A/N: (Finally) releasing this to the big scary wide world web. Sorry about being so slow; I managed to convince myself that this was a great, big blubbery mess and it subsequently sat on my hard-drive, 2/3 complete and untouched for a short(?) period of time. It also probably would have been released 3 days a go if Halo (and no, it's not Reach) hadn't been distracting me. Ahh well.

Feedback on this would be greatly appreciated since I'm not yet 100% in which direction this story is ultimately going to go (so if you're not into what happens down there, say it NOW rather than bitching about it 3 chapters down the line ^^) Also, help with improving grammar/punctuation/styling etc etc etc. is good SO LONG AS IT'S CONSTRUCTIVE. Okey dokey, enough gushing ^^

She could remember it all; the heart-stopping emptiness which overwhelmed her as he was flung across the room, the voice which wasn't her own screaming his name, the need for the world to stop just so that she could beg him not to leave her life again. It didn't. Instead she had to grab the grenade launcher off of her back and give hell to the bastards responsible for this. After that time had stopped; words seeped through her worry-wracked brain, each one losing more and more meaning with each passing second...

"...the docs corrected it with surgical procedures and some cybernetics; best we can tell he'll have full functionality, but-".

"Shepard."

Against all odds, he had stood there in that doorway; his suit had seen better days - as had his face - but he was alive. That was all that mattered to her. They were both in the same position; forgotten heroes with no home to go to, both owing their lives to a terrorist organization which they had hated all but 2 years ago. Part of her had expected him to disappear, leaving behind only harsh words and the bloodstains on her armour. She couldn't say she'd blame him if he did. He hadn't: he'd chosen following her to hell over trying to find some semblance of normality. She hugged her pillow, smiling to herself. She'd missed him, Archangel had scared her; his eyes were blank, only ever lighting up when one more mercenary fell to the ground. Thinking back, he hadn't even seemed overtly fazed that she was supposed to be dead; and, for a split-second, she was worried the main in the doorway would be Archangel and not Garrus...

"Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad is it?"

"Hell Garrus, you were always ugly, slap some face paint on there and no-one will even notice."

"Some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are Krogan."

Relief had flooded through her: Garrus was unmistakably so much more of a hard-ass, but the endearing Turian she knew and loved was still in there. She had learnt later that, as well as exhaustion from being hounded for several days, betrayal and guilt had sapped him physically and emotionally. Lantar Sidonis: What kind of person was he? Was he in it for himself from the get go? If not, how did he let himself be persuaded to doing something so terrible? Did he feel any remorse whatsoever for his actions? If so, if he had seen the worn-down look on Garrus' face back on Omega, would that have been enough to make him repent? She didn't know if she cared; that bastard had sold Garrus out and ran, leaving him on Omega to die. Whatever his reasons and no matter how many times he apologized he was a coward of the lowest calibre. Garrus could have easily left Omega when his team was murdered but he hadn't: It was a man resigned to death which she had just encountered.

"I got three separate merc bands to work together to take me down. My manager at C-Sec would be impressed."

Screw his manager; she was damn well impressed - albeit surprised how easily he slid into the role of leader-master tactician and flourished: Who would have thought Garrus, always so eager to follow his Commanders' example, had it in him? He was right though: Had C-Sec given him the opportunity sans-red tape, he could have made a real difference to crime on the Citadel. She smiled at the memory of how his eyes had become animated and his voice excited as he described the work of his vigilante team on Omega...

"It was simple. We'd hit their shipments, disrupt activities. Get under their skin. Make them angry. They'd come charging right into our well-prepared kill zone. Cross-fire and snipers, clean and surgical. They never stood a chance."

...

"You prove that you get things done, and people join up. Mercs who wanted to atone. Security consultants tired of playing of playing by the rules. I gave them hope."

Garrus dropped his head.

"And now they're dead. Shows what I know."

He blamed himself for what happened, and that blame had extinguished the fire – the hope and idealistic notions - from his eyes. She impulsively wanted to hug Garrus, tell him that everything was going to be fine, make it right somehow. She couldn't, she wouldn't.

She shouldn't.

Seeing him today had only confirmed the creeping suspicion in her mind; something which had been true in her heart, beating or not, for almost three years...

Besides, he's a Turian and you're a human. It not like it would ever work.

It wasn't right; what did she care if he was Human, Turian or even a goddamn Hanar? Did it make every look, every sentence; she had given him on the original Normandy a lie? She spent months trying to ignore the advances and then the hurt puppy-dog looks which Kaiden had given her. She'd stood in the elevator time and time again with grim determination to set things right, to set them straight? She'd cowered away at the last second, teetering herself off to the left towards Wrex as she first caught sight of him across the room. It's not like it was any use anyway; scar or not, he was handsome (by Turian standards at least), from a good family and had an impressive military background...

So what use could he possibly have in a human?

She rolled over onto her front and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

I guess some things are just better left unsaid.

Had everything not have been stamped with the Cerberus insignia – from the uniform of the all human crew to his computer – Garrus could have easily convinced himself he'd died on Omega and gone to heaven.

That and the singeing pain which erupted on his face every time he moved his right mandible or 5 minutes passed; whichever came first. He eyed his reflection off of the surface of his console. Next time he got into a fight with a gunship, he was going to damn well make sure he hid: He was already at enough of a disadvantage with half his face missing, let alone all of it. Not that he cared too much how he looked. It was the cybernetics; the no longer being 100% organic, but some weird cybernetic Cerberus Turian which was really bothered him...

...although he wouldn't be back doing the best damn job which he'd ever landed without them either.

He thought back to his childhood on Palaven; his father was rarely there –busy with C-Sec matters, it was always about the C-Sec matters – but occasionally he'd take his son, daughter and wife on holiday. Luscious new planets: always brimming with sun, sea and things for him and Solana to explore together. He remembered the feeling of sitting on a beach somewhere, soaking up rays and imagining the world which he had left behind; a grey monotonous world of drudgery, a world he had been totally submersed in merely a matter of hours ago. That feeling had returned: This time yesterday he'd lived in a world where everything he, Shepard and the original SR1 crew had accounted to nothing. Shepard had saved the council and yet her name was still in the mud, he – no, not just him; him and every other being, human or otherwise, who had been on the Normandy when it exploded – had tried in vain to get the council to try to recover her body.

"Absolutely not! A waste of resources!"

Alenko. He had balked first. Garrus' fists clenched subconsciously. Won over by the carrot of a promotion in the military. Well Commander Alenko could choke on the title she used to wear, a title which he didn't deserve. It was all in vain anyway; more of the crew began join Kaiden, distancing themselves from the Citadel and getting on with their own lives. Various crew members, Wrex, Chakwas, Tali: Only he and Joker had remained until the bitter end. He for his upstanding sense of justice; Joker for the survivor's guilt he'd held onto ever since his pod landed on that cold, distant planet and been forced to shake his head forlornly to an army of hopeful expressions. The Council had already been doing as much as they could to sweep the whole business of the Reapers under the rug; cover up stories, placing the Normandy only on low priority missions against Geth of all things: Why had he acted so surprised when they refused to do the honourable thing? If anything, her death worked in their favour: She wouldn't cause a fuss when they used the Geth as a scapegoat, they could use her name however they wanted in recruitment vids without repercussions and, most irritatingly of all, they could go right on with being themselves. Nothing ever changes.

"Frankly I'm more worried about you. Cerberus Shepard? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?"

Not that he was overtly thrilled with the idea of working with Cerberus; it wasn't like they were any better.

"That's why I'm glad you're here Garrus. If I'm walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side."

Damn it. It seemed she still always knew what to say to get around him.

It had only taken a split second faltering glance towards her for it all to be over; in that split second, severe burning had lapsed into stinging coldness and then into darkness.

...!

Through the haze which enveloped him, he could hear an angel's voice calling out to him...

"We're getting you out of this Garrus, just hold on..."

No, that wasn't possible. For a start, he wasn't some human fetishist. Secondly, he was pretty sure that she isn't some Turian fetishist either. Thirdly, she was the great Commander Shepard: A woman who could have anybody she desired. What the hell could she possibly see in some failed deadbeat C-Sec Officer who thought he could be a hero for the day?

Especially one who couldn't keep his team alive.

He thought that by throwing everything away he could make a difference in the Galaxy. He'd tried so hard to replace the good which had left the world the day Shepard died: Firstly by applying to become a Spectre, secondly by buying a one way ticket to Omega. But he'd screwed up. Badly. He should have known that not even death could stop her; just as he should have known that Sidonis was up to something. He'd tried to live up to her example and all he had achieved by doing so was the deaths of 10 good men. Some hero.

So, what could she ever possibly ever want in you?

He pushed the ridiculous notion to the back of his head – where it was swiftly forgotten – and got back to his calibrations.

I guess some things are just better left unsaid.