Doc. The shouting at one another portion is over, let's move."

Garrus skirted around them. "I'll get the females aboard shuttle one, Shepard."

Wrex bristled, his glare sizzling past Shepard to latch onto Mordin. "What the hell is that salarian doing here, Shepard?"

Shepard stepped in front of the clan chief as he stormed back to the door, looming over Mordin, his expression promising violence. "He here to destroy this other pyjak's work on the cure?"

Shepard threw out a hand, shoving Wrex back. Her hand let out a howl of complaint as it impacted his armour. "No. He's here because your captive was one of his science team, Wrex. He came to get his person, just as you came to get yours."

Wrex stopped, his eyes narrowing, and Shepard saw instinct step back to make room for intellect. The violence in his posture slowly dripped away, winter giving way to spiring. His stare pinned Shepard before darting past her to Mordin. "Are the salarians experimenting on our females?"

Shepard shook her head. "Don't jump to conclusions, Wrex. We'll sort it out once the females are being treated and we're well away from here. It appears as though the reapers kept Saren's cure and gave it to Weyrloc." She nodded to where Garrus and Mordin organized stretchers and stretcher bearers. "It's still the reapers trying to turn the krogan into their cannon fodder, so let's just move."

She led the way to the beds that Wrex and Grunt had shoved into a storeroom. The small space echoed with its dying occupants groans. Judging by the sores and ligature marks, the females suffered from a level of pain that Shepard didn't want to imagine. Well beyond the end of the Shepard Scale. Behind her, an argument sparked.

"Females' condition critical," Mordin insisted. "Need to move them to a state of the art medical facility. Tuchanka not safe for many reasons."

"There's no way I'm letting a salarian take these females off Tuchanka and torture them with more experiments," Wrex shouted back, setting the salarian back a couple of paces.

"Gentlemen, please." Shepard let out a long, weary sigh as she turned to face them. "It's been a long enough day without this bullshit." She flipped a careless, dismissive hand toward Mordin. "Gather up anything you think might help, then we'll burn the place down before we go."

Wrex stomped up to her, pushing all the way into her space. "What do you think you're doing, Shepard? That research is the only hope for my people."

Her arms hanging relaxed at her sides, Shepard tilted her head to look up at the krogan. "Back the fuck up, Wrex, before I lay you out and sit on your head while you listen to me." Keeping her breathing slow, she met his glare until he backed up a couple of steps. Good, she was too tired to wrestle a krogan. "I had EDI upload everything before she destroyed their computers. We've been working on a cure for two years. That work will continue."

"I don't trust that salarian, Shepard," Wrex groused, fury radiating from him like Aralakh's rays bouncing off the wastelands, "and you have no right to take that research. It belongs to the krogan."

Looking up at the clan leader from under lowered brows, Shepard turned to face him. A vicious, ravenous ache began to gnaw through her guts and down her limbs, making her hands shake. Damn, her pain meds were wearing off. Clenching her fists, she shoved the need as far away as possible and focused on the problem. "I'm not going to argue with you over who owns the data, Wrex, because it doesn't fucking matter." Slicing the air between them, she cut off his protest before he got done opening his mouth. "Sit down."

The krogan let out a small roar that amounted to both asking and demanding why. When she cocked an eyebrow at him, he bristled, his chest puffing out, hands clenched and slightly raised. For a moment, she thought he might charge and trample her to death. Not acceptable.

"Wrex, sit the fuck down." She bristled to match him, fury burning like molten steel up her spine and pouring into her head. Of all the people in the damned galaxy who should trust her … after everything she'd done for the krogan … how dare he? When she spoke, her voice rose out of her chest, grinding like glass shards under a boot heel. "You might not have any reason to trust Mordin, but you sure as fuck have reason to trust me." One eyebrow lifted toward her hairline. "Or is your memory so short and your heart so ungrateful and selfish that you've forgotten?"

Stepping into him, she forced him back toward the nearest crate. "I'm not going to play around with your people's chance at becoming a respected member of the galactic community. I'm not going to juggle the welfare of all those females and pups out there. Hell, I'll put a bullet in your head before I let you risk these females right here." She let out a heavy, quick sigh. "But, I'm really tired, and I hurt everywhere, so just sit down and listen to me."

After glaring at her for a couple more seconds, Wrex turned and walked over, sitting on the side of the crate. Shepard sat on one just beside it, straddling the corner so she could face him. Thank the sweet baby Jesus. Despite meaning every word, she really didn't want to kill Wrex. Finding someone even half as reasonable would have proven a challenge. Besides, she sort of loved the old idiot.

"Better." She braced the heels of her hands against her thighs, hunching over as much as her armour allowed. "I'm going to lay everything out, because I trust that you're smart enough to see my reasoning. Your people were evolving past the genophage. Birth rates were going up, and the council freaked out. They went to the STG and said, fix this. Mordin and Maelon were both members of the team who did just that."

Wrex started to rise. Throwing herself back, Shepard brought up both feet, kicking him in the gut hard enough to sit him back down. He roared and tried to get up again, only to end up on his ass once more. "Shepard! How do you expect me to trust him with these females and the research after that?" Before he even made it all the way up that time, she kicked him back down.

"I can do this as long as necessary, Wrex." She raised her eyebrows, the expression light compared to the low threat in her voice. "Sit down and listen instead of reacting. I know it'll be hard considering the amount of shrinking your brain has done and the indoctrination crazy, but do it."

If glowers could kill, Wrex's would have incinerated Shepard on the spot. Still, he stopped trying to get up.

"Thank you." She leaned forward, forearms resting across her thighs. "I don't expect you to trust Mordin." Earnest exhaustion met his surprise. "I expect you to trust me. Everyone standing behind me … everyone working on projects for me … leave trusting them to me. Your only job is to trust me, Garrus, and Nihlus. Easy enough, right?" She sighed. Too much talking for such a crazy, fucked up place. "Right? You know, considering the trust we've shown in you."

When he didn't reply, she continued, "Mordin and his team have been working with the data we found on Virmire. This data may be exactly what he needs to find the cure." Her stare softened as she held his gaze. "And you know as well as I do that there is nothing on Tuchanka to help these females. We'll take them aboard the Ypres and then get them state of the art care back at Archangel." A small shrug drew her shoulders toward her ears then dropped them.

Anger drew back, replaced by weariness and a pinch of hope. Shepard looked into those huge, red eyes and let out a long sigh, releasing the last of her frustration. "We have a real shot of curing the genophage here, Wrex, but in order to stop the council from pulling crap like that bomb that nearly wiped out your clan, the krogan need a smart, reasonable, and diplomatic leader. You need to be the face of the new krogan society." Straightening, she stretched out her back before shifting to lean on the other hip. "And you know I'm not talking about changing who and what the krogan are."

Movement at the door drew Shepard's attention. A grateful smile greeted the silver blue of Garrus's armour as he stepped over the threshold. After looking around for a moment, he spotted her.

"We ready to move the females?" he asked, sounding as tired as she felt. "We've got them moved to antigrav stretchers, and the shuttles are parked just outside the back door."

Shepard looked to Wrex. "Well? Are we ready to move them?"

"You're a pain in my ass, Shepard," the clan chief groused, shoving himself up onto his feet. He waved to Garrus. "Let's get them out of here."

Leaving the others to get the females aboard, Shepard stopped, catching sight of Maelon standing in front of a huge vid screen. The display showed only static, EDI having already wiped the computers, but still, the salarian stood there, hands raised and twitching, his expression lost.

"Maelon?" Shepard called, making enough noise on her approach to avoid startling him. "The females are ready to go. How about you?"

"Weyrloc didn't force me to come here," he said. As she stepped around him, her side against the vid screen, she saw that his hand movements were those of someone tapping on an interface. "Voices told me to come, to fix the mistake we made." He reached up, sliding his hand across the screen. "Urdnot Wrex unwilling to do what needed to be done! No will to go far enough … push hard enough."

The salarian's voice rose both in pitch and volume with every word until Shepard's hand lifted to rest on her pistol grip. "Sacrifices must be made! Boundaries pushed. Can never make up for what we did. Can never bring back dead pups and mothers. Can never be forgiven. Taught to be a monster!" He spun to face her, lunging forward. "Can I help it if I became a monster? Who was I to argue with the great Dr. Solus?"

Latching onto Shepard's armour, he dragged her closer and shook her, his face pressed against hers. "We destroyed the krogan. It doesn't matter if I have to kill a million to save the rest, I will save them!" Maelon opened his mouth, insanity-propelled spittle smacking against her skin. "You can't understand! The voices! They never—" Thunder roared through the lab and a heavy wave of blood and bones and brain splashed across her face. A blur of incoming movement spun her around, her pistol lifting as she blinked away the gore, struggling to aim at their attacker.

"Kahri!" Garrus's armour registered as he raced up to her, leaping over the salarian's body. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling and pushing as he checked for wounds. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, love, I'm fine." She eased him back. "Maelon was just shouting. He didn't hurt me." When she pushed him far enough away that he released her, she reached behind her head to untie her kerchief. "Just covered in a hell of a lot of ick." She mopped at the blood cooling and congealing on her face. When she cleared enough away to see him clearly, his pupils had constricted to pinpricks despite the dim light. His mandibles twitched against his face, high and tight.

Damn it, the bastards still have orbs. You've got to get him out of here.

"Garrus?" Reaching up with both hands, she took his face between her palms, his hide chill even through her gloves. Releasing him, she freed her hands, something telling her she needed skin on skin to pull him back. "Garrus, love, just look at me." Gripping his face again, she winced at the sweat rolling down his neck despite his chill. "Look into my eyes. We're all right. Come on, let's get onto the shuttle."

"My silhouette," he whispered, "white on the red wall." His eyes stared past her, the blank terror in that almost flawless field of ice freezing the blood in her veins.

"Garrus, love, come on." She gripped both of his hands and began leading him toward the door. "Let's get you aboard the shuttle."

When she stepped away from the screen, he froze, that terrible, blank stare darting to the wall and freezing there. Turning to follow his stare, she winced at the grisly portrait painted on the concrete: a negative shadow of her outline painted in blood.

A roar of pure agony tore from Garrus's throat. "No!" He ripped his hands from hers, tripping over Maelon's body as he reeled away from her. "No! She came back!" Bare of subvocals, his voice rose to a shrill keen. "My kahri came back." Spinning, he ran straight into one of the medical tables, another keen greeting the dead body laid out on the surface.

"I can't still be there." Hand over hand, he groped his way around the table, and bolted for the door. "I'm not in the dark. I won't go back into that dark."

"Garrus!" Adrenaline lightning shot through her, launching her across the lab and over the threshold. "Garrus! Stop! I'm okay." Taking the stairs three at a time, she raced up toward the second shuttle and the heavily pounding sun. Somewhere behind her, she heard Mordin find his assistant's body. No time to worry about him.

"Shepard?" Martin called in her ear. "What's going on?"

Slowing ever so slightly to check in the room with the destroyed orbs, Shepard hit her radio. "Garrus took off. You're faster than I am. Get over here." She closed the channel mid-stride, and hit the long slope of rubble, dropping to all fours to scramble up the loose footing.

She heard Martin ten seconds before he stopped next to her. "Grab hold, I can jump this."

Shepard did as he said, thanking the blessed Enkindlers for the kid's frame armour as he covered the debris field in a series of four metre leaps. "Put me down," she said once the floor cleared. "Run ahead and check the main path, I'll sweep the side rooms and follow. If he's running blind, there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to catch him."

Ten minutes later, Shepard raced through the hospital's front door, squinting against the sun to see shuttle two cut across the landscape, a scant four or five metres in the air. Pausing to gasp, pulling in long, quick draughts of dust and heat, she lifted her hand to her ear. "Do you see him, Tali?"

"Affirmative, Shepard. He's about a hundred metres ahead of you. Sending heading and scan now."

Shepard hit her omnitool controls, opening a topographical map with a single, blinking green dot on it. "He's stopped. Is he okay?" Another green dot appeared, streaking toward Garrus; thank the blessed Enkindlers for Martin.

"I see him, Shepard," the kid said, panting between words. "Holy crap, he's fast." Judging by the change in his voice and breathing, she imagined him bent double, hands on his knees. After maybe fifteen seconds, the sound of his frame armour crashing across the Tuchankan wasteland resumed, in hot pursuit once more.

"Shepard! Where are you?" Wrex called, his voice sounding more grounded for having left the surface.

Shepard let out a sharp breath, stumbling over a piece of rebar sticking out of the concrete. Catching herself on a half wall, she shoved herself up, scarcely missing a step. "Chasing Garrus halfway across your planet, Wrex." Gasp. Damn, she needed to do more running. "What do you need?" She vaulted up onto a large slab and checked her scan. Freakin' damned Enkindlers, she'd never catch Crazy Legs Vakarian, she just didn't have the stride for it.

"Bakara's getting worse," Wrex said, some of the strain bleeding through.

"Confirmed, Shepard," Mordin spoke up in the background. "All females' becoming unstable and critical."

Pushing on, Shepard swallowed all her misgivings. "Take them to the Ypres, Mordin. Get started on stabilizing them. Tell Karin to grab Kaidan and anyone else you need."

Once the shuttle signed off, Shepard paused to signal her ship. "When you get the others on board, bring the shuttle back down. Hopefully we'll be ready for evac."

Fifteen more, impossibly scorching minutes passed, Tuchanka's air burning in her chest a little more painful with every breath. She had maybe ten more—

"Shepard!" Martin's voice tipped close enough to panic to stop Shepard's heart dead in her chest. Oddly enough, the stopped heart spurred her legs to faster speeds. After a couple of wheezing breaths, he continued, "I caught up with him in the basement of a ruined building, but he won't let me get anywhere near him. He keeps raving about not going back into the dark to the cutters."

"Keep the exit blocked if you can, and just let him pace," she said, wheezing between the words. "If he tries to run, take him down as gently as you can."

At least Garrus seemed to have run himself out for the moment. If she could get to him before he caught his second wind, she should be able to reach through the indoctrination long enough to get him on a shuttle. Fury simmered in her gut, adding fuel to aid her tired limbs. As if the monstrosities and the killing and turning the races into monsters wasn't bad enough. As if the reapers and suzerain didn't spread enough horror without turning people's minds against them.

And Garrus? Yeah, they could play with her all they wanted with their stupid tar spiders and 'assuming control' bullshit, but coming at her torins … torturing them …. No, they'd all burn. Souls, no souls, they didn't deserve the effort it would take to discover the answers they needed.

Death. Death was what they deserved.

"Shepard!" Martin's voice called up out of a dark hole. "Down here."

"How's he doing?" she asked, picking her way down into what looked like it had been some sort of vehicle structure.

"He just sat down." Pain bled through Martin's words. "He's talking about having broken Roger, so he's back on Haestrom." A hissing sigh crackled over the comms. "You'd better wash your face before you try to talk to him."

"Stinks." Garrus's voice echoed up to her. "Fuel and blood."

"Yeah, right," she replied to Martin's suggestion. Cursing herself for not thinking of it, she pulled out a bottle of water and a gauze pad, scrubbing even as she continued down into the darkness. She heard her husband without the comms a moment later, his mutters low. "Garrus?" The steps and muttering paused for a scant fraction of a second before resuming.

"Stop it!" he called out, his voice a sharp, strangled bark. "Panic will kill you. Remember. How did you get here?"

"Callor?" Shepard called, changing tack. Maybe the nickname would break through where the other didn't. What had he told her about Haestrom? She vaguely recalled dreaming about leading him through corridors of endless, grey slabs. "Follow my voice. Can you hear me?"

Instead of answering, he said, "I've got to think. I don't have a hope in buratrum of smelling the others over the sickly, acrid stink of this slime. Radio and omnitool dead, armour has gone dark. Focus, Vakarian. I can get out of this. I just have to find the others." He chuckled, wry and bitter: a sound that tore at her guts. "Pari always said I was too stubborn for my own good."

Martin appeared suddenly ahead of Shepard, wraithlike in the gloom. She stepped up next to the kid, just able to see Garrus sitting on the floor a handful of metres away. "How's my blood level?" she asked.

The kid held his hands out for the gauze and water bottle. "Where did you learn to wash your face?" he asked, his attempt at humour dying mid-flight.

"I was born in a barn according to my mother, so ... ." she replied, pressing her lips together in a thin line. "Contact Tali, keep me apprised of their ETA back down here. When they arrive, I want you to have a sedative ready, and she needs to park as close to the structure as she can and keep the cargo area lights low. I don't want him to bolt."

Martin nodded, his implants glowing gently. "And if he does, grab him and sedate him?" He swiped at her face, scrubbing here and there.

"Yeah. Either way, sedate him as soon as I get him on the shuttle." She let out a long sigh and rolled her shoulders when the kid gave her the nod. Damn, she hated tricking Garrus, but they needed to get him into treatment before she ended up losing him for good.

Garrus pushed himself up off the floor, looking so pained that his movements stabbed sympathetic slivers of pain through her heart and stomach. "I'm going to need you," he whispered. "Do me a favour, and stick with me for a bit."

Shepard strode forward, something … some warm tug deep down in her gut telling her that he'd just given her an opening to reach him. "I'm here, Callor." She stepped close enough to make out his face clearly. "How do we always end up in these situations? I swear you do it on purpose."

He chuffed, a sound that registered more doubt than anger or fear. "You're dead." His mandibles fluttered and dropped. "That was a stupid thing to say."

"I came back to help you get out of here." She stopped and held out her hand, holding her breath as she waited for him to come to her. Tipping her head toward the ramp, inviting and light, she smiled. "Come on, let's get moving. I don't like it here."

After hesitating long enough to spike her adrenaline—her blood pressure soaring until the deafening pulse hammered in her temples—he took a step forward. "Why did you leave me, Shepard? You knew … you know that I need you."

She struggled to remember what she'd said … something about …. "It was time."

Talons stretching out to the extent of his reach, Garrus's gloves slid up her fingers before closing his grip. "Why are you here now?" He stepped forward, drawing her fingers up to his mouth. Breathing her in deeply, he nuzzled the back of her hand. "It's you."

"Shepard," Martin's voice spoke softly in her ear, "Tali's in place. Whenever you're ready."

Smiling, she nodded in answer to both Garrus and Martin. She reached up, fingertips whispering along his mandible and cheek. "It is. Come on. We need to get you out of here." When she sidestepped toward the ramp, he followed, offering no resistance. She let out her breath, a warm wave of relief washing over her, another of exhaustion chasing hot on its heels.

Despite hesitating a little as they passed Martin, Garrus offered no fight, his talons clinging to her fingers like a lifeline as they climbed up toward the shuttle. Finally, the universe giving them a break, her plan moved smoothly, and she sat in the corner of the shuttle, her husband lying across the rest of the seats, sleeping with his head in her lap.

Martin flopped down across from her, letting out a loud raspberry of a sigh. "This entire day has sucked most egregiously—"

"Egregiously?" Shepard teased, a tired, slaphappy sort of laugh greeting his vocabulary.

"Yes, egregiously. All I want to do is take a shower and fall into bed." He sprawled, his back pressed into the corner. "How's he doing?"

Shepard caressed the long sweep of muscle from Garrus's crest to the neck of his armour. "He'll be okay. He's tough as nails." Still, her beautiful torin continued to twitch in his sleep, fighting against monsters he should never have had to think about again. "If Mordin and his team don't find a filter to prevent this, I'll space one of them a day until they do." She growled under her breath. "This is the last time those bastard reapers and leviathan get to do this to us. The very last fucking time."

Happy N7 Day! All the love.